Breaking Down a Literary Fight Scene (FightWrite™)
This month, trained fighter and author Carla Hoch takes a look at a literary fight scene and breaks down why it’s working on the page.
One of the best ways to become better at writing fight scenes is to read great fight scenes. That is exactly what we will do today in this post with FightWrite on the WD blog. We will read a master-crafted fight scene, then we will break it down to see what we can learn from it. Spoiler alert: We can learn a lot. Even better, not only can we learn a lot, what we will learn will mean less work for us as writers.
First, how can reading a great fight scene help us create a great fight scene? It helps in the same way that reading as a whole helps us become better writers. When we read, our brains consider the choices of the author. We examine the author’s writing voice, their pacing, their world-building techniques, how they reveal characters, their form and style. We aren’t just reading. Our brains are soaking up ways to build and reveal a complete story. The same holds true for fight scenes.
And now, for the scene. I have the distinct pleasure of reading East of Eden for the first time in my life. I say have because I’m still reading it. It’s an absolutely beautiful book and it contains a fight scene that will forever be a part of my teaching curriculum. When I said we would read a master-crafted fight scene, I meant it. Steinbeck is nothing less than a master of the craft.
This fight occurs near the beginning of the book. It is a pivotal moment between two characters. I have bolded fight contact:
"Adam made one desperate jump backward and raised his hands to guard his face. His brother moved precisely, each foot planted firmly. One fist lanced delicately to get the range, and then the bitter-frozen work—a hard blow to the stomach, and Adam’s hands dropped; then four punches to the head. Adam felt the bone and gristle of his nose crunch. He raised his hands again and Charles drove at his heart. And all this time Adam looked at his brother as the condemned look hopelessly and puzzled at the executioner.
Suddenly to his own surprise Adam launched a wild, overhand, harmless swing which had neither force nor direction. Charles ducked in and under it and the helpless arm went around his neck. Adam wrapped his arms around his brother and hung close to him, sobbing. He felt the square fists whipping nausea into his stomach and still he held on. Time was slow to him. With his body he felt his brother move sideways to force his legs apart. And he felt the knee come up, past his knees, scraping his thighs, until it crashed against his testicles and flashing white pain ripped and echoed through his body. His arms let go. He bent over and vomited, while the cold killing went on."
There’s another paragraph that follows and finishes out the scene. Fair use laws are tricky though, and, really, what we have here is plenty. We can learn a lot from just this portion.
1. It is simple movement. No part of this fight movement requires a reader to stop reading in order to mentally orient the characters. Any time your reader has to stop reading in order to fully imagine the scene, you run the risk of them not reading further. Keep your reader in the moment.
Another blessing of simple movement is, from a blocking perspective, the follow-up movements tend to be simple as well. You don’t have to worry about your characters’ bodies being oriented in a strange way which can complicate whatever might come next. Simple movement begets simple movement.
2. All of the movement Steinbeck writes could easily be illustrated in a comic book/graphic novel. Why does that matter? It’s writing economy at its best. Now, I know I will have to explain myself. Hear me out.
Comic books and graphic novels are expensive to create. The artists only illustrate what is absolutely necessary to the story. More often than not, what they choose to illustrate tends to be gross motor movement, like the swing of a bat or an explosive moment, like a gun firing.
Gross motor movements and explosive moments are often easier to illustrate and allow for more sensory detail. You can show the impact of the moment by the characters’ expressions and call-out bubbles. You can also see other things in the background such as a storm in the distance or other characters running, which adds to the story. All of that easily translates into writing as well.
That isn’t to a say that a fine-motor movement won’t be illustrated or shouldn’t be written. It is to say that the small movement should be vital to the scene. Small fight movements require more focus in writing because they often require more focus of the character. Trust me, purposely breaking someone’s finger in the course of a fight takes more finesse than punching someone in the face.
No matter how complicated your fight scene, ask yourself: Of all the fight technique on the page, which would be important enough to make it into a comic book/graphic novel panel? Easy to illustrate tends to be easier to write. Easy writing for the author tends to be easy reading for the reader.
3. The action in Steinbeck’s scene isn’t just the striking. When we think of a fight, we tend to think of the moments of impact, or landed punches, which makes sense. We don’t tend to think of fighting as batting the air. Thing is, batting the air happens a lot in the course of a fight. In the average professional boxing match, only about 30 percent of the punches make contact.
There is a lot more happening in a fight than just landed strikes. Strikes that miss, defensive movement, accidental stumbling, momentum of the fray, and more, all play a part in combat. Steinbeck doesn’t rely on the landed strikes to hold up the action of his scene. He uses the action surrounding the fight contact to push the scene forward.
4. Steinbeck’s sensory details make an impact. Sensory details are the bread and butter of every fight scene, and honestly, fights off the page as well. Trust me, a crowd loves the sensations of a fight. If they didn’t, no one would go to a fight in person. The view is much better on one’s couch.
The sensory experience of a fight brings fans of fighting and fans of fight scenes into the scene physically as well as emotionally. Each can hear the smack of fist against skin, see the sweat fly, smell the hormones and blood in the air, hear the coaches in the corner crying out, and taste the briny humidity in the room. We see all of the physical sensations in Steinbeck’s scene. Plus, we feel the anger of Charles in his bitter-frozen work and cold killing. Our stomach’s sink with the helplessness of Adam in his desperate jump, his sobbing and how he looks at his brother with the same puzzlement one looks at his executioner.
5. This scene is a great example of fight scene pacing. Fight scene pacing refers to how close you put the fight moves and what comes between them. I am asked about fight scene pacing quite a bit and I have great news for every writer who struggles with it: I have a formula for you.
In your fight scenes, only write two or three bits of action in a row, then create a break. That break can be dialogue, depth (sensory details), or delineation (visual boundary). There are three pieces of fight action in Steinbeck’s third sentence, but he creates boundaries between them. He places sensory details, as well as punctuation, between the moves. Each of those gives the reader a break between movement.
By the way, we tend to describe fights like this naturally. I talk with training partners all the time about fights. We all give a few bits of movement then back away. “She went in for the takedown and caught a knee to the forehead. And, oh man, it was a gnarly cut. Blood got all over the mat. Then they went to the ground, and the other girl got mount and the finish. It was quick.” What I underlined is fight movement. The rest is breaks.
Go watch any type of sanctioned fight on YouTube. Just a few minutes, that’s all you need. Then pause the fight and tell someone what you saw. Chances are you will tell about two or three bits of action then back out and give some sensory details naturally in your telling.
All that said, there are masters out there who string tons of fight action in a row without giving the reader a breather. Chuck Palahniuk, one of my favorite writers ever, and Orson Scott Card come to mind. You may be one of those masters one day. For now, go with just two or three pieces of action, then add dialogue, depth or delineation.
Writing fight scenes doesn’t have to be a fight. From Steinbeck we have learned that movements don’t have to be complicated. In fact, the less complicated they are the easier the surrounding movement will be to block. We don’t have to depend on fight contact to drive the action of the scene. And when it comes to that fight contact, writing only two or three bits of action in a row is a great place to start. All in all, Steinbeck shows us that less is more and complicated doesn’t equal better.
I hope this makes writing battles and brawls a little easier for you. If you have some favorite fight scenes, especially complicated ones, please send them my way. You can reach me through the contact form on my site, FightWrite.net.
Until the next round with FightWrite on the WD Blog, get blood on your pages.
Carla Hoch is the award-winning blogger of FightWrite® and author of the Writer’s Digest book Fight Write: How to Write Believable Fight Scenes. She is a WDU instructor who regularly teaches on the craft of writing fight scenes, action, and violence as well as the mechanics of fighting for writers. Carla is a world champion jiujitsu player and has experience in almost a dozen fighting styles. She lives and trains outside Houston, Texas.
