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Showing posts with label technical writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label technical writing. Show all posts

Thursday, May 22, 2014

The Pains and Joys of Consulting

Many of you have heard more than you need to about my wild and crazy life (not) as a consultant. This has been a simultaneous blessing and curse. On the one hand, I've been free to pursue whatever work I want to do (a lesson learned from Jason Hundley); on the other hand, I've been living with major ups and downs in my work load and income, with mostly downs on the latter. So I've got maximum freedom coupled with maximum uncertainty. Since leaving larger corporate environments, I've learned to enjoy the freedom of small business life, and I want to hold onto that. If I want to keep the consultant lifestyle, I'm going to have to work for it. The uncertainty can only be overcome by getting out there and hustling for more work to keep the bills paid. No, that's not my favorite thing in the world--I'm getting more introverted as I get older--but if it means I get to run my work life the way I want it, including wearing Hawaiian shirts and shorts while working from home, that's a goal that's worth enduring a little social discomfort. It also might mean a little less time on Facebook (maybe). Starting today, I'll be trying to get smarter about this career thing. That'll mean pushing myself harder and in different directions than I've tried before. The support of my friends and family means a lot, so thanks to one and all for your help.

And, seriously, if you know someone who needs a technical writer--in Florida or via internet--you know where to point them. I specialize in translating engineering language about new technologies into words other people can understand.

Bart D. Leahy
Writer
http://heroictechwriting.wordpress.com/
http://www.zeropointfrontiers.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/in/bartleahy2007
http://vizualize.me/ZPGopher#

and 

Event Manager
http://ScienceCheerleader.com 

Sunday, September 18, 2011

New Blog

I have created a blog to scratch a professorial itch: Heroic Technical Writing. The itch is to teach; the blog is a way to scratch it without actually interacting with students. Plus, Heroic will be a more topic-focused blog. This site will continue as my site for topics of personal interest, which tend to wander all over the place. If you're a technical writer, interact with them, or want to be one, you might consider the site worth reading. Otherwise, if I get different readers for it, I won't be offended.

Peace and happy thoughts to ya, even if da Bears DID lose today! :-(

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Space, Inspiration, and STEM Education


Food for thought as I attend the “Igniting Young Minds Through Space” symposium this week...I’m a big advocate of getting kids interested in space exploration as soon as possible. My sister informed me awhile back that my six-year-old niece had built a rocket out of Legos. Warms the heart.


But I think some thought needs to be given to the whole notion that being interested in space as a kid automatically means you’re going to study science, technology, engineering, or math (STEM) subjects. Perhaps I’m an anomaly (big surprise), but as I was taking aptitude tests as a kid, I always scored high on math and science—higher than I did on English, by the way—and yet I ended up as an English major and didn’t get into technical writing until well into my second career at age 33. How did that happen? I was smart enough. My mother was taking an algebra course when I was in sixth grade, and I was doing the problems out of her book for fun. However, around junior high I started having trouble with algebra, and despite being in semi-advanced placement classes, I was really struggling to get by. Part of this might have been a hangover from my social struggles. But part of it was just boredom. I didn’t enjoy doing math for fun anymore. I took environmental science and biology to avoid the math that I knew came with physics and chemistry, and no one pushed me to do otherwise.


All this time, I was following the space program, particularly the Shuttle, which was just starting to fly when I was in junior high (my dad took me to STS-2, the second launch of Columbia, in 1981). But I remained a science fiction geek, very much stuck in my own little world(s). Part of the blame I place solely on myself—I was not incapable, I was lazy. It’s not that I couldn’t do the math, I just didn’t want to. I was bored, and SF seemed more fun/interesting. I graduated Northern Illinois University (19 years ago today, as it happens) with a minimum of dummy-algebra, dummy-trig, and that was it. I was done with that stuff. I majored in English literature, minored in history, and took science classes that didn’t require a great deal of math (meteorology, geology). I was going to write The Great American Science Fiction Novel. I still recall Father Dan asking, “Now that you’ve got no marketable skills, what are you going to do with yourself?” In fact, I had this irrational belief that I could write the aforementioned Novel and make enough money to go to Disney World whenever I pleased. Meanwhile, back in the real world, I ended up working at Disney World for 12 years to pay the bills and support my SF writing habit. Never have written that Novel, by the way.

  Again, despite my interest in space and SF, my career path did not lead directly to a career in the space business. What happened was that I went to a space advocacy convention (the International Space Development Conference) in Orlando when it came to town that year and “got religion,” or at least figured out what I wanted to do with my life: write for the space business. You can thank Robert Zubrin for that. He was a dynamic speaker, at the height of his influence at the time, and talking very boldly about a humans-to-Mars program that could be done within 8 years. I thought, what the heck, I can contribute to that! And so I went back to school to get a B.S. in engineering, figuring that I’d need some technical credential(s) to write for the space business. I willingly enrolled in my first math class for the first time in 15 years, and started the slow slog toward a second bachelor’s degree: dummy algebra, dummy trig, dummy physics…etc. I was doing it, but it was taking me a long time and again I wasn’t having as much fun as I thought I would. Fortunately some understanding person in the guidance office at Valencia Community College pointed out that University of Central Florida had a master’s program in technical communication. It would only take three years, I’d have a better degree, and there was no math required!

  Three years later: program completed. Along the way I finally got technical writing jobs within Disney (“He’s going for a master’s; he must be serious!”), and a year after the M.A., I got a job proposal writing for a defense contractor in Alexandria, VA. Switched companies briefly when my boss got fired and he hired me along to his new employer, then started looking for tech writing jobs in the space business.

  The point of all this was not to provide an exhaustive personal history but to show how convoluted and long a path someone with a liberal arts degree sometimes has to take if they want to get into a technical discipline. Lockheed Martin, which had a plant a couple miles from my home in Orlando, was not interested in hiring me fresh off my B.A. because I was an English major; what the heck did I know about space? They were similarly condescending when I went back with my M.A. in hand. They felt that they needed engineers who could write, not an English major who was interested in technology. Which is how I ended up working for a mid-size defense contractor outside Florida. The other big companies on the Space Coast never even bothered replying.


The other thing is, my interest in space did not result in pursuing a job in a STEM discipline, or even encourage me to take more STEM subjects as a student. I had to reach the tender age of 28 before I decided to go back and work for the space business, and then I ended up pursuing a career as an English major because, again, STEM classes failed to inspire me.

  So what sort of lessons can be derived from this extended anecdote? I hesitate to generalize because, as my friends and family often point out to me, “You’re different.” Nevertheless, there are challenges that STEM educators (and my friends at NASA) need to consider before pushing the notion (or expecting the outcome) that “Interest in Space + Studying STEM Subjects Very Hard automatically = Aerospace Engineer or Scientist.” The hard facts are these:

  • Not everyone has the aptitude for, or interest in, STEM studies or careers.
  • Good teachers matter, not just for the struggling students, but also for the high achievers. Even if you have an interest in STEM, if your teachers can’t inspire or reach you, you will become disenchanted and move on to something else.
  • There are multiple ways to acquire the skills necessary to work in STEM jobs, and they don’t all require advanced degrees, though that was the path I took. We are, as a nation, now super-saturated with degrees, and even if you have a degree, that’s no guarantee that you’ll get a job in the field you want. I was the same space-enthusiast English major in 1991 that I was in 2003, but I had a Master’s degree, and major aerospace companies still did not want to hire me because they didn’t think I could be a technical writer. I had to take a three-year detour with a smaller company who was willing to take a chance on hiring an English major to write proposals for them and then do a lot of non-profit, non-paid writing for the National Space Society. THEN I could go back to NASA and be taken seriously enough to write papers for the space program.
  • The primary thing that got me to my current job writing for NASA was dogged persistence and a belief that my dream was a) achievable and b) worth pursuing.
I got where I wanted because I had someone inspire me to follow my dream, and I was willing to put in the work to make that dream a reality. So, yes: I was inspired by the space program as a kid. However, that did not lead me to become an engineer or scientist of any stripe. The system is not set up for people like me.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Attaboy

You know, writers are really very simple creatures. For the most part, we just want to be left the hell alone unless you want to provide us with love, food, money, alcohol, or recognition for the work we've done. Last Friday, I got a little recognition from the recent AIAA SpaceOps Conference:


Mr. Bart D. Leahy
NASA Marshall Space Flight Center
MSFC, AL 35812

Dear SpaceOps Author(s):

On behalf of the SpaceOps Executive Committee, it is our distinguished pleasure to congratulate you on an outstanding manuscript as presented at the SpaceOps 2010 conference in Huntsville, Alabama. Your topic has been selected by the SpaceOps editorial board as one of the best in the conference and we are pleased to invite you to contribute to the post conference book to be published in the Progress in Astronautics and Aeronautics series by the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics (AIAA) entitled “Space Operations: Exploration, Scientific Utilization & Technology Development.” This hard-bound book, scheduled for release in the summer of 2011, will be a compilation of the best papers from SpaceOps 2010, enhanced and updated to include updated results and additional information.

We congratulate you on your outstanding manuscript and hope that you will choose to have it included in the SpaceOps 2010 post conference book.

Sincerely,

The SpaceOps 2010 Book Editors

W00t and huzzah!

Monday, December 07, 2009

Creating Documents Without Guidance

I've discovered over the years that vague assignments are either a joy or a pain for the professional technical writer. A typical scenario is something like this: your boss or customer comes to you and says, "We have X amount of information we want to get out, but we don't quite know what to do with it. Want to take a crack at it?"

To which I usually reply, "Heck, yeah!" and I dive in. Not everyone is so gleeful about such an open-ended assignment. The top two questions I've been trained to ask for any new document are:
  1. Who's my audience?
  2. What's the purpose of the document (i.e. how do I want them to react after reading it)?

Sometimes I might not get clear-cut answers to even that...the point is just to do information organization/design (More on that in a moment). In addition to the two questions above, there are usually two other questions that affect any document a technical communicator is called upon to produce:

  • What form or format will my document take?
  • What style will I need to use?

In general, the form and format will depend upon the amount of information that needs to be conveyed, while the style will depend on your audience.

But let's say, for the sake of this discussion, that you've received minimal guidance about your content except that the final product will be coming from your corporate president, senior project manager, or someone else near the top of the food chain. I actually enjoy this sort of assignment because it's challenging to think like the boss. You've got, maybe, 2-3 pages' worth (750 words, with or without pictures) of content, which might or might not be organized, and might or might not be on 2-3 pieces of paper...and you might or might not be familiar with the subject matter. Where do you start?

  1. Read: Not to be a smart@$$, but you read what you've been given in whatever order it's presented to you. It might not make the slightest bit of sense, but you have to start somewhere.
  2. Research: This usually means looking up or asking whoever you think might know what unfamiliar terminology means. Ideally you do as much Googling or sniffing through Wikipedia or internal publications before you ask. (I got burned on this a few times before a manager asked me, point-blank, "Do you ever look things up before asking?" Shame-faced, I went back to my cube and did my homework before asking another durnfool question.
  3. Brainstorm: So now that you have the general gist of things...you know what the topic is, what's being said about it, and you know how much stuff you have to work with. Now it's time to take that extra 10 minutes to brainstorm about the pile of data in front of you and in your head. Take a stab at asking:
    --Who do YOU think the audience should be?
    --How do you think they would want to be addressed?
    --What's the most effective way to convey the information and get the reaction you (or your executive) wants?
    --What's the best way to organize the information?
    --How should the information appear visually? (This is the point where my friend Dr. OZMG suggested, "Use pretty fonts and emoticons!" And in truth, depending on your content, this might not be such a bad idea. Sometimes a clever visual gimmick, outside the usual corporate or institutional practice, is exactly what is needed to get your audience's attention.)

    Anything longer than ten minutes, either by hand-writing or making out a list on your computer, is probably wasting your time. Work with a peer or two if this helps you.
  4. Organize: Take your ideas from your brainstorming session and put them into the order and (rough) format that most makes sense to you. This is where the technical communicator, in my view, can add value to any document. The trick is understanding your content enough to know what order or layout most makes sense for the user. Do you have something with a lot of steps? Then your content should be arranged chronologically. Do you have something that needs to be understood geographically or by layout, like a map or a new form? Perhaps you need to work with your graphics person to develop an easy-to-use "mind map" for your content to guide the user visually. Of course you might actually BE the graphics person; but even if you aren't, you should have some idea of how you want your content to appear--electronically or on the written page. Your graphics person might come up with ideas you hadn't thought of because visual imagination is much different from literary imagination--one of the reasons I'm very grateful for the graphics people in my area.
  5. Draft: Start taking a SWAG (engineering term for "scientific wild-@$$ guess") at what you want to say. You've got the content, you've got the layout, now you just need to start doing the brick-and-mortar work of putting words together. Get the basic thoughts down first.
  6. Polish: Your first draft is almost guaranteed to look and read nothing like the final product. This was a hard lesson for an English major to learn coming out of college, where I liked to think that the fire of raw inspiration would carry the day. The serious work isn't getting it down in one fell swoop, but getting it right. This is the point where you start trying to capture the "voice" of your customer and the tone you want to set for your audience. If it's an Important Thing, like something to do with legal or regulatory compliance, your tone is direct, serious, and no-kidding-this-has-to-be-done-or-you-go-to-jail. If it's introducing a new product or service, the tone should be enthusiastic ("See what we're doing" or "See what we're doing for you?!"). If it's something warm and fuzzy, like the annual Independence Day party, perhaps a little levity is called for. It also helps to know the personality or preferred style of your executive. If their behaviors or preferences aren't well known, you might have to ask.
  7. Peer Review: Have another writer or, if none is available, your customer, review your best-guess, polished draft. Expect other ideas and revisions. Depending on whether it's the customer or a peer, you might or might not have more say about changes. If your peer or customer questions why you organized the information a particular way, be prepared to explain your thought process. This can go on for one or multiple cycles. Again, don't take this as the mark of a bad product or a reflection on your work. Requirements change for communication products as much as engineering products.
  8. Finalize: This is where you tweak the minor stuff...missing punctuation, grammatical and other typos, and then turn things over to your graphics person(s) to go to print or online.

I probably could have stopped at step 6, but I've learned a lot about product improvement even toward the end of a development cycle, so it's worth considering the entire "life" of a document as you're creating it.

In the end, you should have a product--web site, presentation, letter, white paper, brochure, or other document--that accomplishes what your customer wanted in the first place. And yes, I do get paid to do this.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Case for Liberal Arts Majors in the Space Business

"NASA hires engineers, they don't hire writers."
--K. E. Leahy (a.k.a. Mom)

"I've got plenty of engineers. What I need is somebody who can write."
--Col. Robert M. Weimer, U.S. Army (Ret.)

I have one of the more unique jobs at NASA, in that my job is to write conference papers, outreach materials, presentations, and speeches for the Ares Projects. Some of my non-techie friends are baffled about this: "How do you write about all that stuff if you don't know rocket science?" On the one hand, they're right, and I spend at least one editing cycle having a subject matter expert going over my stuff to make sure it's not technically wrong. However, it's also to my advantage not to be completely fluent in "Engineerish," "Scientistese," or even "Governmentese." Why? Because my audience is not other engineers. I operate in that broad, hazy territory between rocket geek and normal person.

I actually wanted to be a science fiction writer when I graduated with a B. A. in English lit. That didn't quite work out because I didn't know enough about science or engineering to make that stuff plausible, nor did I understand people well enough to write about them effectively. Good thing I didn't quit my day job.

But English majors still have their place in the universe--yes, even in the uber-techie world of NASA's Constellation Program--and there are even ways to apply the English lit-crit skills that we learn instead of math or chemistry. For example, a general education in linguistics, semantics, and other courses that focus on the structure of language can enable the writer to "understand" engineering without doing the math. What follows will probably horrify my engineering customers, but they cannot argue much about it, because I get more and more right all the time.

Let's say you've got some hypothetical hieroglyphics in front of you, like this:

"It has been determined that the potential for degradation of pofcore performance is increased by drendelation of starboard riffleclamps under increased thermal environments."

Now some of these words are made up (and if they are real, my apologies--they're there to make a point, not describe a rocket). But a wise enough reader can extract a few things from this sentence:

  • You can see that some sort of performance is degraded by drendelation. You don't know what drendelation is right now, but that's not important. You need to deconstruct the sentence some more to get the whole picture.
  • "Increased thermal environments" is a lofty, engineerish way of saying something has been heated up. You know: sort of like "In today's contemporary society vis a vis..." is English Professorish for "Today."
  • The long string of prepositions actually provides a trail of breadcrumbs that leads you back to the actual meaning. It's not just "drendelation" that is reducing X performance, but drendelation of the starboard riffleclamps. And that drendelation is caused by increasing heat.
  • "It has been determined" is just more passive voice. Depending on the audience, the subject, and the purpose of your document, you can provide an actor for who is doing the determining. For example: We determined, The Ares Projects determined, or NASA determined.
  • So now we can more or less determine what the primary subject, verb, and object of this sentence are:
    Subject: the starboard riffleclamps
    Verb: degrade
    Object: performance
    The rest of the words can be moved around to suit the editor's preferred word order, like so:

    "The engineering team determined that the starboard riffleclamps could degrade pofcore performance because they become drendeled (or experience drendeling) when they are heated."

    And imagine that: the sentence even flows better. Who'd have guessed?

Now again, I know nothing about engineering. And obviously I know jack about riffleclamps or any other imaginary technology. Engineers DO write in English, though it is the job of the discerning technical writer to sort out what that English is doing, and how all the parts fit together. This is literally how I "taught" myself engineering, first in the defense business and then later in the space business. Mind you, I knew bits and pieces from reading this or that bit of Clarke or Heinlein, but a lot of my rocketry education came from puzzling out what subjects did what things to what objects until the engineering terms came more naturally. Once I could piece together the words and what widgets did what things, the rest was wordsmithing, and I know that stuff.

The point is, technical writing can be done by non-engineers, and done with great facility. And when it comes to learning the hard stuff, there are definitely more direct and logical ways to go about it than the one I just outlined (though sometimes textbooks don't cover the items I'm asked to write about or edit). However, aside from making the engineerish clearer to a non-technical audience, where I believe liberal-arts majors make their best contributions is in tailoring their content for particular audiences. That requires a bit of imagination and "character research," as you have to a) find out who your audience is for a particular application, and then b) imagine what might motivate your particular reader/listener to care about the subject enough to read further.

And I would have to say that the stereotype of the engineer as having no sense of poetry or "mission" in their work is just that. I'm surrounded daily by people who translate the poetry of mathematics or physical shapes into actual hardware that sends people into space. There are days I wish like heck I could do that. Many of them can even verbally rattle off some very profound answers about why they got into the space business or what the space program means to them. They just don't like to write. To which I say, "Great! More job security for me."

Monday, April 27, 2009

Am I Adding Any Value Here?

I've discovered quite a few things about the space advocacy community. They tend to be a very independent, bright bunch. They are not afraid of exploring new ideas--indeed, many welcome them--but they can also be very much self-educated and attached to particular ideas once they get hold of them. Among us you will find experts in propulsion, space elevators, space mining, space solar power, Mars exploration and terraforming, and so forth. So I sometimes wonder, with all these smart people in the room, where I fit in.

Obviously they have a need for a technical writer, or I'd be at best a hanger-on. But more importantly, I've specialized in philosophy. I keep asking the deeper questions:

  • Why are we doing this?
  • Are we certain this is a GOOD thing to do? Why?
  • What are the implications if we're right/wrong?
  • Who will pay for X?
  • Who will benefit from Y?
  • How else might Z hardware be used?

And so forth. I've read a lot of science fiction but also a lot of "big picture" histories to anticipate what actions might happen next if certain actions are taken. In short, I've specialized in politics. That's not entiely a bad thing--somebody has to--I just wonder if my exposure to it has made me more cynical or pessimistic about the whole enterprise. If anything, I've learned which questions, while sounding naive, are not stupid questions. Progress, of a sort.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Sorting Out Engineering Reality

A recurring problem I have in my line of work is judging what’s “true” and what’s not. It’s not so much that I think people are lying to me about what’s going on in the space business, it’s just that I was too lazy in junior high, high school, and college to get myself a serious education in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM). This is a problem for me and, I fear, for many more Americans, as more and more of our nation’s future choices will be STEM-based. This is part of the reason I’m such a fan of
Darlene the Science Cheerleader: she’s a strong advocate for science education among the non-scientific masses, and gosh knows we all need it.

Now mind you, the space business has, as one of my previous employers put it, “plenty of engineers; what we need is a writer.” So that’s been my role: technical writer. I translate Engineerish into English. I’m able to do this without understanding the work 100% because I understand how words work. They aren’t paying me to understand it all. I do my level best, of course, to educate myself so that I do understand it. And I understand enough about political philosophy and policy to be an advocate.

Sometimes, however, it’s difficult to know which technologies, among the many I’ve supported over the past 8 years, stands a solid chance of succeeding. That leaves me the option of taking things on faith or getting myself a better education. The following narrative, then, is a review of the hot technologies space advocates support, how they’re supposed/claimed to work, and what the objections to them are. I can explain them clearly, as you’ll see, but I can’t for the life of me sort out all this.

Space Solar Power (SSP) / Solar Power Satellites (SPS) / Space-Based Solar Power (SBSP)
How It’s Supposed to Work
A solar power satellite is a large array of solar cells—say, a mile across—placed in orbit. Because it is above the atmosphere and in the sunlight for longer periods of time, the theory is that the SPS would collect more solar energy than ground-based solar. The energy collected from these solar cells would then be transmitted, projected, or beamed down (pick your verb) to a rectifying antenna (
rectenna) on the ground. The power would then go out from the rectenna to a nearby electrical grid. The potential output of such a system would be in the 1-10 gigawatt range.

The Arguments Against It

  • It’s too expensive to get the hardware into orbit.
  • Even if you could bring down launch costs, the operating costs would still not make SSP commercially competitive with any ground-based energy source, including ground-based solar.
  • Even if you could get the hardware up there cheaply and get it to provide power competitively, any usefully scaled SPS is too big to fit on any known launcher (except, maybe, Ares V).
  • Even if you could get the hardware up there cheaply and on a properly sized rocket, it wouldn’t work for the following reasons:
    --Beam attenuation; i.e., the microwave or laser transmitting power to the ground rectenna would lose too much energy to be worthwhile.
    --The SPS would be so big and so lightweight that solar radiation pressure alone would cause it to keep drifting along its orbit. This is how one powers solar sails, which are meant to travel.
    --
    Even if you could get the hardware to work, it would never be accepted by the public because:
    o Environmental activists would go bonkers protesting it because it uses radiation as its primary output (even if that same radiation is also used to power ground-based solar cells).
    o Government environmental regulations would stifle the technology somehow, with or without encouragement from the environmental lobby.
    o “Someone could use it as a weapon.” (See the James Bond flick “
    Goldeneye” for a sample of what that might look like.)
    o It wouldn’t provide much more energy than ground-based solar power.

Fine. I would submit a bit of my own hardheaded criticism, if I may: All of these objections come before anyone has even tried to build, field, and test a single SPS. We should at least try the bloody thing before trashing it or dismissing it out of hand. The cynics and skeptics might be right, but I’d feel more confident of their verdict if they had hard data to back up their assertions.

Reusable Launch Vehicles (RLVs) / Single Stage To Orbit (SSTO) / Two Stage To Orbit (TSTO)
How It’s Supposed to Work
A Reusable Launch Vehicle (RLV) is just what it sounds like: a rocket for getting to space that you can fly more than once. An RLV is supposed to be completely reusable, operating like an aircraft. No stages are dropped into the ocean, the vehicle flies multiple times, and costs are thereby reduced through mass production and repeat flight cycles.
The Arguments Against It
NASA has spent a great deal of time and money trying to develop precursor technologies or actual RLVs for the last 20 years or so. The Space Shuttle system, designed in the early 1970s, is partially reusable. Its solid rocket boosters return to Earth by parachute and splash down into the ocean. The orbiter, which houses the crew and cargo, lifts off like a rocket, its fuel tank is discarded and dropped into the Indian Ocean, and the orbiter then completes its mission, reenters the Earth’s atmosphere, and comes in to land like a glider. The orbiter is then refurbished and refitted for another mission.

The failed or incomplete RLV or partial RLV programs include the
National AeroSpace Plane (NASP), Space Launch Initiative (SLI), Orbital Space Plane (OSP), DC-XA, X-33/VentureStar, and X-34. For want of budgetary support or technological feasibility or both, NASA has not been able to do it. Does that mean RLVs are impossible? No, but they are really damned difficult, and the work has been attempted by some very bright people, both inside and outside the world’s premier space agency. Jerry Pournelle is more optimistic on this score than I am. He believes that the problem with RLV/SSTO has not been the technology so much as the organizations running the programs. He believes if the old NACA “X program” model is followed, then technology development could happen—not immediately, and not with billions and billions of dollars spread around a number of big contractors and important states—but with single contractors, small budgets, shorter timeframes, and more humble goals. Unfortunately, I don’t think our government is up for small and humble anymore.

Space Elevators
How It’s Supposed to Work
A
space elevator (also called an “orbital tower” or “skyhook”) is a structure that stretches from a point on Earth all the way out to geosynchronous orbit. The centrifugal force of the Earth’s rotation counteracts the elevator’s tendency to fall, so the tower stands straight out from the planet like a giant radio tower. The structure becomes an “elevator” when you attach climber vehicles capable of transporting people or cargo up and down the tower’s surface—the most common imagined climber would be a maglev (magnetic levitation) train. The maglev climber would require only electrical power to move, and would not produce sonic booms or require explosive chemicals, as rockets do.
The Arguments Against It
The structural materials strong enough to build a self-supporting elevator were only theoretical until the late 20th century. Then companies began experimenting with artificial diamonds, carbon “whiskers,” and now carbon nanotubes. Unfortunately, no one has made enough carbon nanotubes (which are molecule-sized) to build load-bearing structures. At present, they’re simply too expensive to mass produce.

Another interesting argument I’ve heard is that the elevator would act as a massive short circuit for the entire planet’s ionosphere, which would essentially fry, melt, or disintegrate the tower. The argument here is that the large amount of charged particles in the Van Allen Belts would follow the elevator all the way down to the Earth, becoming the world’s largest lightning rod.

The last argument against the elevator comes from my own experience
observing the Space Elevator Games in Las Cruces in 2006. These Games are sponsored by NASA as a means of generating competition to create technologies that could lead to a space elevator. Rather than a typical wound cable (the original concept for the elevator), these experimental crawlers all had to make their way up a six-inch-wide, 60-meter (~197 feet) tall industrial belt suspended from a crane. We were in the desert, mind you, so winds tend to be a little fickle, but the best guess was that winds were gusting to 10-15 miles per hour. Even in that slight breeze, the belt was whipping about in the wind like a crazed sail or weather flag in a full gale. Several teams had difficulty just attaching their crawler to the belt, much less getting their vehicle to climb the twisting belt. My verdict: even at great tension, atmospheric effects on the Earthbound side of the elevator would prevent any vehicle from traversing the distance safely, to say nothing of what sorts of oscillations might develop when moving through orbital space.

Asteroid Mining
How It’s Supposed to Work
Planetary science professor John S. Lewis makes a pretty compelling
case for mining the metals of nickel-iron asteroids to fulfill resource needs here on Earth or for building settlements in space. These asteroids include massive amounts of iron (obviously), platinum-group metals (useful for fuel cells), water and ammonia “volatiles,” and the equivalent of natural stainless steel.
The Arguments Against It
We’ve landed a couple of robotic spacecraft on asteroids. They weren’t designed for that, but the gravity on asteroids is so small (measured in thousandths of a gravity) that they could just about turn off their thrusters and drop onto them without a jar. That microgravity will be a problem for humans working there, of course, as we’re
learning from the International Space Station.

Next, we have never developed the technical tools for mining, extracting, and refining materials in micro- or zero gravity. (An obvious answer, of course, is “why don’t we?”) However, most mining and refining processes done here on Earth require high heat and gravity effects to separate different components from each other.

Finally, returning to Lewis’s book, he made a point that if all of the useful metals and other materials were mined from a single Amon-class asteroid and sold on Earth at current market prices, their value would be $20 trillion. It’s a great theory that ignores economic reality. Let’s say we found an asteroid that really did make platinum as common as sand on Miami Beach. Even if the platinum were put to work building catalysts for a worldwide fleet of
fuel cells, the price of the commodity would drop to about what you’d expect to pay for a handful of sand in Miami Beach. The materials of the Asteroid Belt may be abundant, but they’ll have to make people rich in space because they sure as heck won’t be on Earth.

Space Tourism / Personal Spaceflight
How It’s Supposed to Work
Civilian excursions into suborbital space by Virgin Galactic, Blue Origin, etc., could generate enough demand and traffic to produce mass-produced rockets, experience in operating RLVs (see above), and capital for a functioning space economy in orbit.
The Arguments Against It
Space tourism has been “just around the corner” since 2004, and it looks like it’ll be another year or two before Virgin Galactic is able to fly paying customers aboard their Burt Rutan-built Spaceship Twos. A lot of operations have folded since the X Prize was won. Others are working in secret. Many things can go wrong, and the American public is not quite as willing to embrace risk as it was 40-50 years ago. One bad accident, and some believe that lawsuits will all but kill the “personal spaceflight” movement.

The more sarcastic individuals within NASA are quick to point out that SpaceShipOne did not make it to orbit, but “repeated something the X-15 was able to do 40 years ago, and Rutan did it using technology developed by NASA.” Aside from the sour-grapes and elitism in those comments, they are technically correct. Yet work on personal spaceflight continues because there still are people willing to shell out the big bucks ($250,000 for a flight on Virgin Galactic, if and when) to fulfill their dreams of space travel.

*

And these are just some of the issues to be addressed in the space business. I haven’t even touched on the Ares vs. EELV or DIRECT/Jupiter 120 debate (nor will I comment publicly on activities where I have a vested employment interest). I know a little more about the government vs. private sector debate, but feel that that’s an argument for another night. In any case, this evening I wanted to focus on technical issues because these are the bigger questions that I do not have enough basis in theory or practice to answer properly. Political questions are another matter.

So, seriously: if there are any technical folks out there who know a reasonably quick way to get smart on the big engineering questions floating around the space business today, I’d be happy to hear it. In the meantime, I can only help the ones who DO know the facts and theories behind their pet projects frame their arguments in better language. The rest, unfortunately, I have to take on faith.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Science Fiction as a Way to Teach Technical Writing

Huzzah! Apparently this blogging thing can be quite a racket if you know what you're doing. I just won a free t-shirt. Darlene, The Science Cheerleader, sent me the following comment:

Hey Bart!Thanks for the terrific posts. Would you kindly summarize one or two "science facts" folks can learn from a great science fiction book? You are, officially, the winner of the Science Cheerleader T-Shirt.

She was responding to my posting below, which suggested that science fiction was an excellent introduction and teaching mechanism for aspiring English majors to find a career in technical writing.

Once upon a time, I created (but didn’t give) a presentation entitled “Everything I Needed to Know About Technical Writing I Learned from Reading Science Fiction.” My basic argument is that:

The SF writer:

  • Describes an unfamiliar world
  • Creates challenges related to or brought about by real or imagined aspects of science
  • Provides solutions to those challenges based on knowledge learned in the environment

The technical communicator:

  • Seeks to help the user understand an unfamiliar technology and solve certain problems based on the communicator’s description of that technology

I used typical SF milieus--”Enormous Big Thing” stories, time travel stories, and SF detective stories–as means of teaching technical communicators mental approaches for dealing with completely new topics or technologies. I summed up with:

You might not ever encounter “enormous big things,” time travel, or crimes in space, BUT…

--You can face large mysteries

--You can face documents or processes that need to be placed in chronological order…or some other order that makes sense to the user at the time

--You may experience “crimes” related to human-technology interactions. So…

Read some science fiction today!

I suppose SF has taught me the most about the consequences and the potential impacts of natural phenomena and technology. Consider the following examples.

From Robert A. Heinlein's "Space Jockey":

The Commerce Commission has set the charges for the present three-stage lift from here to the Moon at thirty dollars a pound. Would direct service be cheaper?--a ship designed to blast off from Earth, make an airless landing on the Moon, return and make an atmosphere landing, would be so cluttered up with heavy special equipment used only once in the trip that it could not show a profit at a thousand dollars a pound! Imagine combining a ferry boat, a subway train, and an express elevator--

***
"Mass ratio...under power, the ship lost the weight of fuel burned. The thrust remained constant; the mass it pushed shrank. Getting back to proper position, course, and speed became a complicated problem in the calculus of ballistics."

***

Or these, from Arthur C. Clarke's The Fountains of Paradise:

He had seen that two-century-old film at least fifty times, and there were sections that we had examined frame by frame, until he knew every detail by heart. It was, after all, the most expensive movie footage ever shot, at least in peacetime. It had cost the State of Washington several million dollars a minute...

Vast, slow undulations, meters in amplitude, were sweeping along the entire width of the span, so that the roadway suspended between the piers twisted back and forth like an angry snake. The wind blowing down the canyon was sounding a note far too low for any human ears to detect, as it hit the natural frequency of the beautiful, doomed structure...

There stood the slim (too slim!) and graceful bridge, spanning the canyon. It bore no traffic, but a single car had been abandoned midway by its driver....

Suddenly, the supporting cables snapped, flailing upward like murderous steel whips. Twisting and turning, the roadway pitched into the river, fragments of the structure flying in all directions...In reality, it had lasted perhaps five seconds. At the end of that time, the Tacoma Narrows Bridge had earned an inexpungable place in the history of engineering.

***

Once again he was back at the Tacoma Narrows Birdge, but this time in a world of fantasy. There was a ship that had to sail beneath it, on a perfectly regular schedule. Unfortunately, the mast was a meter too tall...

No problem. Just before it was due to arrive, a few heavy trucks would be sent racing across the bridge at intervals carefully calculated to match its resonant frequency. A gentle wave would sweep along the roadway from pier to pier, the crest timed to coincide with the arrival of the ship. And so the masthead would glide beneath, with whole centimeters to spare...

And from Frank Herbert's Dune:

[W]e must start on standy-by water facilities at once. No man is going to hold a club over my head!

"It's a rule of ecology," Kynes said, "that the young Master appears to understand quite well. The struggle between life elements is the struggle for the free energy of the system."

"Each bush, each weed you see out there in the erg," she said, "how do you suppose it lives when we leave it? Each is planted most tenderly in its own little pit. The pits are filled with smooth ovals of chromoplastic. Light turns them white...But when Old Father Sun departs, the chromoplastic reverts to transparency in the dark. It cools with extreme rapidity. The surface condenses moisture out of the air. That moisture trickles down to keep our plants alive."

And lastly, from Larry Niven's Ringworld:

He took the holo print and looked into it.

At first it made no sense at all, but he kept looking, waiting for it to resolve. There was a small, intensely white disk that might have been a sun, G0 or K9 or K8, with a shallow chord sliced off along a straight black edge. But the blazing object could not have been a sun. Partially behind it, against a space-black background, was a strip of sky blue. The blue strip was perfectly straight, sharp-edged, solid, and artificial, and wider than the lighted disc.

"Looks like a star with a hoop around it," said Louis. "What is it?"

***

Sometime during these past hours, Louis had found a way to visualize the scale of the Ringworld.

It involved a Mercator projection of the planet Earth--a common, rectangular, classroom wall map--but with the equator drawn to one-to-one scale...But one could draw forty such maps, edge to edge, across the width of the Ringworld.

***

In suchwise, gifted science fiction writers convey a "sense of wonder," either about the nature of the universe, alien artifacts, or humanity's own future creations. Through simple but elegant gifts of prose, writers like Heinlein, Clarke, and Niven entertain, but also teach.