In my career as ghostwriter or editorial consultant, I have often been working with individuals for whom English is a second language. They often speak quite fluently, and have excellent understanding of the written and spoken word in English, typically their second but sometimes their third language. Yet I can recall occasions when my partner or client has edited a section that I have drafted, or written something fresh, and there are more errors than I expected, or a phrase which is not exactly incorrect, but which would identify the author as not a native speaker. I have the same experience in reverse in Spanish, my second language. I like to continue studying and practising. If I draft something, I may guess that I have made six or seven mistakes. Sure enough, my teacher identifies around 12 to 15.

This week the Sunday Times published a profile of Mark Solms, an expert in both neuroscience and psychology. I have an interest in both subjects, and was privileged to attend a workshop by Mark in London in 2019. For many years he has been translating the entire works of Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis.

Mark is bilingual, with native speaker proficiency in both German and English. Moreover, he learned the language in the German community in Namibia, south-west Africa, which had altered less than the European version in the 20^th Century – accordingly, the German he learned was close to that of Freud.

He discovered that, in the most influential English translation of Freud’s work, there had been errors – significant errors, of key concepts. For example, der Trieb, meaning drive, was translated as instinct. In fact, the German for instinct is, well, der Instinkt. Also, das Ich was translated as the ego, but it means the I, or the self. These mistakes have consequences – misinterpreting the work of a significant thinker in one of the main languages of academe.

My own experiences, and the profile of Mark Solms, have led to some deeper-than-usual reflection on the almost infinite complexity, depth and subtlety of language, before you even begin to take into account the many dialects and regional variations, and the fact that languages constantly evolve. I cannot, for example, use the word ‘sick’ to mean ‘really good’ in the way that the younger generation will. The word just makes me think of vomit.

I will often need subtitles if watching a Spanish movie – then again, I sometimes need them for a US drama, which is nominally in English, and even if I have the hearing aids in. Then I read a novel of exceptional craft and genius and I reflect that, while I am fluent in English, I am not as fluent as Anna Burns or Charlotte Bronte. It is similar in music. You may be Grade 8 at the piano, but that doesn’t make you Mozart.

The lesson, I guess, is of the importance of humility. As ghostwriters, we lend our expertise to the client to help them tell their story. We have spent most of our careers doing so, but we need to keep on learning, to keep on and keep on, deepening our knowledge. There is always more to learn.

• Philip Whiteley is an experienced author, journalist and ghostwriter. He writes fiction under the byline PJ Whiteley. More information at: pjwhiteley.com