The “Here’s What I’m Thinking” fight scene: This form of fight scene is a stop-and-go approach, pausing the action to examine what the character is thinking or feeling. Balance is extremely important in this method. Too much focus on the internal thoughts and feelings slows the action and kills all the excitement. Most authors tend to use this in some form or another, but the martial art fight scene writers tend to use it the least, opting instead for describing the mechanics of the fight.
Example: Fall of Angels (1996) by LE Modesitt, Jr. At the scream, Nylan blinked, then lifted his blade as a bearded armsman bore down. The engineer wanted to turn and flee, but he'd just get himself cut down from behind. Nylan barely managed to get the blade up to deflect the smashing blow, and his entire arm ached. He urged the mare sideways, raising his own weapon again, and hacking the bearded man, who caught Nylan's blade with the big crowbar. Again, Nylan's arm shivered, but he actually gouged a chunk of iron from the huge sword. He wished he had had the time to try his shield idea, but the armsman brought the huge blade around in a sweeping, screaming arc, and the engineer was forced back in the saddle. He could no longer see what else was happening, though he could feel the lines of white-red force flying toward and around Ryba. Almost automatically, as the attacking armsman overbalanced, Nylan felt the moves that Saryn and Ryba had drilled into him taking over, and his blade flashed-once ... twice. What makes it work: The writer takes the time to tell the reader what the protagonist is feeling and thinking, and what the protagonist extrapolates from events as they happen, giving insight to the character and making the protagonist more sympathetic to the reader. Notice above that Modesitt uses a balanced mixture of long and short sentences, and that the sentences are also balanced between the protagonist's thoughts and action of the fight. If this is the style you're going for, this balance is crucial. Why it doesn’t always work: A lack of details in the fight can sometimes create confusion that pulls the reader out of the story in order to puzzle-out exactly what is happening. When the scenes have too much internal focus, the reader loses the pacing of the fight--in other words, the fight gets boring. Neutral observations: Modesitt uses several “as X did this, Y did this” constructions per fight scene--many include actions that are not really happening at the same time and could have been written in the order they naturally occurred; however, Modesitt never uses them so much that they become distracting. When in doubt, get rid of the "as X." We authors think that "as X" constructions speed the writing up, when in fact they actually slow it down. Notice that no technical descriptions where given to any of the movements that would imply formal training, but there are references to acting without thought due to hours of practicing. If your more inclined to get into the mechanics of the fight, read entry #1 on "The Martial Arts" fight scene.
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The “Weapons do the Fighting” scene: In this technique, the weapons appear to do the fighting most of the time, not the people. This is pretty much self explanatory, but to make it simple, weapons take on a life of their own and sometimes display human characteristics.
Example: The Last of the Renshai (1992) by Mickey Zucker Reichert Another arrow cleaved air. Garn dodged, but not far enough. The point drew a gash along his arm, flaring pain that only fueled his rage. Nantel's men closed in to protect their leader as Garn fell upon them like a wounded wolf. His sword slashed a red line through one's chest. Unprepared for the complete commitment of Garn to battle, the first fell dead without a return stroke. Another twisted, escaping Garn's savage swipe more from luck than skill. Nantel tossed aside his useless bow, and it skittered off behind him, clattering on cobble. Drawing his sword, he elbowed for a position among his men. Garn jabbed a knee into an attacker's groin. The guard doubled over, baring his head to a hilt stroke that shattered his skull. Spots swam before Garn's vision. One step closer to Nantel, he gave himself fully over to battle lust. From another section: Rache's sword flashed in offense only once; it licked across Garn's neck. What makes it work: When used sparingly, the focus on the weapons and instruments make for a nice break from the protagonist stabbing, cutting, hacking and swinging sharp metal objects all the time. The writer just has to be careful that there are not a bunch of “ghost weapons” fighting the battle. Remember that the book or story is about a person, not their weapons, and that this technique weakens the character when overused. Basically, the weapons are doing all the work, and therefore the reader consciously or unconsciously does not credit the protagonist with the fighting skill. This is not always a bad thing, which is why it is included in the “makes it work” section. It's a good technique to use with a novice swordsman/fighter. In this way, the writer can have the protagonist win the fight, but create a hollow victory that doesn’t make the character such a “badass” in the reader’s mind. Why it doesn’t always work: While these two examples are not indicative of the whole book, Reichert uses it much of the time. The arrow cleaves the air, the point gashes the protagonist, the sword slashes a red line, and the sword licks across a neck. There is a palpable separation between the protagonist and the weapons, and besides weakening the character, it can become quite distracting to the reader when overused. The “Story Teller” fight scene: In my mind, this is strongest form of fight scene writing, and it's been used by many recent successful novels. This form is all about the writing style of the author and the authenticity of the viewpoint character, meaning that for the technique to work, the writer must capture the personality of the viewpoint character perfectly.
Example: The Blade Itself (2006) by Joe Abercrombie It wasn’t ’til the Dogman was hid behind a bush with his bow in his hand and a shaft at the ready that he realised. He’d no idea what the signal was. He looked down at the Shanka, still sat there all unwary, grunting and shouting and banging about. By the dead he needed to piss. Always needed to piss before a fight. Had anyone said the signal? He couldn’t remember. “Shit,” he whispered, and just then Dow came hurtling out from the trees, axe in one hand, sword in the other. “Fucking Flatheads!” he screamed, giving the nearest a fearsome big blow in the head and splattering blood across the clearing. In so far as you could tell what a Shanka was thinking, these ones looked greatly surprised. Dogman reckoned that would have to do for a signal. He let loose his shaft at the nearest Flathead, just reaching for a big club and watched it catch it through the armpit with a satisfying thunk. “Hah!” he shouted. He saw Dow spit another through the back with his sword, but there was a big Shanka now with a spear ready to throw. An arrow came looping out of the trees and stuck it through the neck, and it let go a squeal and sprawled out backwards. That Grim was a damn good shot. Now Threetrees came roaring from the scrub on the other side of the clearing, catching them off guard. He barged one Flathead in the back with his shield and it sprawled face-first into the fire, he hacked at another with his sword. The Dogman let go a shaft and it stuck a Shanka in its gut. It dropped down on its knees and a moment later Tul took its head off with a great swing of his sword. The fight was joined and moving quick—chop, grunt, scrape, rattle. There was blood flying and weapons swinging and bodies dropping too fast for the Dogman to try an arrow at. The three of them had the last few hemmed in, squawking and gibbering. Tul Duru was swinging his big sword around, keeping them at bay. Threetrees darted in and chopped the legs out from under one, and Dow cut another down as it looked round. The last one squawked and made a run for the trees. Dogman shot at it, but he was hurrying and he missed. The arrow almost hit Dow in the leg, but luckily he didn’t notice. It had almost got away into the bushes, then it squealed and fell back, thrashing. Forley had stabbed it, hiding in the scrub. “I got one!” he yelled. What makes it work: Abercrombie has a gift for creating vivid, unique characters, each with a powerful voice. In the example above, the protagonist is a lowborn, somewhat wild, Northman who has spent his whole life fighting. The reader can almost ascertain all of this just from the voice of the character, and the rhythm and flow feel as if a great storyteller is telling the story in a hall or at a campfire. There is also a “grittiness” to the fight above, and to most of Abercrombie’s fight scenes, but Abercrombie does change the style enough from character to character to keep the feelings and descriptions authentic to the POV characters. Why it doesn’t always work: Not all writers are great “storytellers.” When the writer fails to capture the voice of the character well, the fighting becomes distant and feels like the author is telling the reader about the fight third hand (as in the dreaded workshop words: you are telling vs. showing). Neutral observations: There are a lot of action verbs. Keeping these verbs in the tone of the viewpoint character is vital to maintaining excitement and tension, keeping the description authentic to the character, and moving the scene along at a rolling, fast pace. The “Professional” fight scene: While this technique is similar to the “Martial Art” technique, there are some differences that make it a superior. Like the “Martial Art” technique, there are some play-by-play moments, but they are done purposefully to show how efficient the character fights, not for the sake of showing the technique and moves. There is a subtle difference. To really get a sense of this method, think of it as watching a fight scene under a strobe light, with the author choosing which moments are lit and which are dark.
Example: The Way of Shadows (2008) by Brent Weeks The young Khalidoran’s sword had barely cleared its scabbard when Kylar disemboweled him. Then he danced past the man, throwing a knife with his left hand, parting hardened leather armor and ribs with an upward cut, and guiding a sword hand past his side and the sword into another soldier’s body in a smooth motion. Kylar jerked his head forward into a highlander’s face and spun with the man quickly. The man’s back absorbed the captain’s halberd with a meaty crunch. Kylar dropped under a slash and stabbed up into a highlander’s groin with his wakizashi. On his back, he knocked the man backward with a kick, and used the force of the kick to spring to his feet. Six men were dead or down. Four remained. The first was impetuous. He charged with a yell, something about Kylar killing his brother. A parry and riposte, and brother joined brother. The last three moved forward together. What makes it work: The fight scene moves quickly and efficiently, not lingering on a lot of back-and-forth attacks and parries. This works very well when we want to display a protagonist that is an expert...well in Kylar's case above, a master. There is little feeling in the fight scene. In the third paragraph above, the protagonist’s nonchalance subtly gives some insight into how he feels, but as a whole, this type of fight scene does not have time for emotion and feeling. Fighting is a time of action; feelings come later. This is obviously a generalization and not the rule for every fight in the book. A first kill, for instance, has more insight into the character’s emotional state, but still an insignificant amount in comparison to the “Here’s What I’m Thinking” style. Why it doesn’t always work: Blink and you miss something! While you can often skim paragraphs in a “Martial Arts” fight scene, you can’t do this while reading the “professional” method because the writing sacrifices clarity for speed. In the three small paragraphs above, the protagonist dispatches six attackers. At times, this technique can feel rushed and leave the reader breathless and confused. In the section above, I personally had to pause at the line “On his back...” because I didn’t know how or who had ended up on the ground. It wasn’t clear. Neutral observations: As the scene above shows, there is as much, if not more, focus on the damage that results from the attacks than on the fight itself. While not as bloody and gruesome as the “carnage” technique, there is generally the same amount of death and damage. The difference is in the shorter, cleaner descriptions. The author does not spend his or her time focusing on the damage. The “Vengeance Driven” fight scene: This technique is like a mini Mel Gibson revenge thriller and the scene is generally superfluous to the primary plot-line. It is a direct, no-nonsense fight, usually for the side of good, or at least to destroy evil, that is cathartic for the reader. This fight has no real benefit to the plot, but it shows the protagonist accomplishing something that is beneficial for himself or humanity as a whole and establishes his prowess in battle.
Example: The Complete Chronicles Of The Jerusalem Man (1996) by David Gemmell Shannow fought to hold the surging anger, but it engulfed him and he pushed himself to his feet, his hands curling around the butts of his pistols. He stepped into sight and the men scrambled to their feet, dragging knives and hatchets from their belts of rope and hide. Shannow's guns came up and then he spoke. "Thou shall be visited by the Lord of Hosts with thunder and with earthquake and great noise . . ." He triggered the pistols and two men flew backwards. The other five screamed and charged. One went down with a bullet in the brain, a second fell clutching his belly. A third reached Shannow and the man's hatchet flashed for his head, but Shannow blocked the blow with his right arm and thrust the left-hand pistol under the attacker's chin. The top of his head flowered like a scarlet bloom. A club caught Shannow on the side of the head and he fell awkwardly; his pistol fired, shattering a man's knee. As a knife-blade rose above his face, Shannow rolled and shot the wielder in the chest. The man fell across him, but Shannow pushed the body clear and lurched to his feet. The man with the shattered knee was crawling backwards. ". . . and great noise, with storm and tempest and the flame of devouring fire." The cannibal raised his arms against the pistols, covering his eyes. Shannow fired twice, the shells smashing through the outstretched hands and into the face beyond, and the man pitched back. Shannow staggered and fell to his knees; his head was pounding and his vision blurred and swam. He took a deep breath, pushing back the nausea that threatened to swamp him. A movement to his right! He pointed his pistol and a child screamed. "It's all right." said Shannow groggily. "I'll not harm you. 'Suffer little children to come unto me.' Just give me a moment." He sat back and felt his head. The skin was split at the temple and blood was drenching his face and shirt. He sheathed his guns and crawled to the children, cutting them free. What makes it work: This type of scene helps establish the protagonist’s character. In the example above we see that humans who have become cannibals in Gemmel’s post-apocalyptic world create a righteous anger in the protagonist, and that the protagonist is driven to destroy them without mercy for their evil. In other words, the quick fight serves as a form of character description, not as part of a plot movement. David Gemmel used this technique in several of his works. Why it doesn’t always work: Because it is not central to the plotline, the reader knows with 100% confidence that the protagonist will survive and win, so there is no risk for the reader. While this is generally true of all fight scenes involving the protagonist, it is especially true on a “random encounter” that the reader knows the author will not use to sacrifice his king or queen. Neutral observations: The protagonist almost always suffers a minor wound that will have no bearing later. This is an attempt heighten the low stakes of the battle. |
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