Things That I Like: Some ways to draw out a fight scene

This article originally appeared at The Oak Wheel on March 13, 2014. 

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In my last post on the Oak Wheel I established a problem with fight scenes, namely that the longer they are the more unrealistic they become. Like any good problem it’s a solvable one, and I’d like to suggest some possibilities. A lot of these will draw on examples from my own writing because, after all, other people may know us better than we know ourselves but we don’t know anybody better than we know ourselves (at least, we shouldn’t, but luminosity is a discussion for another day). I don’t expect all of them to be immediately applicable to your story but hopefully they should be able to give you some ideas.

There are a few different things that I’ve done. The first one is make both parties very, very skilled but just as lucky. This is very contrived, and I don’t think that I’ve ever managed to do it well, but in the right hands I think it’s possible. I don’t think that it’d be possible to do more than once a decade, let alone more than once a book, though.

Another possibility is disregarding some of the other shortness advice and zeroing in on every detail. Second to second, what is being felt, physically and mentally? Give us the panic, give us the adrenaline, give us the waves of pain from a broken rib, and the will that keeps someone moving despite internal bleeding. Lavish us with it as if we’re watching the scene in bullet time with an MMA commentator. Take the sensory detail and stab us in the heart with it.

It won’t work every time, but it’s possible.

For SF writers there are a few more options. In one story, maybe i’m just tired, people like the main character couldn’t die until they lost the mental strength to keep regenerating. Battles between such beings were long, hard slogs that were as psychological as they were physical, fought with the intent to stab, crush, beat, and chop the limbs off your opponent until the pain and the effort of regenerating were too great to summon the strength to heal themselves anymore. In fact, pure psychological attacks (such as when another character was taunted about her mother’s death, which she hadn’t known about until then) could be as deadly as anything else if they made it harder for your opponent to find the mental strength to keep going.

Similar to this, The Buddha on the Road features characters who, by dint of being zombies, are trying to make each other nonfunctional rather than, um, dead. Brain trauma matters to them as little as torn jugular veins (well, maybe a little bit more, but not by much), so the intent of each one is to take the other guy down into so many pieces that he’s no longer a threat. Both of these ideas are pretty similar to each other (i.e. characters with superhuman toughness) but the details are enough to make them and their fights distinct from each other. Whether you take these mechanics or come up with your own spin on superhuman toughness it should still result in something that smells fresh.

Fighting on some other plane is also great stuff. In Lost Girl the actual physical combat is presented but ultimately takes a backseat to the real conflict being fought between the two characters as they wield a kind of story magic against each other. Each one of them was trying to fit themselves and the other character into a particular archetypal story where their victory was inevitable, nay, required, and drew on incidental details to force the other character to fit the role that had been chosen for them.

This brings up magic in general. Perhaps there are enchantments at work which must be penetrated or used up before anyone can actually be hurt. Something like a mix of this and maybe i’m just tired was done in Her Body Moves, whose characters benefited from a regeneration system that can be overtaxed by suffering too much over too small a span of time. Or they have but one weakness which must be exploited in order to kill them (remember, one of the reasons that real fights end so quickly is because there are so many ways to kill a person).

Before you start to figure out how to justify a long fight scene, though, make sure that you should. Is it something that you can write well? Do you even need it? Many times the tension in the build-up to the fight, and even the aftermath, can be more interesting than the fight itself. Like everything else, you should only bother with a long fight scene when it’s going to serve the story to begin with. And most importantly of all, don’t forget the implications: Your justification, whether it could only exist in a fantasy novel or actually does have some realism to it, will undoubtedly have an effect on the rest of the story and its world. Even zeroing in and slowing down, as described in the third paragraph, will at least have an effect on the style of the rest of the story, which needs to be one that this technique can reasonably fit into and complement.

Your turn: How do you handle action scenes?

R. Donald James Gauvreau works an assortment of odd jobs, most involving batteries. He has recently finished a guide to comparative mythology for worldbuilders, available here for free. He also maintains a blog at White Marble Block, where he regularly posts story ideas and free fiction.