- Invitation Status
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- One post per week
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- Primarily Prefer Female
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- Fantasy of varying types. Some sci-fi.
Welcome to Fight Club, where the leaders are imaginary and the rules definitely matter. I'm Amateur Person HerziQuerzi, and I'll be your instructor for the evening. Let's get into it.
Right up front, we should get into what can make writing effective combat scenes so difficult. People who excel at physical descriptions and writing actions feel like they should have it down, but end up finding their combat scenes feeling bland and monotone. Meanwhile, people who are talented at imagery and narration and character thoughts create combat scenes where everything feels lost and adrift; narration without a foundation. Why is that? How can combat scenes fail under the pen of both physical-focused and emotional-focused writers? The problem, mon cherie, is that combat scenes, perhaps more than any other type of scene, rely on strong pacing. And not just ramping from slow to fast, or vice versa, but a tidal effect. It needs to ground itself with physical actions while at the same time using emotion based narration to give it meaning. This is what can make combat scenes so damn difficult to write; it takes strength in both of the major types of writing, as well as an understanding of how to use both in harmony.
In general, a combat scene should almost always start off with detailed choreography. A bit of straightforward play-by-play right off the bat does wonders for keeping things grounded. It tells the reader how the different participants prefer to fight (fast+precise strikes; heavy blows; lots of moving around; etc), how those styles interact with each other, and who has the advantage (if any). All of these things make future pan-outs easier for the the reader to fill with their imagination, since they now have a strong framework to build upon. And by the very nature of play-by-play style writing (short sentences focused on physical actions), it helps give things a tenser and more frenetic pace. Appropriate for fight scenes.
Then, once you've done that for a paragraph or two (depending on paragraph length), it becomes safer to pull back a bit. And not just safer, but encouraged. This is where you begin to put the aforementioned tidal pacing into effect. It's at this point that you start referring to what's happening in broad, vague terms. Reducing the actual fight to background noise while you begin to focus on character thoughts, more descriptive/adjective heavy writing, descriptions of what's happening around the fighters (if a larger scale conflict/event is going on), stuff like that. Because, as mentioned above, the framework has been built for the reader, and the vaguer descriptions of the fight are more than enough for the reader to build their own interpretation off of. And additionally, the pacing has already been set, so you can generally ride on that for a bit (and minor swells in pacing (aka a paragraph of mostly short paragraphs followed by a paragraph of more average length sentences) are usually a good thing for setting up a rhythm and keeping the reader engrossed.
However, that momentum will only carry you so far. Every now and then (2-3 paragraphs, depending on length of your paragraphs (note that I recommend narration-heavy sections last a bit longer than action-heavy sections)) you'll need to dip back into play-by-play style. Both to reinforce the framework before it starts to crumble, and also as a way to show progression in the fight. Use these recursions into action-heavy sections to describe one fighter gaining an advantage over the other that wasn't there before. Or for (most) injuries. Or one fighter pulling out some tricksy move (the classic knocking over braziers, flipping tables, stuff like that). Or etc etc. Basically, use defining moments of the fight to seamlessly justify the switch in styles. Once you've done that, you're free to transition back into the pan-out.
Rinse and repeat this sequence for however long you need/want the scene to be, and you're golden. And that's all I have to say on the matter (that I can think of right now, at least). Go forth, and vent violence onto the paper through your pen (insert overused 'mightier than' joke here).
HerziQuerzi out.
(*If this seems familiar to anyone, it's because I posted something very similar in one of the older MISC threads and only recently decided to expand it into a full lesson)
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