Writing Fight Scenes
The way I see it, writing fight scenes is a lot like writing sex scenes. I don’t focus on the mechanics of it; after all, there are only so many ways to write “insert Y into X,” “remove Y from X,” “reinsert Y into X,” and so forth.
​
Before & After the Fight
The best fight (and sex) scenes focus on the characters’ feelings and emotions before the action and/or the aftereffects. Below is an excerpt from my novel on a fight scene that had four paragraphs just before the action, and a single paragraph describing the action:
​
I researched Sam’s opponent, but there wasn’t much public information about her besides a few Facebook pictures of her partying in Thailand. I watched Sam’s opponent as she practiced shadowboxing with her coach.
​
“She fights southpaw,” I whispered to Sam as I wrapped her hands. “Remember to keep circling to her right side.”
The referee called up the fighters. I tapped Sam’s mouthguard on her boxing gloves nine times for luck. The number nine sounds like moving forward in Thai and is considered the luckiest number in Thailand. Then, I shoved Sam’s mouthguard into her mouth. I felt her tongue on my fingers. Her tongue was a gentle, caressing electrical shock. I blinked hard to clear the thoughts in my head.
“You’ve got this.” I touched my forehead against Sam’s. She climbed into the ring. When Sam was out of earshot, I whispered, “I love you.”
At the ring of the bell, Sam transformed into a graceful dancer of the combat arts. Executing a roundhouse kick, her hip, thigh, and shin formed the crest of a tsunami, crashing into her opponent’s midsection. In a movement barely perceptible to the human eye, she burst in, and her elbow slammed into her opponent’s face like a battering ram.
​
Inspiration from dance scenes
There are many similarities between a fight and a dance (and sometimes sex). I have found inspiration from descriptions of dances when writing fight scenes. Of course, the opposite is also true. Below is an excerpt of a sexy dance scene inspired by my fight scenes:
​
That night, Chirawan and I celebrated my victory at a nightclub. Amidst the thrumming rhythm of electronic dance music, artificial fog, and laser lights, a small circle of people formed around us as Chirawan and I performed a dance based on free-flowing Muay Thai moves.
​
We took turns bobbing, weaving, and ducking as the other fired punches and high kicks. Rivers of sweat ran down Chirawan’s glistening body, her hair matted to her face and shoulders. With footwork that would make any Nak Muay proud, Chirawan side-stepped and pivoted to the back of me as I threw a jab. She grabbed me by the waist, pulling me roughly against her—a move that was illegal in Muay Thai, a move that felt so good that it ought to be illegal in real life. The crush of her breasts against my back squeezed the sweat from our saturated t-shirts, creating a mini-torrent of wetness that ran down my back to my thighs. Chirawan spun me around, creating an opening in her defence, which allowed me to trap her in a “Muay Thai plum” (a clinch where I placed my forearms against her clavicle and cupped the back of her head in my palms). Instead of fighting back, Chirawan moved towards me, pressing her body against mine. I smelled the heat emanating from her. I was falling, drowning, in a sexual haze. I pushed her off and fired off another roundhouse kick before I lost control of myself.
Use of Humour
Depending on the tone of your story, introducing humour can also be a great way to liven up a fight scene. Below is an excerpt of a scene of two women well trained in Muay Thai fighting off three men:
​
Seeing the men up close, I realized there were actually three-and-a-half of them. Two of them (the sidekicks) were normal-sized human males. One had powder blue hair, while the other wore a red leather vest. They reminded me of Thing 1 and Thing 2 in their own unique ways. The third man (the boss) was approximately the size of one-and-a-half man. He made up for his lack of height with his expansive width and depth. His shoulders and biceps looked like two meat watermelons. His silver polyester tank top was so tautly stretched by his slabs of torso meat that it looked like a ripe pimple ready to burst.
​
Anya and I were surrounded by He-Man and Thing 1 and Thing 2. There were two of us and only three and a half of them. These men were going to be royally screwed if they tried anything funny. He-Man said something to us in Portuguese. We didn’t need to know what he said—Anya’s response would have been the same—“Fuck off!”
​
“Oh, you speak English.” He-Man moved closer. “Oh, twins! I hear twins love to practice kissing with each other. Show us a kiss.”
​
Anya tried to push He-Man away, but he grabbed her wrist. With her free hand, Anya shoved He-Man’s head upward and backward by jamming her index finger up his nostril, so deep in that she must have felt the back of his eyeball. He-Man made a gurgling sound. I moved into a fighting stance. Anya and I were about to give He-Man and Things 1 and 2 a free lesson in Muay Thai.
​
Tell me about your fight scenes
Do you have any other tips on writing fight scenes? If so, please drop me a message. I'd love to hear from you.