Tag Archives: fiction

Autorotation Explained

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A primer for non-pilots.

One of my pet peeves is finding inaccurate information in works of fiction (or non-fiction, for that matter). You can argue all day long that fiction is fiction and the writer can write whatever he wants. After all, fiction, by definition, is a made up story. That gives the author license to make things up as he goes along.

I agree that it’s fine to make up the story, but unless it’s a work of science fiction or fantasy (where it might be acceptable to change the laws of physics), it’s not okay to make up the details of how existing things work. I explored this theme in my post “Facts in Fiction,” and picked apart the work of a bestselling author in “Dan Brown Doesn’t Know Much about Helicopters.” Both posts were triggered, in part, by basic errors about how helicopters work that appeared in works of fiction.

The Question

“Facts in Fiction” was also triggered by an email message I received from a writer looking for facts about how helicopters fly. Oddly, I just received another one of those messages not long ago:

I’ve recently been writing a novel in which I have to describe the sound a helicopter makes, how they fly and things along these lines.

But there is a section of my book where a helicopter runs out of fuel and begins to drop. However, below them is a forest and they crash into the canopy. But in order to minimize damage the pilot uses autorotation to make the helicopter somewhat stable. I don’t want to be an ignorant writer that makes stuff up at the expense of fact. I’ve looked up autorotation but it’s still not clear to me- would you be able to help me out with how a pilot would initiate autorotation (in simple terms!)

Again, I applaud this writer’s desire to get it right. The aviation community certainly doesn’t need yet another work of fiction that misrepresents basic aerodynamic facts.

Unfortunately, it’s pretty clear that this writer does not understand how helicopters fly. This is common among non-pilots. Some folks think that the rotor disc — when the blades are spinning — works like a giant fan that keeps the helicopter in the air. Other folks — well, I don’t know what they think. But very few seem to realize that like airplanes, helicopters have wings.

Yes, wings. What do you think the rotor blades are?

Helicopters are rotary wing aircraft. This means that they have wings that rotate.

The Real Question

Although this writer seems to want an explanation of “how a pilot would initiate autorotation,” he has a bigger misunderstanding to clear up first. It all stems around these two phrases:

…a helicopter runs out of fuel and begins to drop.

and

…in order to minimize damage the pilot uses autorotation to make the helicopter somewhat stable.

The problem is that if a helicopter ran out of fuel and the engine quit (assumed), the pilot has only about 2 seconds to enter an autorotation to prevent a catastrophic crash. You don’t enter an autorotation to “make the helicopter somewhat stable.” You enter an autorotation to maintain a controlled glide to the ground that, hopefully, concludes with a landing everyone can walk away from.

Or, put it another way, in the event of an engine failure, the pilot must perform an autorotation if he wants to survive.

So in order to answer the question this writer asked, I need to first address his misunderstanding of how helicopters fly and what autorotation does.

How Helicopters Fly

Let’s start with something most people do understand — at least partially: how an airplane flies.

An airplane has at least one pair of wings that are fixed to the sides of the fuselage. The wings have a specific shape called an airfoil that makes lift possible.

When the pilot wants to take off, he rolls down the runway, gathering speed. This causes wind to flow over and under the airfoil. After reaching a certain predetermined minimum speed, the pilot pulls back on the yoke or stick which lifts the airplane’s nose. This also changes the angle of attack of the relative wind on the wings. That change produces lift and the plane takes off.

Obviously, this is an extremely simplified explanation of how airfoils, relative wind, and angle of attack produce lift. But it’s really all you need to know (unless you’re a pilot).

A helicopter’s wings — remember, they’re rotary wings — work much the same way. But instead of moving the entire aircraft to increase the relative wind over the airfoil, the wings rotate faster and faster until they get to 100% (or thereabouts; long story) RPM. Then, when the pilot wants to take off, he pulls up on a control called the collective which increases the pitch or angle of attack of all the rotor blades. That change produces lift and the helicopter takes off.

It’s important to note here that when you increase angle of attack, you also increase drag. Whether you’re in an airplane or in a helicopter, you’ll need to increase the throttle or power setting to overcome the increased drag without decreasing forward speed (airplane) or rotor RPM (helicopter).

Rotorcraft Flying HandbookIf you’re interested in learning more about lift and how helicopters fly, I highly recommend a free FAA publication called Rotorcraft Flying Handbook. This is a great guide for anyone interested in learning more about flying helicopters. You don’t need to be an aeronautical engineer to understand it, either. If the text isn’t enough to explain something, the accompanying diagrams should clear up any confusion. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

What Happens when the Engine Quits

Things get a bit more interesting when an aircraft’s engine quits.

On an airplane, the engine is used for propulsion. If the engine stops running, there’s nothing pushing the airplane forward to maintain that relative wind. Because it’s the forward speed that keeps an airplane flying, its vital to maintain airspeed above what’s called stall speed — the speed at which the wings can no longer produce lift. To maintain airspeed, the pilot pushes the airplane’s nose forward and begins a descent, thus trading altitude for airspeed. The plane glides to the ground. With luck, there’s something near the ground resembling a runway and the airplane can land safely.

On a helicopter, the engine is used to turn the rotor blades. If the engine stops running, there’s nothing driving the blades. Because it’s the spinning of the rotor blades or rotor RPM that keeps a helicopter flying, its vital to keep the rotor RPM above stall speed. The pilot pushes the collective all the way down, thus reducing drag on the rotor blades — this is how he enters autorotation. (The helicopter’s freewheeling unit has already disengaged the engine from the drive system, so the blades can rotate on their own.) The reduction of the angle of attack of the blades starts a descent, trading altitude for airspeed and rotor RPM. The helicopter glides to the ground. With luck, there’s a clearing or parking lot and the helicopter can land safely.

It’s extremely important to note that as long as the pilot maintains sufficient rotor RPM, he has full control of the helicopter all the way down to the ground. He can steer in any direction, circle an appropriate landing zone, and even fly sideways or backwards if necessary (and he has the skill and nerve!) to make the landing spot. So to say “the pilot uses autorotation to make the helicopter somewhat stable” shows complete ignorance about how autorotation works.

About 30 feet above the ground, the pilot pulls back on the cyclic to slow his forward airspeed. The resulting flare trades airspeed for rotor RPM, thus giving the main rotor blades extra speed. That comes in handy when he levels the helicopter and pulls the collective full up — thus bleeding off RPM, which he won’t need on the ground — to cushion the landing before touching the ground.

The point that needs to be made here is that helicopter engine failures and autorotations don’t always end in a crash. In fact, with a skilled pilot and a suitable landing zone, there’s no reason why it should end in a crash. So in the example presented by this writer, the helicopter doesn’t have to crash at all. It could have an engine failure and safely land in a clearing.

And here’s another newsflash: every helicopter pilot not only knows how to perform an autorotation, but he’s tested on it before he can get his pilot certificate. He’s also required to prove he can do one every two years during a biennial flight review. And if he’s like me, he’s tested annually by an FAA inspector for a Part 135 check ride.

Writers: Do Your Homework!

It’s good to see this writer trying to get the information he needs. But in my opinion, he went about it all the wrong way.

It’s been over a month since I got his emailed request for information. I never replied by email; this is my reply. Has he written his passage without the answers to his question? I have no idea. He never followed up.

But wouldn’t it have been smarter to simply talk face-to-face with a helicopter pilot? Any helicopter pilot could answer these questions and set him straight. Helicopter pilots aren’t so hard to find. Flight schools, tour operators, medevac bases, police helicopter bases, etc. Not only could the writer get his questions answered by someone who knows the answers from experience, but he could gather a wealth of information about helicopters, including their sound, why they don’t usually take off straight up, and other operation aspects. And if he visited a flight school or tour operator and had some extra money to spend, he could even go on a flight to see what it’s like from the inside of the aircraft.

Emailing a blogger who happens to write a lot about helicopters and complain when novelists get it wrong [hand raised] is downright lazy.

And despite what you might think, writing is not a job for lazy people.

On Bad Fiction

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Practice before you publish.

I read some very bad fiction today. It reminded me why so many writers can’t seem to get published.

They suck.

The story was a short mystery in a magazine I downloaded into my iPad from MagCloud. I blogged about the free content there just the other day. Now I feel as if I should add a disclaimer to that post: Some content may not be worth the time it takes to download.

The thing you need to know about MagCloud is that it’s a tool sometimes used by self-publishers to get their content published. In this case, someone had put together an anthology of short fiction in a “Special Short Story Edition” of their magazine. The magazine itself is poorly designed, featuring dense lines of tiny print and low resolution images — yes, I do mean pixelated images; you know resolution has to be very low if a photo doesn’t look good on an iPad. The images have nothing to do with the stories. Not at all. Well, I should amend that description. Not all of the stories were dense lines of small type. Some were rather spacious. There was really no consistency in the magazine’s layout. It was the most amateurish thing I’ve seen since the days of typewriters and wax pasteups.

I don’t know where the editor got the stories he put in the magazine. Maybe he created a contest. Maybe these people actually paid an entry fee to “win” a place in the 60-page PDF that would cost a whopping $13.95 plus shipping to get in print. But that’s beside the point.

The point is that I read one short story and it was bad. Very bad.

There are three points that made the story bad and they repeated themselves throughout the story: author voice, missing information, and factual inaccuracies. Let’s take a look at each.

Author Voice

I am a huge believer that the author’s voice should not distract the reader from the story. The author is narrating — telling the reader what’s going on. She’s setting a scene, describing action, reporting dialog. As you read the author’s words, you should be able to step into the page (so to speak) and see and hear what’s going on.

Good writers can do this. Great writers can do this even when editorializing along the way.

But bad writers absolutely suck at doing this. They’re so hung up on writing the descriptions, using the right words, reporting the things they think will bring the scene alive. They so obviously write with a thesaurus nearby.

Take this opening passage:

Detective Emma Knightwood sighed heavily as she stared at the body lying only inches in front of her sensible brown shoes. Emma was a petite woman of fifty-four, with salt and pepper black hair and green eyes. Although it was nearly midnight, her ivory silk blouse with the elaborate lace bow looked as fresh as when she’d put it on that morning and she never would have admitted that she was perspiring beneath her brown tweed suit. Emma was as frugal and exacting as a miser slowly counting his piles of gold and her support hose had been carefully darned several times over, rather than being replaced with a new pair.

This is the opening paragraph of the story. The paragraph that’s supposed to be “the hook.” I’m not hooked. I’m turned off by a cheap spinster detective wearing brown and darned support hose.

But here are some specific problems:

  • The first sentence mentions that Emma was looking at the body that lay at her feet, but the remaining lines of the paragraph don’t mention the body again at all.
  • Is her hair salt and pepper or black?
  • How is it that her silk blouse can look fresh at midnight if she put it on that morning and she’s sweating?
  • Why wouldn’t she admit she’s sweating? Is that a character trait?
  • What’s with the miser counting gold? That run-on sentence takes the reader away from the character and the story before bringing the reader back to the character.
  • This is the opening paragraph of the story. Do we really need to know all these details about this main character now? Or ever? Nothing else that comes later in the story refers to any of this.

Here’s a bit more, with dialog. It comes after a few paragraphs about the victim, the fact that there have been multiple murders lately, and an introduction to Emma’s partner, Detective Stanton Reynolds. Reynolds has just asked Emma what she thinks.

Emma straightened and pushed her wire rimmed glasses up her small nose. “I don’t know. Read me the summary of the victims again.”

“Okay,” Stanton replied, flipping through the pages in his small blue book. “The first victim was Ophelia Danworthy, age sixty-eight, married with four children, retired. The second and third victims, Candace Winters and Henry Simpson, worked together in the same jewelry story and were killed while attempting to make the store’s nightly deposit at a bank. Ms. Winters was single, unmarried and Mr. Simpson was a bachelor, nearing retirement.”

“No signs or a robbery attempt on the store employees?” Emma queried.

“None. The bag of money and deposits was found with the bodies. Victim number four was Sophie French, age thrity-four, a successful businesswoman, unmarried and no children.”

“And now Rachel Zerinsky,” Detective Knightwood sadly mused aloud.

This, like most of the rest of the story, is screaming at me in the author’s amateurish voice, preventing me from getting into the story, forcing me to nitpick every sentence.

  • Emma’s nose is small here, but it’s also slender a few paragraphs later when she does the glasses poke again.
  • Ophelia Danworthy? Rachel Zerinsky? Oddball names for no reason can be distracting, too.
  • Ophelia was 68 and she had four “children”? I hope they were grown children.
  • Emma’s “query” about signs of robbery is so obviously contrived as a way to pass information to the reader using dialog. Emma would have to be a pretty crappy detective to forget that the jewelry store employees were not robbed when a “bag of money” was found with them.
  • “Queried” and “sadly mused aloud” are two examples of overstated dialog attribution. If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, Google “dialog attribution” and see what comes up. Although I don’t completely subscribe to the “he said,” “she said” school of dialog attribution, I agree that using an excess of odd attributions — especially combined with adverbs — is extremely distracting. (Stephen King’s On Writing goes into this in a good amount of detail.)

The author attempts a lot of character development through dialog and by telling the reader about the characters. In doing so, she inserts so much of her voice that the reader can’t get into the story. She needs to learn more about what some people call the first rule of writing: Show, don’t tell. According to Wikipedia,

Show, don’t tell is an admonition to fiction writers to write in a manner that allows the reader to experience the story through a character’s action, words, thoughts, senses, and feelings rather than through the narrator’s exposition, summarization, and description. The advice is not to be heavy-handed, but to allow issues to emerge from the text instead, applies to non-fiction writing too.

Heavy-handed is the phrase I’d use for this author’s work.

Missing Information

One of the rules of mystery writing is called “fair play.” Fair play means that the reader gets all the clues the detective has. This is so the reader can solve the mystery or at least understand how the detective solved the mystery.

This author fails at fair play.

  • In the beginning of the story, she mentions “strange clues” left behind at the scene of each crime but never details what these clues are.
  • Later, when a diamond is found at the murder scene, she talks with her partner about the “stones found at the scene of the crime.” Are those the strange clues?
  • The analysis of the clues are far beyond the capabilities of an average person.
  • The murderer is identified during a dialog that presents new information unavailable to the reader. A name is thrown out as they race to the next victim’s apartment and, sure enough, he’s the killer.

To make matters worse, there are no real red herrings — clues that lead to false conclusions. There’s no challenge to the story, nothing to make it interesting.

Factual Inaccuracies

This story has more than its share of factual inaccuracies.

  • The murder victim described at the beginning of the story was supposedly bruised from being beaten with a strand of pearls after death. Although the story does not mention how long the victim had been dead, bruises for injuries inflicted before death can appear as red or blue flesh for the first five or so days after death. Bruises for injuries inflicted after death do not appear in color. This is likely due to the lack of blood flow after death. This document explains. (It took 10 minutes for me to confirm this using Google.)
  • Another police officer calls out to the detectives: “Mr Reynolds? Miss Knightwood?” If they are detectives — as they were both introduced to the reader earlier in the story — they would be addressed by fellow police officers as “Detective Reynolds” and “Detective Knightwood.” Even television can teach you that.
  • A diamond in the story is referred to as huge. Emma says, “It must be at least three carats, maybe more.” Sorry, Emma. Three carats is not “huge.” I wear a full carat on my finger and it’s smaller than the size of a pea. Two carats would be a fat pea. Three would still be smaller than a chick pea (aka garbanzo bean). Now if you were talking ten carats — well that would start getting closer to huge — for a diamond, anyway.
  • When a set of clues resolves into a series of numbers — 878910 — the detectives automatically assume they’re “latitude or longitude in hours, degrees and minutes.” Whoa. First of all, no latitude or longitude in the U.S. starts with 8 or 87. While it’s true that the coordinates could refer to a place in another country, that’s a pretty far leap for the detectives — especially ones who refer to coordinates in terms of hours. Latitude and longitude is measured in degrees, minutes, and seconds. There are no hours.
  • Here’s where the author’s spelling checker failed her: “Devon held Miss Barron in front of him like a shield, pressing the point of a long butcher knife over her juggler vein as his brown eyes shifted from one officer to the other.” [Emphasis added.] I think she means jugular vein. Oops. At least I got a good laugh.
  • Back to the diamond. Emma taunts the murderer by insulting the way he cut the diamond. (He’s supposedly an expert diamond cutter.) She says, in part: “Some of the facets are incorrect and you’ll have to admit, your cut is a little shallow, as well.” Huh? Putting that aside, she goes on to say, “You can always break it and try again.” Break a diamond to recut it? What the hell is she talking about? She then tosses the diamond into the air and the murderer lunges for it — apparently to prevent it from breaking. The diamond bounces on the “hardwood floor” and is unharmed. What else would we expect? A diamond is one of the hardest substances known to man. It isn’t going to break by being dropped on a hardwood floor. An expert diamond cutter would certainly know that, so why is it that he “lunged sideways to catch the diamond before it hit the floor”? Could it be that the author hasn’t got a clue about diamonds?

Bad is Bad

I could continue tearing this story apart, but I think I’ve done enough to make my point. This author:

  • Does not have good writing skills.
  • Is not true to her genre.
  • Does not know how to do research (or is too lazy to do it).

The resulting story is amateurish, almost to the point of being funny. In all honestly, the only pleasure I got from it was tearing it apart as a lesson to myself and anyone who might be interested in writing quality fiction. It’s a perfect example of how not to write a story.

I know I’ve quoted a lot of text from the story, but I’ve done so under the guidelines of fair use, presenting the material in an editorial manner. I have not mentioned the name of the author or the publication so as not to embarrass either one. If the author or publisher read this and want to be mentioned by name, please let me know and I’ll do so. Just don’t expect me to modify this post beyond that. There are lessons to be learned here.

Now excuse me while I purge this crap from my iPad.

Writing Tips: Writing Accurate Descriptions

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A response to a blog comment, and more.

I need to say that I really can’t thank blog commenters enough for taking the time to write. Not only do they often add useful information beyond what I know — thus adding incredible value to this blog — but they sometimes post questions or comments that get my mind going and give me fodder for new blog posts.

I received such a comment this morning and it prompted me to write a new article for my Writing Tips series.

The Importance of Accurate Descriptions

I touched upon the topic of accurate descriptions in fiction in a post I wrote last month: “Facts in Fiction.” In it, I explained why I thought it was important to get the facts about the “real” parts in fiction correct. I talked about the depth of a fictional world and how it would determine what facts and descriptions needed to be accurate.

My goal in that piece was to urge fiction writers to get the facts straight. Errors, when noticed by readers, can seriously detract from the work. For example, I believe I cited the example of a bestselling author who claimed that when a helicopter was low on fuel, it would be safer to fly lower than higher. This is downright wrong, no matter how you look at it. The author’s reasoning proved he knew nothing about the thought he was putting in a character’s head — a character that should have known better. This absolutely ruined the book for me, making me wonder what else he’d gotten wrong.

You can argue that fiction is fiction and that the writer can make up facts as he goes along. I disagree. My “Facts in Fiction” post explains why, so I won’t repeat it here.

Today’s Question

Today’s question comes from a comment on my recent blog post, “Dan Brown Doesn’t Know Much about Helicopters,” in which I painstakingly (and perhaps nitpickingly) point out a bunch of errors in Brown’s latest literary masterpiece (and yes, that is sarcasm), The Lost Symbol. The errors revolve around the inclusion of a helicopter as a repeating plot component throughout the book. Brown used his descriptive skills to make several claims about helicopters that simply were too far fetched to be believable. (But then again, isn’t that what Dan Brown’s work is all about?) I detailed them for blog readers.

One reader found the post useful. She wrote:

I just wanted to let you know I found this blog immensely helpful as I am writing a chapter in my book that involves a helicopter ride. I must say that I am striving to find new ways to describe the sound a helicopter makes. It’s rather unmistakable when you actually hear it, but to describe it to a reader is much more difficult. I recently wrote… “the deafening drill of the helicopter’s rotors made conversation impossible…” and one of my proof readers balked at the use of the word “drill.” I’d love to hear your comment on that one!

I started to respond in a comment, but the length of the comment soon bloomed into blog post length. So here’s the response.

First, I definitely agree about the word “drill.” Now here are some points to consider:

  • Have you actually heard a helicopter close up? Or at the distances you’re trying to write about? First piece of advice is to go someplace where you’re likely to hear helicopters and listen to them. Then describe what you hear.
  • Does the word “deafening” really apply? I think Dan Brown used that one, too. Deafening is a strong word. Unless the listeners were standing/sitting right outside the helicopter or inside with a door open/off, I don’t think deafening would be accurate. Helicopters are not as loud as people think — unless you’re right up next to them.
  • Lots of folks think it’s the rotors making all that noise. Close up, it’s the engine you mostly hear. Piston engine helicopters sound like airplanes; turbine engine helicopters sound like jet planes. Are you trying to describe the sound of the helicopter’s engine or spinning blades?
  • The tail rotor on many helicopters actually makes more noise than the main rotors. Why? The tail rotor blade tips are sometimes traveling near the speed of sound. Maybe it’s the sound of the tail rotor you want to describe.
  • How fast are the blades spinning? Is the helicopter just winding up? Is it at idle RPM (usually around 70%)? Is it fully spun up to 100% but still sitting on the ground? Preparing to lift off? In flight? There are differences — significant or subtle — in the sound depending on the blade speed and what the helicopter is actually doing.
  • How many blades does the helicopter have? You’re more likely to hear a rhythmic “wop-wop” sound coming out of a large helicopter with a two-bladed system — like an old Huey — than a smaller helicopter with four or five blades — like a Hughes 500C or D.

As you can see, it’s not as easy as asking someone if you can use the phrase “deafening drill” to describe a helicopter’s sound. There are too many variables. And at least three components are making that noise: engine, main rotor, and tail rotor. You need to hear the sound to describe it.

Do Your Homework

As I writer, I’m more bothered by the introduction of stereotypical descriptions — even if they’re not actually cliches — than inaccurate descriptions. Yes, it’s easy to ask a pilot whether a description you’ve written about flying rings true. But it’s lazy (for lack of a better word) to use a stereotype or cliche to describe a sound when you have the ability to hear it for yourself. And its irresponsible, as a writer, to expect a pilot or proofreader to come up with a better descriptive word for you. That’s your job.

If you want to write about the sound of a helicopter, for example, get your butt down to an airport or police helicopter base or medevac base. If you’re writing about a helicopter ride, as this commenter is, go for a helicopter ride.

Talk to the folks at the helicopter base about flying. Be straight with them — tell them you’re a writer and are doing research. (That is what you’re doing, isn’t it?) Let them read a passage or two from your manuscript if you think they can check it for authenticity. Then wait around until a helicopter operates in the area and listen. Get the permission (and possibly an escort) to stand or sit where you need to be to hear the sound as you need to hear it. Record it if you think it’ll help. Make sure you get the right sound for the right phase of flight. After experiencing this, you should be able to accurately describe it.

Do not rely on what you see/hear on television or in the movies. Many sounds are usually added after the fact. I’ve seen clips where the sound of an aircraft didn’t match the type of aircraft being shown. Movies also show helicopters departing almost straight up or landing almost straight down — a pilot will only do this if he must. (Read “The Deadman’s Curve” to learn why.)

Authenticity is Worth the Effort

There’s an added benefit to doing your homework: authenticity now and in the future.

For example, a visit to a helicopter base or ride in a helicopter will give you all kinds of additional details about the helicopter or flight operation. Do people really need to duck when getting out of/into a running helicopter? How is downwash different between an idling helicopter and a helicopter that’s just lifting off or arriving? How strong is the downwash from a hovering helicopter? What does it feel like? How does it smell? What does a turbine helicopter’s engine sound like when first starting up? (Think of your gas barbeque grill and you won’t be far off.) What are the pavement markings like on the helipad or helispot? What’s the pilot wearing? What’s he holding?

These little details will not only add authenticity to what you’re writing now, but they’ll give you plenty of useful material for the next time you need to write about helicopters.

It’s Not Just Helicopters

I’ve used the example of helicopters throughout this post because that’s one of the things I know from experience — and that’s what the question that prompted this post was all about.

But the advice in this post applies to anything that’s outside your realm of knowledge.

You know the age-old advice about writing: Write what you know. Well, you know what you experience. The more research you do — the more things you experience firsthand — the more you know. And the more you can write about accurately and authentically when you need to.