While I write LOTS of fiction, with a severe stress on the word FICTION, there are elements of real life that I often include in my stories as a way of keeping them grounded and relatable, at least, to me.
In reality, I work and live on the border between the (Mostly) English speaking province of Ontario, and the French speaking province of Quebec. While I do believe I have a fairly comprehensive understanding of English, my skill level in Français Québécois is best summed up as almost nonexistent. I can order a coffee, and ask for the washroom, and I can READ Québécois HVAC instructions, but it takes me a long time, and often is assisted with the aid of a dictionary.
So, naturally, language plays a part in my works. Characters often face language barriers (which relates to me,) or are multi-lingual (Which is something that I am honestly jealous about.)
There is also a culture shock when working between the two provinces. I was raised in English Ontario, I know what to expect, what is offensive to say, where to keep my mouth shut, and where I can cuss like a Navy Marine Mechanic without expecting an ass-whooping…
That wasn’t always the case when I started working in Quebec.
The first company I worked for in Building Automation was Quebec based, and one of the first jobs I did SOLO, was to verify several ventilation units inside a Quebec public school.
I was up on a ladder, cordoned off from a group of kindergarten students. My head was in the ceiling as I tried to figure out why a pressure sensor wasn’t reading properly, when I heard a student cry out, “Madame, Madame, mon jouet ç’est Fucké!”
<Teacher, Teacher, My Toy is F*CKED!”
I froze, uncertain what I had heard, and peaked out from the ceiling.
The teacher knelt on the carpet, held out her hands to the little child, and I expected to hear the equivalent of “We don’t use that word in the classroom.”
Instead, the professeure asked “Comment est- çe que tu Fucké ton jouet?”
What a wake-up call.
I nearly died laughing, because I almost fell off the ladder. Despite literally being separated from an English culture by a river, passable by ferry and bridge, the Québécois culture didn’t, and still does not, consider English swear words as, well, swear words.
No, you want to swear in French, than you are going to have to use terms regarding Catholic faith. Bodily functions swear words, in English, just do not mean the same in Quebec.
So, that’s why lots of my stories feature culture and language barriers, because it reflects my personal experiences with such situations, and by including it, my stories feel REAL to me, and I hope, real to many readers as well.