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[003] RobinZimm Current Version
Changed line(s) 3 from:
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Incidentally, I just remembered a bit in [[http://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/60/westfahl60art.htm \
to:
Incidentally, I just remembered a bit in [[http://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/60/westfahl60art.htm \\\"The Closely Reasoned Technological Story\\\": The Critical History of Hard Science Fiction]]:

-> This principle, then, comes first: hard SF is committed to \\\'\\\'avoiding scientific errors in stories.\\\'\\\' There are four ways to achieve this: two are noted in \\\"Whirligig World\\\" but are sanctioned only as minor elements in the kind of SF writing he espouses. A third--implicit in some stories by Clement and others later identified as hard SF writers--and a fourth--the subject of Clement\\\'s article--lead to the two forms commonly identified as hard SF.

-> The first way to avoid scientific errors is simply to employ jargon, impressive-sounding doubletalk that acknowledges the seeming implausibility of some device without trying to explain it--what Clement later called the \\\"gobbledygook subclass\\\" of SF (#6 51). In Clement\\\'s case, facing the problem of Mesklin\\\'s enormous gravity, he says, \\\"Any science fiction author can get around that, of course. Simply invent a gravity screen. No one will mind little details like violation of the law of conservation of energy, or the difference of potential across the screen which will prevent the exchange of anything more concrete than visual signals.... No one but Astounding [sic] readers, that is; and there is my own conscience\\\" (#13 106-107). Clement concedes the method has \\\"obvious advantages\\\"--\\\"the scope of [a writer\\\'s] story is not constrained by mere facts; and a vocabulary can serve in place of scientific knowledge\\\" (#6 42).

-> Clement offers three reasons for avoiding this approach, each involving different SF readers. In \\\"Whirligig World,\\\" the problems is that terminology alone will not satisfy knowledgeable readers, who want more scientific substance in what they read. Twenty years later, Clement is more concerned about people who do not regularly read SF: gobbledygook \\\"furnishes ammunition to intellectual snobs who can\\\'t admit that science fiction is a legitimate branch of the storyteller\\\'s art.\\\" The major reason seems to involve only one reader--the writer--as indicated by Clement\\\'s reference to his \\\"conscience\\\": the author of hard SF regards the use of obfuscatory jargon as a type of cheating, not doing the work of SF; it does not provide what he later called the necessary \\\"discipline\\\" of the hard SF game (#6 42, 45).

-> The second way to avoid scientific errors is to speculate in areas where there is little scientific data. Writing \\\'\\\'Mission of Gravity\\\'\\\' in 1953, Clement said, \\\"I don\\\'t have to describe the life processes [of Mesklinites] in rigorous detail. Anyone who wants me to will have to wait until someone can do the same with our own life form\\\" (#13 113).6 Still, while Clement would venture into vague or questionable science as a small part of his writing, he did not wish to focus a story in such areas: \\\"There may be an afterlife. Telepathy and other psionic manifestations may be real and may some day come under orderly human control. There may be flaws in the laws of thermodynamics, even the first one. It is fun to read stories about such possibilities, but I seem to lack what it takes to write them\\\" (#12 374). Writing about matters where one cannot make scientific errors, like inventing terms to cover scientific uncertainties, presumably does not involve much of a challenge.

-> The third way to avoid scientific errors is to play it safe: set the story in the near future and feature scientific advances that are either already planned or plausible in light of current scientific and technological knowledge. Such stories, which usually occur in outer space, have always been accepted as hard SF: one of the first works ever associated with the term was \\\'\\\'A Fall of Moondust\\\'\\\', and all writers later identified with hard SF have sometimes written in this vein: Clement, \\\"Fireproof\\\" Clarke, \\\'\\\'Islands in the Sky\\\'\\\'; Anderson, \\\"Sunjammer\\\"; and Niven, \\\"The Coldest Place.\\\" One could call this \\\'\\\'microcosmic hard SF\\\'\\\'--involving small steps into the future to predict small advances; in his own classification of two types of hard SF, writer David Brin calls it \\\"engineering SF\\\" (#30 9). Such works are rarely offered as noteworthy examples of hard SF, and few would argue for the superiority of those works over \\\'\\\'Mission of Gravity\\\'\\\', \\\'\\\'Rendezvous with Rama\\\'\\\', \\\'\\\'Tau Zero\\\'\\\', or \\\'\\\'Ringworld\\\'\\\'. Still, since persons known as hard SF writers produce these works, and since these works have been called hard SF, they must be considered part of the subgenre.

-> The fourth way to avoid scientific errors is to deliberately create the most spectacular and implausible environment or development possible while adhering to all known scientific facts. I call this \\\"world-building\\\" macrocosmic hard SF—involving large leaps into the future to envision large advances and new worlds: Brin\\\'s term for it is \\\"scientific SF\\\" (#30 9). This seems the most interesting form and can produce impressive results, like Mesklin and Ringworld. In terms of Clement\\\'s game, though, it is a high-risk strategy; in Niven\\\'s case, knowledgeable readers noted that a structure like Ringworld could not maintain its position, which required Niven to awkwardly add stabilizing rockets in a sequel, \\\'\\\'Ringworld Engineers\\\'\\\'. \\\"Whirligig World\\\" is the first description of the process: writers accumulate and absorb all available scientific information--in this case, information regarding the unseen companion to 61 Cygni--and based on that data carefully develop a detailed picture of the imagined environment, using equations when possible or informed guesswork. Clement says \\\"Whirligig World\\\" is not a \\\"text\\\" on how to create such worlds, \\\"since if the subject is teachable I\\\'d be creating competition and if it isn\\\'t I\\\'d be wasting time\\\" (#13 102), but texts later appeared: Anderson\\\'s \\\"The Creation of Imaginary Worlds: The World Builder\\\'s Handbook and Pocket Companion\\\" and Clement\\\'s \\\"The Creation of Imaginary Beings\\\" (both in #7).

3 and 4 are reversed relative to the scale girlyboy proposed, but otherwise the similarities are striking.
Changed line(s) 3 from:
n
Incidentally, I just remembered a bit in [[http://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/60/westfahl60art.htm \
to:
Incidentally, I just remembered a bit in [[http://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/60/westfahl60art.htm \\\"The Closely Reasoned Technological Story\\\": The Critical History of Hard Science Fiction]]:

-> This principle, then, comes first: hard SF is committed to avoiding scientific errors in stories. There are four ways to achieve this: two are noted in \\\"Whirligig World\\\" but are sanctioned only as minor elements in the kind of SF writing he espouses. A third—implicit in some stories by Clement and others later identified as hard SF writers—and a fourth—the subject of Clement\\\'s article—lead to the two forms commonly identified as hard SF.

-> The first way to avoid scientific errors is simply to employ jargon, impressive-sounding doubletalk that acknowledges the seeming implausibility of some device without trying to explain it—what Clement later called the \\\"gobbledygook subclass\\\" of SF (#6 51). In Clement\\\'s case, facing the problem of Mesklin\\\'s enormous gravity, he says, \\\"Any science fiction author can get around that, of course. Simply invent a gravity screen. No one will mind little details like violation of the law of conservation of energy, or the difference of potential across the screen which will prevent the exchange of anything more concrete than visual signals.... No one but Astounding [sic] readers, that is; and there is my own conscience\\\" (#13 106-107). Clement concedes the method has \\\"obvious advantages\\\"—\\\"the scope of [a writer\\\'s] story is not constrained by mere facts; and a vocabulary can serve in place of scientific knowledge\\\" (#6 42).

-> Clement offers three reasons for avoiding this approach, each involving different SF readers. In \\\"Whirligig World,\\\" the problems is that terminology alone will not satisfy knowledgeable readers, who want more scientific substance in what they read. Twenty years later, Clement is more concerned about people who do not regularly read SF: gobbledygook \\\"furnishes ammunition to intellectual snobs who can\\\'t admit that science fiction is a legitimate branch of the storyteller\\\'s art.\\\" The major reason seems to involve only one reader—the writer—as indicated by Clement\\\'s reference to his \\\"conscience\\\": the author of hard SF regards the use of obfuscatory jargon as a type of cheating, not doing the work of SF; it does not provide what he later called the necessary \\\"discipline\\\" of the hard SF game (#6 42, 45).

-> The second way to avoid scientific errors is to speculate in areas where there is little scientific data. Writing Mission of Gravity in 1953, Clement said, \\\"I don\\\'t have to describe the life processes [of Mesklinites] in rigorous detail. Anyone who wants me to will have to wait until someone can do the same with our own life form\\\" (#13 113).6 Still, while Clement would venture into vague or questionable science as a small part of his writing, he did not wish to focus a story in such areas: \\\"There may be an afterlife. Telepathy and other psionic manifestations may be real and may some day come under orderly human control. There may be flaws in the laws of thermodynamics, even the first one. It is fun to read stories about such possibilities, but I seem to lack what it takes to write them\\\" (#12 374). Writing about matters where one cannot make scientific errors, like inventing terms to cover scientific uncertainties, presumably does not involve much of a challenge.

-> The third way to avoid scientific errors is to play it safe: set the story in the near future and feature scientific advances that are either already planned or plausible in light of current scientific and technological knowledge. Such stories, which usually occur in outer space, have always been accepted as hard SF: one of the first works ever associated with the term was A Fall of Moondust, and all writers later identified with hard SF have sometimes written in this vein: Clement, \\\"Fireproof\\\" Clarke, Islands in the Sky; Anderson, \\\"Sunjammer\\\"; and Niven, \\\"The Coldest Place.\\\" One could call this microcosmic hard SF—involving small steps into the future to predict small advances; in his own classification of two types of hard SF, writer David Brin calls it \\\"engineering SF\\\" (#30 9). Such works are rarely offered as noteworthy examples of hard SF, and few would argue for the superiority of those works over Mission of Gravity, Rendezvous with Rama, Tau Zero, or Ringworld. Still, since persons known as hard SF writers produce these works, and since these works have been called hard SF, they must be considered part of the subgenre.

-> The fourth way to avoid scientific errors is to deliberately create the most spectacular and implausible environment or development possible while adhering to all known scientific facts. I call this \\\"world-building\\\" macrocosmic hard SF—involving large leaps into the future to envision large advances and new worlds: Brin\\\'s term for it is \\\"scientific SF\\\" (#30 9). This seems the most interesting form and can produce impressive results, like Mesklin and Ringworld. In terms of Clement\\\'s game, though, it is a high-risk strategy; in Niven\\\'s case, knowledgeable readers noted that a structure like Ringworld could not maintain its position, which required Niven to awkwardly add stabilizing rockets in a sequel, Ringworld Engineers. \\\"Whirligig World\\\" is the first description of the process: writers accumulate and absorb all available scientific information—in this case, information regarding the unseen companion to 61 Cygni—and based on that data carefully develop a detailed picture of the imagined environment, using equations when possible or informed guesswork. Clement says \\\"Whirligig World\\\" is not a \\\"text\\\" on how to create such worlds, \\\"since if the subject is teachable I\\\'d be creating competition and if it isn\\\'t I\\\'d be wasting time\\\" (#13 102), but texts later appeared: Anderson\\\'s \\\"The Creation of Imaginary Worlds: The World Builder\\\'s Handbook and Pocket Companion\\\" and Clement\\\'s \\\"The Creation of Imaginary Beings\\\" (both in #7).

3 and 4 are reversed relative to the scale girlyboy proposed, but otherwise the similarities are striking.
Changed line(s) 3 from:
n
Incidentally, I just remembered a bit in [[http://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/60/westfahl60art.htm \
to:
Incidentally, I just remembered a bit in [[http://www.depauw.edu/sfs/backissues/60/westfahl60art.htm \\\"The Closely Reasoned Technological Story\\\'\\\': The Critical History of Hard Science Fiction]]:

-> This principle, then, comes first: hard SF is committed to avoiding scientific errors in stories. There are four ways to achieve this: two are noted in \\\"Whirligig World\\\'\\\' but are sanctioned only as minor elements in the kind of SF writing he espouses. A third—implicit in some stories by Clement and others later identified as hard SF writers—and a fourth—the subject of Clement\\\'s article—lead to the two forms commonly identified as hard SF.

-> The first way to avoid scientific errors is simply to employ jargon, impressive-sounding doubletalk that acknowledges the seeming implausibility of some device without trying to explain it—what Clement later called the \\\"gobbledygook subclass\\\'\\\' of SF (#6 51). In Clement\\\'s case, facing the problem of Mesklin\\\'s enormous gravity, he says, \\\"Any science fiction author can get around that, of course. Simply invent a gravity screen. No one will mind little details like violation of the law of conservation of energy, or the difference of potential across the screen which will prevent the exchange of anything more concrete than visual signals.... No one but Astounding [sic] readers, that is; and there is my own conscience\\\'\\\' (#13 106-107). Clement concedes the method has \\\"obvious advantages\\\"—\\\"the scope of [a writer\\\'s] story is not constrained by mere facts; and a vocabulary can serve in place of scientific knowledge\\\'\\\' (#6 42).

-> Clement offers three reasons for avoiding this approach, each involving different SF readers. In \\\"Whirligig World,\\\'\\\' the problems is that terminology alone will not satisfy knowledgeable readers, who want more scientific substance in what they read. Twenty years later, Clement is more concerned about people who do not regularly read SF: gobbledygook \\\"furnishes ammunition to intellectual snobs who can\\\'t admit that science fiction is a legitimate branch of the storyteller\\\'s art.\\\'\\\' The major reason seems to involve only one reader—the writer—as indicated by Clement\\\'s reference to his \\\"conscience\\\'\\\': the author of hard SF regards the use of obfuscatory jargon as a type of cheating, not doing the work of SF; it does not provide what he later called the necessary \\\"discipline\\\'\\\' of the hard SF game (#6 42, 45).

-> The second way to avoid scientific errors is to speculate in areas where there is little scientific data. Writing Mission of Gravity in 1953, Clement said, \\\"I don\\\'t have to describe the life processes [of Mesklinites] in rigorous detail. Anyone who wants me to will have to wait until someone can do the same with our own life form\\\'\\\' (#13 113).6 Still, while Clement would venture into vague or questionable science as a small part of his writing, he did not wish to focus a story in such areas: \\\"There may be an afterlife. Telepathy and other psionic manifestations may be real and may some day come under orderly human control. There may be flaws in the laws of thermodynamics, even the first one. It is fun to read stories about such possibilities, but I seem to lack what it takes to write them\\\'\\\' (#12 374). Writing about matters where one cannot make scientific errors, like inventing terms to cover scientific uncertainties, presumably does not involve much of a challenge.

-> The third way to avoid scientific errors is to play it safe: set the story in the near future and feature scientific advances that are either already planned or plausible in light of current scientific and technological knowledge. Such stories, which usually occur in outer space, have always been accepted as hard SF: one of the first works ever associated with the term was A Fall of Moondust, and all writers later identified with hard SF have sometimes written in this vein: Clement, \\\"Fireproof\\\'\\\'; Clarke, Islands in the Sky; Anderson, \\\"Sunjammer\\\'\\\'; and Niven, \\\"The Coldest Place.\\\'\\\' One could call this microcosmic hard SF—involving small steps into the future to predict small advances; in his own classification of two types of hard SF, writer David Brin calls it \\\"engineering SF\\\'\\\' (#30 9). Such works are rarely offered as noteworthy examples of hard SF, and few would argue for the superiority of those works over Mission of Gravity, Rendezvous with Rama, Tau Zero, or Ringworld. Still, since persons known as hard SF writers produce these works, and since these works have been called hard SF, they must be considered part of the subgenre.

-> The fourth way to avoid scientific errors is to deliberately create the most spectacular and implausible environment or development possible while adhering to all known scientific facts. I call this \\\"world-building\\\'\\\' macrocosmic hard SF—involving large leaps into the future to envision large advances and new worlds: Brin\\\'s term for it is \\\"scientific SF\\\'\\\' (#30 9). This seems the most interesting form and can produce impressive results, like Mesklin and Ringworld. In terms of Clement\\\'s game, though, it is a high-risk strategy; in Niven\\\'s case, knowledgeable readers noted that a structure like Ringworld could not maintain its position, which required Niven to awkwardly add stabilizing rockets in a sequel, Ringworld Engineers. \\\"Whirligig World\\\'\\\' is the first description of the process: writers accumulate and absorb all available scientific information—in this case, information regarding the unseen companion to 61 Cygni—and based on that data carefully develop a detailed picture of the imagined environment, using equations when possible or informed guesswork. Clement says \\\"Whirligig World\\\'\\\' is not a \\\"text\\\'\\\' on how to create such worlds, \\\"since if the subject is teachable I\\\'d be creating competition and if it isn\\\'t I\\\'d be wasting time\\\'\\\' (#13 102), but texts later appeared: Anderson\\\'s \\\"The Creation of Imaginary Worlds: The World Builder\\\'s Handbook and Pocket Companion\\\'\\\' and Clement\\\'s \\\"The Creation of Imaginary Beings\\\'\\\' (both in #7).

3 and 4 are reversed relative to the scale girlyboy proposed, but otherwise the similarities are striking.
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