How to Create Captivating Action Scenes: Part 2
by Austin Wright
Flow of a Fight
In last week’s installment on action scenes, we discussed the impact of structure when depicting conflict. The next step is to make our fight scenes cohesive. Weaving together seamless conflict requires two things: descriptive balance and flow. These are the most essential cogs of the action machine. There are other tools which embellish conflict, but without descriptive balance and flow to center them, they are just rambling white-noise.
Descriptive Balance
Descriptive balance is walking the tightrope between over-embellishment and documentation. Over-embellishment is the more common mistake. Most writers are itching to write that white-knuckle, edge-of-your-seat scene. After weeks or months of waiting, they finally describe the big action set-piece as vividly as it has lived in their mind’s eye… falling right into the trap of over-embellishment. The conflict is written in such exhaustive detail that the descriptions hamper the action rather than highlight it.
Take the example below:
The echoing rings bounced from one ash-covered stone wall to the next until they melded together into a cacophonous symphony. Smirking, Baron stepped left, his serf-polished boot raising a faint puff of dust as its black leather landed in preparation for another swing from his velvet covered arm. The clouds above blew in the weakening wind as Darion moved to parry.
Get. To. The. Point. The irrelevant descriptions kill all momentum. The clouds and wind contribute nothing to the scene. Baron’s servant-made boots and rich clothes establish his wealth, but by the time of conflict, that is likely already known. The detail is therefore redundant. It only serves to distract from the focal point of the scene: the action.
Don’t misunderstand; description is vital. However, it should be reserved for items important to the conflict or used for emphasis. The location should be well established before the conflict begins, which places the environment in the back of the reader’s mind before shifting focus to the action. When elements of the environment are recalled, it can now be done briefly for emphasis. This allows a quick return to the fight and avoids derailing it with superfluous descriptions. Consider a rework of the previous scene.
Baron waited for Darion in the heart of the latter’s burned down home. The abandoned courtyard was coated in ash from the floor to the walls. Both men drew their swords as Darion closed the distance. Baron smirked. Furious, Darion slashed at Baron’s waist. The crystal weapons pealed across the courtyard as Baron parried with a downward blade. Darion leapt back as Baron swung savagely at his knees. Baron smirked again as he dragged his boot across the ground, kicking up the cremated ashes of Darion’s lost family.
Most of the scene-setting has moved to the first two sentences before the action begins. The detail of the blades pealing highlights the action itself and doesn’t distract from the fighting. The brief recall to the dust ties into Baron’s taunting and highlights a new detail that would seem heavy-handed if done at the introduction. Brevity is allowed since the ashes were introduced previously. Thus, the audience can quickly leap right back into the conflict.
Flow
A reader can now get through our action scene without being sidetracked, but a good writer should notice that the scene doesn’t have much flow. It reads as a series of disconnected moves. How did Baron go from being locked in a parry to swinging at Darion’s knees? How does Baron have enough time and space to draw a taunting line in the ash? These gaps in flow hold action scenes back.
Most action should be a choreography, with each character flowing from one move to the next. By showing the combatants’ transitional moves, the author weaves the action into a tight-knit unit. The audience remains caught up in the conflict, rather than pausing to figure out how a character physically pulled something off. Let’s consider a further revision of the sword fight.
Baron waited for Darion in the heart of the latter’s burned down home. The abandoned courtyard was coated in ash from the floor to the four walls. Both men drew their swords as Darion closed the distance. Baron smirked. Furious, Darion slashed at Baron’s waist. The crystal weapons pealed across the courtyard as Baron parried with a downward blade before thrusting both swords above their heads. Arcing his own weapon back down, Baron swung at Darion’s knees. Darion leapt back. Flourishing his blade between them, Baron smirked again as he dragged his boot across the ground, kicking up the ashes of Darion’s lost family.
The reader now gets a much fuller vision of the action playing out. Crafting these transitions also has an added benefit of flushing out character details. Anybody can swing a sword or shoot a gun, but what they do between those moves reveals their level of expertise. Baron “arcs” and “flourishes” his blade, descriptors indicating nobility and practice.
How does one capture this flow? The answer is simple, act it out. Is the protagonist locked in a sword fight? Use a broom as a cutlass. Is the main character in a wizard’s duel? Use a drumstick for a wand. Miming fight scenes from the perspective of all parties allows the writer to tell what moves and countermoves are available at a given moment.
As with structure, flow should always serve the story. The transitions described above do not complement all cases. If a fight is intended to be drawn out, stripping away transitions can leave the impression that the reader is only seeing important highlights. Thus, the scene avoids overstaying its welcome. Always consider a scene’s desired impression before making a decision on flow.
Structure and flow. If implemented well, the reader will never notice them. Yet, under the surface, you have kept the audience engaged and hungry for what’s next.
