Preface Note: This page will not contain any information about things such as morphosyntactic alignment, phonology, or anything of a potentially typological nature (or at least very little). These topics will be presented in their own sections. This page will discuss the history of Duojjin, the history of myself within the context of linguistics and conlanging, the story of how the project came about, some of the motivations behind it, some of the ways in which the project has changed direction, and subjective anecdotes about the experience as a whole. While this page will feature some technical terminology (which I will try to elaborate in laymen’s terms as well, although these may be somewhat oversimplified due to the nature of laymen’s terms), it is not intended to introduce you to the language on a technical level, but rather on more of a personal level. I may add to or edit this page as time goes on.
Hello, cherished reader. ❤
My name is Clayton Lafontaine. I am a Canadian who is in my late 20s, and I am fascinated by a great many things. Though perhaps, arguably, uppermost among those things is linguistics. I’ve always been intrigued and excited by languages, ever since I was first exposed to Spanish from the house of a neighbouring Spanish family when I was a toddler. The mother of that family taught me some Spanish for a while, which I recall being very enthusiastic about at the time, up until she and my own mother had a falling out, which brought my study of Spanish to a halt. For the record: my young love of Spanish has zero influence on Duojjin today. I haven’t had an interest in Spanish in like… two decades?
When I was a wee bit older, and started taking French in school—as all of us little Cannucklets must eventually do—I was initially enthralled, but I changed schools about halfway through elementary school (I think they call that “primary school” over in Europe?), which—for reasons I’ll not get into here—slammed a brick wall onto the path that was my development of French. My love of language, with no other means of manifesting itself, was rendered dormant then for many years. I even would go so far as to say that I developed a resentment of French, deep such that I’ve only managed to shed that resentment in recent years. For the record, I now consider French my favourite non-liturgical Romance language, and I plan to revisit it one day.
My youthful obsession with animé—which is today more of a fond appreciation—led me to fall in love with Japanese, and when I reached highschool, I had the opportunity to study it. At least, for a brief while. Halfway through my first semester, I had to change schools again, which I had done several times by this point. Now being on the other side of the country, despite my best efforts, without a classroom environment, Japanese proved too daunting and too unfamiliar a language to study on my own at age 16. With no other means of manifesting itself, my love of languages was rendered dormant once again, as my Japanese studies were sent to see King Yemma (by which I mean killed). For the record, I learned both of the kanas overnight, and I learned about 150-ish kanji characters within that time… most of which I cannot recall with much of any degree of confidence today. Although I still recall the kanas rather decently, and the small amount of core vocabulary I learned is pretty much cemented for life thanks to animé.
A year or two later, I got the bright idea that I might satiate my yearning for learning (of languages) by instead creating one of my own. I’ve always been the artsy type, and I’ve also always been the type to undertake very ambitious projects which are debatably over my head. So it just seemed like the thing to do, y’know? And so, I began work on my very first conlang, and Dwojin was born (spelling inconsistency to be explained below). For those who might not know what a conlang is: I don’t know why you’re here, but you’re certainly welcome all the same. That said, the word “conlang” is short for “constructed language“, and it means a language which is created artificially and deliberately by a single author or a small group (like Klingon or Esperanto), as opposed to a “natlang”, which is short for “natural language“, and means a language that developed naturally (like French or Japanese).
Some time later, I stumbled onto a flash video on Newgrounds (hey, did you know that they’re still around? I know, eh?) called BunnyKill, which featured a slick little ninja bunny with disembodied hands using his super awesome happy ninja bunny powers to disembowel a bunch of other, presumably less happy, ninja bunnies… No actual happiness is exhibited from any party involved. But more importantly, this video featured an industrial metal song in Finnish called Verta Ja Lihaa, by a band called Turmion Kätilöt. I was absolutely captivated. Both by the phonaesthetics (phonetic aesthetics) of the language, and also of the song itself on a musical level. I must’ve watched that video a hundred times because I loved the song so much. Sure, I had heard of Finnish before; I knew Finland existed as a country, but I had no idea that their language was so… eargasmic… for want of a more extant and less arguably inappropriate term. For the record, BunnyKill is a totally awesome series of flash videos, and I highly recommend them. Also, Turmion Kätilöt remains, to this day, my favourite band of all time. Aaaalthough there are a few other close runners who run so close that I sometimes question that status, but whatever. I digress.
Another thing I was, was inspired. Very, very inspired. I wanted desperately to learn this glorious Finnic language of the Finns (and yes, I was later delighted to learn of the parallels with Tolkien in this regard)… but alas… I was unable to find any material for doing so save Wikipedia. But as you may or may not have noticed, Wikipedia articles on linguistics topics are extremely dry, technical, and pedantic. Now, I don’t have a problem with that, per se, but I was too green to use material like that for learning a language. So I gleaned what I could from it. I was introduced to the concept of noun case, though I was very confused about how it actually worked in Finnish in practical application. Ultimately, I was very intimidated, and I felt like I had lost the battle… but not the war.
Rather than giving up hope, I decided to gut my conlang. Sure, I liked the work that I had done on my conlang up until that point, but I loved the feel of Finnish so much that I knew that I had to remodel Dwojin. I had to completely redesign it and overhaul it from the ground up, in the image of Finnish. And thus, Duojjin was born.
I threw out the phoneme inventory (sound set) and completely revamped it. I did not, however, straight up copy Finnish’s phoneme (sound) inventory. Instead, I used Finnish’s phoneme inventory as a starting point, and I removed a sound or two, and I added a sound or two, and I tweaked a sound or two, and I adjusted the alphabet to make it my own. I also kept some of the influences from the old, outthrown alphabet. For example, I kept my letters <å> and <ø>, which in Finnish would be spelled <ai> and <oi> respectively. I also kept some words from the original conlang. Most of the root words, however, were thrown out and redone. The alphabet was also nearly completely unrecognizable from its original form that it had once been. Most of the root words which were kept during this transitionary period have since been either changed or lost entirely.
So Duojjin was certainly inspired by Finnish, but it is not a Finnic, or Finno-Ugric, or Uralic, or whatever language; It is not related to Finnish. It does take some loanwords from Finnish—most of which are gone now—but that doesn’t make it Finnic. And Finnish certainly influenced my grammatical decisions, but it did not define them, and therefore doesn’t make it Finnic either. It is an a priori language isolate.
As far as I can tell, the re-imagining of Duojjin took place some time in late 2007; my oldest .rtf (rich text format) files pertaining to Duojjin (long since unused) that I have today say in their properties that they were last modified in November of 2007. There was one occasion when I had to restore the project from a backup (I regularly back it up), and I’ve changed computer systems a few times. This means that my files for Duojjin on my current computer all say that they were created in 2016, which is when I put them onto this hard drive, but because I haven’t modified these particular files—maintained solely for posterity’s sake—over the generations of systems, the ‘last modified’ dates of these files remain uncorrupted. So yeah, it’s safe to assume that it was 2007. I very much doubt that I had those files for more than an entire year before I stopped using them.
The name of the language had its spelling updated during this time of change to accommodate the new orthography (writing system); the root words which build the compound (multiple words being slammed together) for the name (“duo” and “jjin”) are two roots which were kept and still actually remain to this day (dwo > duo, and jin > jjin, respectively). The word “duo” comes from the fact that I went by the name of “Duo” on the internet for many years (yes… I was obsessed with Gundam Wing when I was younger), and I was still using it at the time when I began work on the language. The word “jjin” simply means “language”, and is derived and repurposed from the Japanese suffix “-jin”, which means “a person of X origin”. For the record: There is a little bit of Japanese influence in Duojjin, but not really very much. I was very careful to not let myself get carried away with ‘Nihongisms’. However, at the time of this writing (Feb/12/’17), I am considering the idea of changing the word “jjin” to mean “tongue”, and then repackaging the word for “language” in the form of a compound consisting of “speech+system” (puhusari), or perhaps “speech+set” (puhugja). At any rate, the name basically means “Duo’s language”. However, fast forward to today, and I haven’t gone by that handle for many years now. Instead, I have been goning by the name of Tor, and as such, one could also call the language “Toljjin”, and they wouldn’t really be wrong (<r> changes to <l> when it is followed by a coronal consonant (consonant made with the roof of the front area of the mouth) like the /ʒ/ of the <jj> digraph (two letters being written together to make one sound). Back to ten years ago, though…
The root morpheme “duo” /dwɔ/ originally didn’t mean anything; I had simply not known what to do with it. I eventually decided that I needed to do something with it, and I wanted to come up with something interesting and unique for it. I eventually decided that it would mean “a person who shares a common genetic, cultural, or language heritage with the speaker.” So then Duojjin would essentially translate as “the language of those who speak my language”. However, this meaning for “duo” literally never came up in practical application when it had this meaning, so I decided that despite how nifty I found it, it was too impractical, too circumstantial, and redundant (not to imply that languages don’t necessarily have highly circumstantial elements), and so I have since repurposed it, and it is now the root for “person”. So now it basically just means “people’s language”, which is a fairly typical name schema for many languages around the world. So I’m satisfied enough with that.
I decided from day one to alter the pronunciation of the root morpheme “duo” to be pronounced as a single syllable with a /w/ sound to make it sound unlike the English word from whence it is ultimately sourced. This pronunciation difference was represented in the orthography with the use of a written <w> at first. But when I was reworking the language during the Great Finnic Craze, I reanalyzed Duojjin’s /w/ phoneme as being an allophone (secondary pronunciation) of the phoneme /u/ when it precedes another vowel which is not another /u/. This allowed the name of the language to keep the /w/ in the pronunciation while simultaneously justifying the act of spelling it with a <u> as per my at-the-time online handle.
Now that I’m actually writing this, I think this was Duojjin’s first established allophone. Of course, at the time, I didn’t actually know what an allophone was, objectively speaking. I had a vague, subjective ‘Sprachgefühl‘ for the concept. Which is probably why, at the same time as introducing this allophone, I simultaneously introduced a contradictory rule that said that every letter would always be pronounced the same way, every time (1:1 phoneme to glyph ratio). At the time, this “orthographic purity” felt like I was “cleaning up” the madness that is written English on a metaphoric/symbolic level—even if only for myself—by creating something more “logical” than English myself. It’s worth noting that, at the time, I regarded diphthongs as being single phones. So, from my then-perspective, my diphthongal monoglyphs were still regarded as 1:1. I know better now, though.
Now… I’m not sure if I necessarily succeeded at creating something “more logical” than English (an argument could be made, I suppose), but I do know that after working on this project for ten years, I now feel like this need for orthographic purity was sort of… naïve, if spirited and well intentioned. Today, while Duojjin’s orthography does remain very simplistic as compared to such behemoth orthographies as English, Irish, Japanese, or Thai, it now exhibits its fair share of allophony, which really provides a whole other layer of ‘personality’ for the language, I think. So if you happen to be a young conlanger who might have a similar attitude to the one I used to have as described above, then while I don’t want to discourage you from following your creative drive—and therefore will not suggest that you shouldn’t do it—my observations after a decade of experience may be something worth pondering on and toying around with a bit. The madness that is esoteric orthographies… is not quite so chaotic as you might think. In fact, I’ve come to see that there’s a certain beauty to be found in all of the hidden reason and history behind them. So, y’know, for whatever that’s worth to you. I’m sure you’ll see it one day too, if you don’t already. In the meantime, though, you go ahead and make that clean, 1:1 orthography that you want to make. It’s really good practice anyway, and you need to walk before you can run, eh? ❤
So anyway, I was conlanging now, but I had been cut off from my language studies of any kind due to life circumstances which would, frankly, be inappropriate to discuss here. But I still felt a need to learn Finnish, and also revisit Japanese if I could somehow manage it… and somewhere along the line, I’d developed a love of German, courtesy of Rammstein in the early-to-mid naughts, and wanted to learn that. And I was heavily intrigued by other languages like Russian, Mandarin, and Korean (and I would come to grow heavily intrigued by many more, as I’ve little doubt I will continue to do)…
But I had no means. I had sampled the then-state-of-the-art language learning software, and disliked it to such an extent that I will not grace it with an extra result on Google by mentioning it here by name (also, I can’t remember its name off-hand right now for some reason anyway, so that’s convenient). This was before the days of Duolingo, you see. Which, while not necessarily catering to my more niched interests until just recently, would certainly have been a most beloved boon to me way back in ’04–’07 (ᴛᴀɴɢᴇɴᴛ: Yes, contracted decade dates take the apostrophe at the beginning of the number (y’know… where the contraction actually occurs), and not at the end! Not even if there’s an <s> after it! Although there can be one after the <s> if it’s a possessive… if you wanted to make it a possessive… for some odd reason unbeknownst… There. I’m sorry, but it needed to be said… <3).
Right. So, back to the plot. I mentioned earlier that I didn’t give up on that, eh? So what did I do? I went back to those dry, technical, and pedantic Wikipedia articles. But I came at it from a different perspective. I decided that instead of trying to learn a language through drechnidantic Wikipedia articles, I would try to learn individual elements of linguistics through drechnidantic Wikipedia articles (that’s “dry, technical, and pedantic,” for those of you who aren’t catching on).
I went onto Wikipedia and I searched up “grammatical case“. Because I had, of course, tried to integrate a case system into Duojjin, as best as I had understood the concept from my initial exposure to the article I had examined previously on Finnish. So at the time, this was one of the central tenants around which Duojjin was based. Frankly, it still is. But at the time, my understanding of the concept was not yet a solid understanding, and as such, had many holes, and many things were mislabeled and/or improperly analyzed. In short, it was very unrefined, and… well… jank (to be perfectly honest, it’s still not completely refined; it’s constantly—if slowly—being tweaked and improved).
So, as I said, I started re-reading the article on grammatical case. However, this time around, instead of trying to absorb the entire article, I only tried to absorb just enough of the article to reach a word—a technical linguistics term—with which I was unfamiliar. These technical terms are usually also links that lead to other Wikipedia articles which explain—typically in no shortage of technical detail—everything that you need to know on a fundamental level about that term, and often more. As you’ve no doubt noticed, I will be attempting to emulate this feature on this website. I will be making links that lead to Wikipedia articles, Youtube videos, and other sources via at least the first iteration of each technical term on each page of this site (and sometimes linked more than once where it just feels like it would be a good idea). All such links used throughout the page will also be collected in one place at the bottom of the page. Every link on this website is set up in such a way so as to open a new tab. No links on this site should redirect the page you are on. If one ever does, then please leave a comment saying so or contact me to let me know.
Sometimes one of these linked-to pages on Wikipedia will be really rather wanting for information, but this is a very small minority; linguistics is pretty well covered on Wikipedia for the most part. Languages themselves, on the other hand, are kind of hit or miss in terms of abundance of information which is available on Wikipedia. This fact is, of course, mentioned on The Conlangery Podcast (though I cannot recall which episode), but that show less-than-conveniently didn’t exist yet when I started using Wikipedia as a powerful tool for learning.
By the way, that podcast is fantastic. It has provided me with countless insights and has been one of the most beneficial fonts of information I’ve ever stumbled upon. But I won’t really get too much into that here, because I’ll be adding it elsewhere on this site in more detail. But I digress… again.
After opening that link in a new tab, I would then start reading through said tab, until I would encounter another unfamiliar term, and then I would open that link and start reading it. Because I had never taken a formal linguistics class, there would pretty much be unfamiliar terms in every new link I would open. This would eventually lead to having 60 some-odd Wikipedia tabs open all simultaneously, and I would spend all night and all day reading through all of it backwards. If ever I didn’t understand something, I would re-read it, and re-read it, and re-read it until I did understand. And if I still couldn’t understand, then I would move on to the next article for the time being, and come back to read it again at a later date after I’d absorbed more material, and would be able to see it from a new and better informed opinion. And to be perfectly honest, I’m still working on some of it, even now. For example, to this day, I have still never finished reading the entire article on the IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet).
This worked out very well for me. I did this fairly regularly for several years, and I have always continued to do this, though my doing so has certainly slowed down a great deal in today-land; I’ve brought myself so far that I now feel confident that were I to be somehow magically dropped into a university linguistics class despite having never finished high school, I would be able to happily wreck my way through it with flying colourless green colours.
Over the years, I have used what I have learned to dramatically improve Duojjin; adding to it, removing from it, adjusting it, reanalyzing it, and also just coming to really know it. I consider Duojjin equally as much a process of discovery which ‘reveals’ itself to me—so to speak—as I do a process of creation. I don’t mean anything ‘spiritual’ or some such when I say that, if that’s what you’re thinking. I suppose that what I mean is that while I do make a great deal of authorial decisions regarding the language, those decisions themselves have consequences: phonological consequences, morphological consequences, and, perhaps most sensitively, lexicological consequences. I try to allow those consequences to lie as they are lain, and craft further decisions around the results… if that makes sense.
When I first began this project, I was very adamant that it be a logical language. Although I had never heard of Lojban, or Loglan, or even of the concept of logical languages at all at the time. I just knew that I wanted it to be completely unambiguous; that each individual morpheme or word root could only mean one thing. I have since come to the opinion that while a language can have a mostly 1:1 morpheme:meaning ratio and still be perfectly viable, I think that after a point—a point which I dare not attempt to define—it will become too ‘cognitively heavy’ or unwieldy to be of practical use in actual application. It makes the ‘mental loading time’ too long for the ‘specs’ of your brain—so to speak—when that ratio is truly 1:1.
Which isn’t to say that it’s impossible; it’s just impractical. Indeed, it actually makes a fantastic mental exercise, and is definitely an undertaking worth making despite the impracticality. I imagine that doing so oneself is probably the best way to learn about the nature of this impracticality, and I feel like that experience gleans valuable insights. If you do, and you stick with the endeavour for a number of years, I think you are likely to find after a time that your mother tongue has imposed several little unexpected biases that have influenced your morphemes, and that your morpheme:meaning ratio is actually probably not quite as 1:1 as you thought it was.
Today, I have very much laxed up on the whole 1:1 thing. Duojjin is still largely 1:1 (both orthographically and morphemically), and I have not formally documented the specific details about what now makes it not completely 1:1, but I still feel that it is worth mentioning the fact that it’s not. An example of a morpheme with multiple uses today would be “mika” (IPA: /ˈmi.kɐ/ (like MEE-kuh)), which can mean “what” as a noun, and can also be used as a conjunction marking a relative clause which pertains to, or talks about, or describes the grammatical subject of the parent clause. There are not, however—and never will be—so many different uses out of so many different morphemes as to constitute calling it a fusional language. Many of the decisions I’ve made about such things have just felt like the natural thing to do; adapting myself to the language, rather than the other way ’round, where possible and where necessitated by my decided limitations.
So what about Old Dwojin? Without getting too much into it, Old Dwojin (pre-Finnic Influence) probably was a fusional language, thinking back. I know that I wanted it to be agglutinative, but I didn’t know the word agglutinative at the time, and my affixation mirrored English in a lot of ways because it was what I knew, by and large. I just knew that I liked affixation. Every morpheme was a single syllable. Unless one’s language has phonemic tonal distinction, this is generally a bad idea, if you’re thinking about toying with something similar. There are always exceptions, though, and if you really feel motivated to attempt such a language without tones, then by all means, go nuts. ❤ It also suffered from some very noteworthy Diacritic Overload Syndrome.
There were some ways which Old Dwojin’s affixation was actually unique, however, and that carried on and eventually became Duojjin’s tense/aspect derivational system as we know it today. This transformation has basically taken the entire ten years to unfold, and I believe that it is still not quite yet finished taking shape. I do believe that that particular chart has a couple of new faces yet to present before it finally settles on its final paradigm. Most of it is pretty firmly settled, though, and works quite comfortably.
The following is a contrastive example of the same sentence in its original Old Dwojin as compared to its Modern Duojjin form as seen during the immediate post-2007-reform period, and also its Modern Duojjin form as seen today at the time of this writing:
Old Dwojin (c. Early to Mid 2007):
An venthą kéjinskalé, “Kéenska, ikté ån býrg n ån dåhåtyimho ilt hòn vésyelté kéţhaskahé, n ån namt fýr îîté kéţhaskahé, ýr ikté vékelgrönaubrelm dérååjthwéhé.
IPA: /an vɛnˈθeə̯ ˈkeɪ̯.ʒɪnˈska.leɪ̯, ˈkeɪ̯.ɛnˈska, ˈɪk.teɪ̯ byrg n̩ aɪ̯n daɪ̯ˈhaɪ̯t.jɪmˈho ɪlt hɑn veɪ̯ˈsjɛl.teɪ̯ keɪ̯ˈða.skaˈheɪ̯, n̩ aɪ̯n namt fyr ˈiː.teɪ̯ keɪ̯ˈða.skaˈheɪ̯, yr ˈɪk.teɪ̯ veɪ̯ˈkɛl.grənˈaʊ̯bˈrɛlm deɪ̯ˈraːɪ̯ʒ,θweɪ̯ˈheɪ̯/
Now-obsolete Modern Duojjin as it was immediately after the late 2007 reform:
Tuoöra hänessa’jjinnen: “Tullahin. Kohii’idjjjøraejj, deina djjåöšan’eiönvalmos, niin seiessahöl keiššaejj seiessa’kreiåahinde, junavan qjeirraeššöna vaipiessöljeira seiessa’råjattajatmei.”
IPA: /ˈtwɔə̯.rɐ hæˈnɛsː.ɐˈʒinː.nɛn. ˈtulː.lɐˌhin. koˈhiː.ɪˈd͡ʒjɔɪ̯.rɐˌɛʒ, ˈdeɪ̯.nɐ ˈd͡ʒaɪ̯ə̯.ʃanˌeɪ̯.ənˈval.mos, niːn zeɪ̯ˈɛsː.ɐˌhəl ˈkeɪʃː.ʃɐˌɛʒ zeɪ̯ˈɛsː.ɐ.kreɪ̯ˌaɪ̯.ɐˈhin.dɛ, ˈju.nɐˌvan ˈçjeɪ̯rː.ɐˈɛʃː.əˌna vaˌi.piˈɛsː.əlˈjeɪ̯.rɐ zeɪ̯ˈɛsː.ɐ.raɪ̯ˈjat̚ː.tɐˈjat.meɪ̯/
Modern Duojjin as it appears today (early 2017):
Takjåõra heissa’puhůnen. “Tälähinde. Kohjiiidjjjøran seissõhõl seissõ’kreiåalker, ken mõnåadi’sjeivavalmar. Niteõ seissõhõl seissõ’keišåalker. Tatyõlki seissõvi’kelqjeiravåppidallåar.”
IPA: /taˈkjaɪ̯ə̯.ɾɐ ˌheɪ̯sː.ɐ.pʊˈhuɪ̯.nɛn. ˌtæ.læˈhin.dɛ. koˌhjiː.ɪˈd͡ʒjəɪ̯.ɾan ˈzeɪ̯sː.əˌhəl ˌzeɪ̯sː.ə.kɾeɪ̯ˈaɪ.alˌkɛɾ, kɛn məˈnaɪ̯.ɐ.diˌsjeɪ̯.vɐˈval.maɾ. nɪˈtɛə̯ ˈzeɪ̯sː.əˌhəl ˌzeɪ̯sː.ə.keɪ̯ˈʃaɪ̯.alˌkɛɾ. taˈtyə̯l.ki ˈzeɪ̯sː.əˌvi.kɛlˈçjeɪ̯.ɾɐˈvaɪ̯p̚ː.piˈdalː.laɪ̯.aɾ/
The English translation is:
Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.”
This excerpt is Genesis 11:4 from the oh-so-commonly translated Tower of Babel passage from the Bible. For the record, I’m not religious… like… at all. This passage is simply convenient.
I’m not going to include a gloss or analysis here because the entire passage will probably get its own dedicated page here sooner or later. But as you can probably see from these examples, Duojjin has covered a lot of ground over the years, to the point where these different examples from these different eras are largely unrecognizable, especially the oldest one (the first of the three example sentences above). At first glance, the second and third examples (the two post-reform examples) both look rather similar superficially, but if one looks closely, they’ll see all kinds of significant differences… especially when you remind yourself that these are supposed to actually be translations of the exact same body of text, and not two unrelated texts in the same form of the language.
At any rate, I still haven’t learned Finnish… or Japanese… or any of those languages I wanted to learn, except for German, to a not-exactly-stellar-but-at-least-mention-worthy extent. I spent a few months actively working on German with Duolingo to accomplish that, and I plan to return to that in depth at some point, but I’ve been busy with other things, so it’s been on the back-burner for some time. In my defense, I haven’t made a spearheaded effort to learn either of those in many, many years now.
But either way, I have at least more or less provided myself with the necessary means to provide myself with the necessary means to actually spearhead that effort now. It’s taken a long time, and I’ve definitely still got more to go, but I have basically taught myself linguistics. And I dunno’ about you, but I think that that’s rather spiffy. And yes, as long as you’re probably not wondering, I will eventually be adding a page to this site that will provide tips, insights, and a wealth of fantastic external links and resources for the aspiring conlanger; the tools and strategies that I used to teach myself linguistics: the most powerful tool a conlanger can have.
~ Clayton Lafontaine (AKA: Tor Heyerdal)
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