Category: Craft

Regarding the craft of writing, writing how-tos, and guidance on the act of writing.

Write That Fight

Fight scenes are an almost essential element in speculative fiction; some people have a natural ability to incorporate these into their writing, while others do their best to write their way around every punch. If you suck at writing these, should you bother trying to improve? I’m glad you asked. Any time you improve on a weakness, you make yourself a better writer. Plus, fight scenes can add so much to the story.

Fight scenes don’t need to be just filler. I’d argue that they shouldn’t be used this way. Unless you’re writing the fighting version of erotica (all fighting, all the time! fightica? fightfic?), in which case, have at it.

Fights in the real world are usually over very quickly and can crop up at random, since life has no plot. This is less satisfying in fiction, where your scenes and words have to serve the story. In addition to duration, fictional fights tend to be more complex than real fights. Even for highly trained individuals, it can be tough to squelch the fight/flight/freeze reflex enough to use your techniques. The physical impact of a fight tends to get glossed over in literature. Many writers only remember to include the bruises, tight muscles, and post adrenaline crash only when it serves the story. It’s a little annoying, actually.

Combat doesn’t show up in all my stories, and it’s critical to know when to include it. Like any other scene, it needs to feel natural, like it occurred on its own and the author is simply documenting it. If you feel the author pulling the strings, there’s something forced about it, maybe in the setup or the execution. Fights shouldn’t randomly crop up out of nowhere, unless, that’s the way the world works in the story, in which case, you should make sure the reader knows it. These scenes work nicely when you need to build or decrease tension. They can provide an active transition from a lull in the story to the next climactic event.

Description can be problematic for some writers. Too little detail makes the fight muddy and hard to follow, which reduces impact. Too much detail bogs down the pacing of the story, reducing the tension and any sense of urgency. Also, it’s boring. Being trained in a form of fighting can make it really easy to over-describe. If this is your tendency, write the scene, then go back and cut as much of the technical stuff you can, streamline the prose as much as possible, and you’ll probably counteract it. I actually recommend against blocking out your fight move for move with action figures, because this makes the process extra complex and tends to result in an excessive detail dump.

If writing a fight is problematic, remember there are times you can get a pass on describing it with something as simple as, “they fought.” Another option, that works very well for many writers, is to describe something other than fight itself. You could focus on the the character’s emotional responses instead of her movements over the course of the fight. You might describe the character’s physical response to being hit and in danger (pain, out of breath, jittery from adrenaline). Another option is to show the onlookers’ reactions to the fight through cheers, applause, gasps, and distancing.

Inaccuracy makes you look like an idiot. You’ll feel like one, too, if it gets pointed out. It can also result in disinterest by casting suspicion on all your other facts. Reviewers might mock you online. But don’t let that keep you from trying. There are lots of ways to prevent inaccuracies. My favorite combination is a little bit of research plus beta readers. They can help figure out if something’s gone wrong, and often help be identify what I need to do to fix it. Sometimes I will walk through a fight scene with a sparring partner, just to get a feel for the movement and space being used. But to avoid the over-description issue, I never write a fight move for move.

If you’re working to polish your skill at writing fight scenes, try different things and see what works for you. This is art, after all, and there’s more than one right way to do it. If you’re stumped how to move forward, ask yourself why the fight scene is there and what you need it to do. This may help you figure out a basic plan of what needs to happen. If there are any stories that have fight scenes you like, reread them. A lot. We can learn things about our own writing from the examples of others. With practice, most of this becomes intuitive.

Let’s Talk Dialogue

Dialogue can be one of the key structural components to a story, and there’s a lot of vague recommendations and misinformation regarding it. This is one of my writing strengths, and I’ve given it a lot of thought while helping other other writers use it effectively.

Purpose
There are a fair number of writers and writing instructors who insist dialogue has only two functions, moving the plot forward or developing the character.  I very strongly argue that this is an oversimplification, and misses several ways dialogue can serve a story.  In addition to these, well-written dialogue can ramp up or defuse tension, develop the world, contribute to description, and break up long narrative passages.

It’s hard to invest in characters and a conflict or argument they’re having, if you don’t see how it starts or how it is perpetuated through the characters’ actions and speech.  How a character speaks tells a lot about how they’re feeling about a situation or another character.  Rather than telling the reader that a character is awkward, nervous, or confident, you can show it with their word choices and the tags that support their speech.  It’s much more satisfying and visceral.

What your characters say to themselves and others tells the reader about the world, about the culture, and about what they are seeing.  The language you choose to use, can tell the reader that the atmosphere is casual or formal.

Quantity
There is no holy grail formula for determining the perfect amount of dialogue for all stories.  There are stories that work perfectly fine with no dialogue, though this is much less likely to work in a novel.  There are excellent stories and chapters that are almost entirely dialogue.  The key is to make sure that the dialogue, or lack thereof, fits the story.  

If what you’ve used provides the story with additional depth, it’s what you need.  If it feels extraneous or leads the story or reader off on undesirable tangents, it needs to be cut or revised.

Placement
Like any writing tool, dialogue needs to fall into the correct place in the story.  Misplaced dialogue is jarring, pulling your reader out of the story.  The content of the dialogue needs to be reasonable, and follow the logic of your characters.  This is something many writers have trouble with. They focus so much on using dialogue to push the plot that they throw in conversations that would never happen where or when they do.  Or they force the dialogue along a path that doesn’t make sense.  While it’s true real conversations don’t always logically go from point A, to point B, to point C, there needs to be some connection, some reason if your character is going to switch from talking about the weather to screaming about past injustices.  If there’s no connection, it feels artificial, and it needs to go.  If the conversation needs to get to a certain point, make sure the writing beforehand, or the internal narration during, lead us there logically.

Language
The language used in your dialogue can tell the reader a lot about the characters and the setting.  Word choices tell us if the characters are comfortable with each other, if they see eye-to-eye, or if they’re nervous.  They show us that the setting is formal or informal through the use of social cues and structure.  The words used by a character can tell the reader about their upbringing or past.  Do they say soda or pop?  Fireflies or lightning bugs.  Some of these are subtle, but all feed into the construction of your character.

Some instructors loathe contractions and insist they don’t belong in dialogue.  They are mistaken.  If the situation is formal, then it’s true your character may not use them.  If the character is not a native speaker of the language, they may not use contractions either. But a native speaker not using contractions when chatting at home or on the phone with their best friend feels stilted and fake.

I recommend caution when using vernacular, or phonetic representation of a dialect or accent.  Mark Twain was a master of this, and most of the rest of us just aren’t.  I’ve read a fantasy series where some characters speak with a Scottish brogue. Despite my familiarity with it, I have to speak the dialogue out loud in order to understand some of what they’re saying. This pulls me out of the story. Patois is perfectly understandable to my ear, but nearly impossible for me to read.  It’s not that this tool is unusable, it just needs to be used cautiously.  One of the reasons Twain was so good at it, was that he dialed the vernacular back, giving just enough to provide the world setting flavor without losing the reader.  

Test It
One of the best ways to determine for yourself if your dialogue is working, is to read it out loud. Does it sound like a real person? Does it sound like something the character would say, or does it sound like another character?  Read the entire story out loud. If the dialogue feels like it’s slowing the story or doesn’t flow, then it’s too long or misplaced.  If it feels natural and moves the story or its architecture (characters, world or plot), then it’s perfect.

Last Thoughts
Like character development, dialogue will add word count and page length. If additional length is a problem, you can truncate or summarize parts of longer conversations, particularly the parts that don’t significantly add to the story.

Character Flaw

Character development is one of the keys to keeping a reader engaged in a story. Believable characters intrigue the reader, move the story along, and provide a guide for the journey. Unbelievable characters can kill a story.

Like most artistic endeavors, there isn’t one right way to go about this, but there are some guidelines that can help you, especially if this is a weak aspect of your writing. A realistic character has to have some flaws, some room to grow, or they quickly become boring and stagnant. There is also the risk that the reader will have no connection to a godlike main character and will therefore not particularly care if she nearly dies while saving the world from destruction. Again. Worse still, are characters who accomplish everything they set out to do, easily and on the first try.

The challenge is to choose flaws that are not too overwhelming, detrimental, disgusting or silly, unless that’s the kind of story you’re telling. You can’t just throw in a bizarre behavior and say, “My character will only drink beer that is darker than her hair. She has a flaw and is therefore believable!” Flaws need to fit the personality of the character. This may seem obvious, but it’s sad how frequently you find characters with flaws that just don’t make sense. If you’re having trouble logically attaching flaws to your character, you may want to take a look at the character’s back story. A character’s history can influence the development of weaknesses and flaws.

If you’re having trouble coming up with realistic flaws, take a look at people you know, and think about the things they do that make you wonder if their head is properly bolted on. Focus on the things they do that are annoying, troublesome, or undesirable. Co-workers and family members are great for flaw farming (just don’t tell them I suggested it).

None of us are perfect, and our flaws are part of who we are. Having your characters defeat their flaws doesn’t need to be the goal of your story; it doesn’t even need to connect to the plot. Having your characters work toward their goals, despite their flaws, can bring them alive on the page. And that’s often what hooks your readers, maintains their interest, and brings them back to your next story.

Casting Call

Without characters you have no story.  They function like objects in English language.  Without them we simply have adjectives and adverbs, and the occasional gerund, verbing about in a field of pretty flowers, or a city, or on a spaceship, or another planet.  Character development can mean the difference between the reader not finishing a story and thoroughly enjoying it.  

The keystone of any character, protagonist, antagonist, primary, secondary, or cameo, is that they feel real.  If your character has the depth of a cardboard cutout, your readers aren’t going to invest in their success, struggle, failure, or demise.  Physical description, personality, speech characteristics, back story, flaws and mannerisms are all elements that help make your character come alive on the page; any of these can be your starting point.

Description
To write good description, you’ll need some sort of picture (mental or otherwise) of the character.  If you don’t know what your character looks like, how will your reader?  Using real people as models can help when you’re in a bind.  If you have a vague idea, try doing an image search online with the characteristics you do know (brown eyed man, tall woman, traditional dreadlocks, etc) and see if you find some people who can help you flesh out your character’s physical appearance.  An image search for animals and mythical beasts can be helpful in the same way if your characters aren’t human.

Personality
Some writers feel compelled to complete complex worksheets and essays prior to starting a story.  If this works for you, it’s definitely an option, but it’s a lot of work, and it’s not necessary for every character.  You want a general feel for your characters’ personalities, but you don’t have to figure out their Meyers-Briggs placement or write lifeboat problem essays from their perspective. In the first draft, it’s a good idea to be somewhat flexible on personalities in case you need to modify things a bit for the story to work.  I find my characters’ personalities develop the more I write them.

Dialogue and Speech
How a character talks can tell the reader a great deal.  Does the character favor any specific words or phrases?  Are they using regional slang, oaths or incantations?  The types of words we choose can color the opinions and biases of the characters we create.  They also hint at the character’s past and give hints about the world. The dialogue of each character should feel like something they would say.  This doesn’t mean you have to make super specific speech patterns for each character, because that’s not how we talk in the real world.  However, you should pick words this character would use, and build their sentence structure to match their personality, education, and background.

Back Story
Believable characters generally do not spring fully-formed from the writer’s head to the paper like Athena from Zeus.  Good characters have experiences that made them who they are at the time of the story. I’m definitely not encouraging you to write a whole detailed novel version of their back story (this only becomes a never-ending backward trip through time), but you should know the basics, and perhaps have some key events in mind.  It’s noticeable when a writer knows more about the character than appears on the page; the story feels richer and the characters are much more dynamic and real. Back story includes everything in the character’s life that happened before they showed up in the story.  A character’s past will influence their fears, hopes, speech patterns, and biases.  Some pieces will be critical to the story, but others will just add flavor.  For most characters, you just need a rough idea of where they’ve come from and why they’re the way they are.

Flaws
Characters who are too perfect are boring.  We can’t relate to them, and their conflicts and victories are dull when compared to characters who make mistakes and have room for growth.  I have a short essay that goes deeper into character flaws, so I won’t belabor it here.

Mannerisms
These are the things that seem small, but add so much to making your characters feel real.  How does this character act when they are excited, sad, or angry?  While some characters may have some of the same reactions, they shouldn’t all respond identically all the time, unless they’re robots.  There are a number of ways your character could fidget to display embarrassment or boredom.  These are the little things you see in your friends and family while waiting at the doctor’s office or riding the bus.  Knee bouncing, hair twirling, nail biting, adjusting glasses, pushing sleeves up and down, lip biting, squinting, and slouching are all examples of things your characters can be doing.  Better yet if these show up in small two to five word additions to dialogue tags or narration.

Once your characters have reached a point where you’re happy with how they feel and look on the page, it’s a good idea to record the essential bits somewhere.  This is especially useful if you’re working on a lengthy series or if you may have to set the story aside for long periods of time.  This cheat sheet can get you back into your characters’ heads, preventing jarring out-of-character actions. While character development is essential to any story, with less verbose versions required for shorter stories, don’t get so carried away that you forget such things as plot, world development, description, dialogue, and voice.  It’s been known to happen, even to the best of us.