Samples of fighting scene?

Status
Not open for further replies.

Yukinara

The Exile
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Mar 13, 2012
Messages
255
Reaction score
15
I'm trying to write fighting scenes and find it really hard. Like, when 2 men exchanging blows with each other, I don't know how to express that without repetition. Can you suggest me some books which has good fighting scenes? I need sword fight (very important), hand fight and gun fight. I tried The Princess bride, the scene is really good. I also read The Bourne Identity but there are not many fight scenes. I want to look for as many samples as possible to see how other authors do it.
 

job

In the end, it's just you and the manuscript
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jun 27, 2005
Messages
3,459
Reaction score
653
Website
www.joannabourne.com
I can give you a snippet, for what it's worth.

My goal, in writing a fight scene, is to catch the POV character's reaction, rather than the details of fighting.

I'm telling story with this fight action. Story is inside it, not just in the lead up and the result. The story is not the fighting (though fighting might be the whole point in another sort of book.) Story is why the action is important to the POV character.

Technique includes short, easy sentences and lots of Germanic-origin words. Lots of white space. Not getting bogged down in description. And, of course, the POV character thinks and acts like himself all through the action.
In this passage below, I pull out all the deep POV tricks btw.

(This is Sebastian's POV)
***

"Behind you! Sebastian!" Adrian's shout.

He saw them then. Silent as beetles, two men scuttled toward him.

More followed, slipping from doorways and corners. Under cover of the rain and fog, the pack had stalked in, unseen, converging from three directions. They were Irish, from the Gaelic they tossed back and forth. They carried knives and clubs and chains. These were vermin from the dockside, deadly and cold as ice.* They'd sent the girl as a honey pot to hold him while the gang closed in. She'd smiled at him while she was planning to watch him die. **

"Run from me." He let her loose. "Run fast."

But she backed away, wide eyed, breathing hard.*** "How? Nobody knows I'm here." That was shock in her voice and fear. She turned in a circle, looking for a hole in the net closing round them. And he knew she was no part of this. No decoy.

"More of them down that way. A baker's dozen." Adrian dropped out of the fog, into his usual place, taking the left. They were two against that many. Long odds.

He picked a target--one in front, where his friends would see him die--and threw.^ The bravo collapsed with a sucking, bubbling neck wound. The familiar stink of death rose in the alley. He pulled his second knife.

The thugs hesitated, sending glances back and forth, fingering blade and cudgel. Attack or retreat. It could go either way.

Then one man broke ranks and lunged for the girl.

She was fast as a little cat. He'd give her that. Cat quick, writhing, she bit the filthy arm that held her and knocked a knife aside and wrenched loose. She skipped back, clutching a long shallow cut on her forearm. "Not hurt. I'm not hurt."

No tears, no screams. Pluck to the backbone. She was also damnably in his way. He shoved her behind him, between him and Adrian. Protected as she could be.

If this lasts long, she'll get killed
. "Mine on the right." He threw and his blade hit badly and glanced off a collar bone. ^^ One man down. One wounded. That would have been two dead if he'd had the sense to stay sober. "Waste of a knife. Damn."

His last knife was in his boot. Not for throwing. This one was for killing up close.

He forced his mind to the pattern the attackers wove, trying to spot the leader. Kill the leader and the others might scatter. Adrian danced a path through the bullyboys, breaking bones with that lead-weighted cane of his. ^^^

No way to get the woman to safety. She stayed in his shadow, using him as a shield, white-faced. She's been in street fights before.

Then he didn't think about her at all. Chain whistled past. He grabbed it and jerked the man off balance and drove his knife through a gap in the leather waistcoat, up under the breastbone, to the heart.

For an instant he stood locked, face to face, with the man he'd just killed--a thickset red-head with pale skin and vicious, gleeful, mad blue eyes. Outrage and disbelief pulsed out at him . . . and drained away. The eyes went blank.

Then the dead bastard thrashed, rolled with the knife, and took it down with him as he fell.

No time to get it back. A crowbar cracked down on his shoulder with a bright, sour, copper pain. He fell, dodged a boot, and rolled away as Adrian took down his attacker.

The girl screamed.

Up. He had to get up. He was on his feet, shaking his head, trying to see through a black haze. The girl was stretched between two men, being dragged away. He staggered through madness and confusion, fog and pain. Adrian was swearing a blue streak.

Under the chaos, he heard a monstrous racket of wheels on cobblestone. A goods wagon rounded the corner.

The girl tore loose, leaving her cloak behind. She reeled straight into the path of the horses and slipped on wet cobbles. She had a split second to look up and see hooves. Her face was a mask of raw terror.

He launched himself toward her. Too late. He knew he'd be too late.
The driver wrenched on the reins. Horses reared and squealed.

Frantic, she jack-knifed away from the striking hooves. She was so close to scrambling to safety . . .

She slipped on the rain-slick cobbles. The wagon skidded. Iron rims shrieked on the stone. The wheel hit the side of her head with a soft, horrible thud. She whipped around, and wavered upright for an instant, and slumped to the dirty stones of the street.

Gaelic broke out. Shouts back and forth. Limping, dragging their wounded with them, the gang retreated.

He stepped over a body and ran to the girl.

She lay huddled on her side, as if sleeping, covered with blood and mud, her pretty dress torn halfway off her. Her hand lay upcurled on the cobbles, open to the falling rain.

******

* We've done a description of the alley a good ways before this. Now we do a sketch of description of the oncoming villains. During the actual fight sequence, we don't need to talk about the setting or the combatants.

** This fight scene serves several story purposes. One purpose is to show the woman is honest. In the fight scene we travel from Sebsatian suspecting her to Sebastian admiring her.
The fight scene is also a transformation scene. It reveals character. Important stuff happens that could only happen under this sort of challenge.

*** fight scene is not just blows and weapons. It's facial expression and body reaction.

^ We don't say, 'Sebastian is a skilled fighter'. We show him planning and thinking like a skilled fighter.

^^ The fight is not about skilled moves, perfectly executed. It's about one klutz screwup after another.

^^^ My fight scenes are wordy and internalized, rather than fast, brutal and explicit. What suits my purposes will likely not suit yours. So you want to compare the flavor and technique of many styles of fight scenes.


The POV tricks include

-- Internal Monologue: If this lasts long, she'll get killed.

-- Self-directed comments that do not quite become Internal Monologue: No time to get it back; Up. He had to get up; Too late. He knew he'd be too late.

-- Specialized knowledge only the POV character can have: Adrian dropped out of the fog, into his usual place, taking the left.

-- Word choice that sounds like the POV character talking: fast as a little cat; damnably in his way; pluck to the backbone; the dead bastard thrashed.

-- Decision by the POV character, provided without buffer: He picked a target; he threw

-- Judgement and assessment made by the POV character: That would have been two dead if he'd had the sense to stay sober; Kill the leader and the others might scatter.

-- Sensation is POV-directed and POV-immediate: he stood locked, face to face, with the man; disbelief pulsed out at him; a bright, sour, copper pain.
 
Last edited:

Bufty

Where have the last ten years gone?
Kind Benefactor
Super Member
Registered
Joined
May 9, 2005
Messages
16,768
Reaction score
4,663
Location
Scotland
Loved it.

I must keep in mind your initial comments and reconsider my approach to my own fight scenes. Thank you.
 

Old Hack

Such a nasty woman
Super Moderator
Absolute Sage
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jun 12, 2005
Messages
22,454
Reaction score
4,956
Location
In chaos
Read Elizabeth Chadwick's books about the Marshal family. They're unexpectedly wonderful.
 

swvaughn

adrift
Super Member
Registered
Joined
May 17, 2006
Messages
2,037
Reaction score
593
Brilliant scene, Jo! :D

Just as another type of example, I will presumptuously share a sample of a modern-day fight scene (this is underground, no-rules stuff).

Like Jo's, it also stays in one POV and uses short sentences and white space.

--------------
Dimly aware of the hush that befell the crowd, Gabriel faced his opponent and waited. He would let Eddie make the first move.

Don’t lose don’t lose don’t lose.

The announcer retreated with an appreciative wink. The buzzer sounded.

Eddie moved.

Gabriel jerked back, aside. The blow meant for his jaw whizzed by in a blur of knuckles. From the corner of his eye, he saw his opponent’s other arm begin an upward trajectory. He ducked this time, and felt his hair ruffle with the force of it.

Drop to the floor. Roll clear, stand. Don't let him connect. Draw it out.

Eddie charged with a roar like a bull. Gabriel sidestepped, whirled to face him. His opponent lunged. He avoided one flying fist, only to collide with another.

The blow glanced off his ribcage, a sharp sting fading fast. In front of him, Eddie grinned and jabbed again at his midsection.

Block. Shove away. Back off.

Avoidance was simple, but it couldn’t last forever. The crowd wanted action. They came for blood. Minutes passed with no contact, and Gabriel felt pressure emanating from all sides, a nearly audible chant: punch-kick-strike-hurt.

Gabriel went on the offensive. He lashed out, aiming for his opponent’s gut. Eddie proved equally effective at defense, and Gabriel’s fist met a meaty forearm. He tried again with both hands—one-two, Sol’s technique—and this time connected.

Felt like punching flesh-covered steel.
 

FOTSGreg

Today is your last day.
Super Member
Registered
Joined
Jun 5, 2007
Messages
7,760
Reaction score
947
Location
A land where FTL travel is possible and horrible t
Website
Www.fire-on-the-suns.com
Here's an old example from one of my WIPs,

"The man moved, damned fast. So fast that Max nearly missed seeing it. Max’s body seemed to react on its own, without conscious thought. He slid to his right, opposite to the direction he had been circling as the man rushed him. Max’s vision blurred as the battle resumed.

The man threw a block with his left hand, tried to hook Max’s left leg with his own, trying to throw him to the ground. Max turned forward and to his right, slapping his left hand against the middle of his opponent’s back as he slid past. The blow caught his opponent between his shoulder blades. Max felt the body armor beneath the man’s uniform flex inwards."

Also, here's a link to a website that discusses writing fight scenes,

http://www.superheronation.com/2008...-sizzling-fight-scenes-superhero-and-fantasy/

and

http://killzoneauthors.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-to-write-action-scenes.html
 
Last edited:

Debbie V

Mentoring Myself and Others
Super Member
Registered
Joined
May 29, 2010
Messages
3,138
Reaction score
290
Location
New York
I wrote a sword fight as pure metaphor. I don't know a darned thing about sword fights, but there is sound and flashes of light. To be fair, the whole thing takes place in the main character's imagination. It worked for this MG contemporary (Note the scene is imagined). For my YA fantasy, it wouldn't. Dark Star’s sword crashed against Bright Star’s. “I am evil.”
Bright Star’s sword replied, “I am good.”
“I am pain.”
“I am comfort.”
“I am fear.”
“I am hope.”
“I am hatred.”
“I am love.”
The blows fell hard from both sides. The sound of one sword melded with the sound of the other. They shared a voice.
“I am deceit.”
“I am truth.”
“I am death.”
 
Status
Not open for further replies.