Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Rocks fall, everyone dies...

 A lot of my stories spawned from a kind of wish fulfillment, in that I am usually lost in a daydream of some sort, imagining an adventure. And if my brain invents a scenario that really captures my imagination, I take it further and develop its own story.
Because of that, many of the stories that I imagine have plenty of action and fights in them. But when it comes to actually writing that scene, it usually presents a slue of its own problems; pacing, imagery, dynamic twists. They are all need complicated interpretation and explanation to tell you what you would normally just absorb in real life. When writing fight scenes there are much more considerations to control than one first thinks. No one ever just punches someone else in the face, even something so simple is intricately complex in a prosaic narrative.
For instance: If you were to watch two people just duke it out, you would need very little explained. There are so many minutia that the brain picks up and interprets without having to be told. The air between two people explains a context even if neither say anything. Were they two strangers? Friends having a tiff? One feeling betrayed and the other guilty? Both defensive. Are either martially trained? Are they fighting to blow off steam, hurt, or even kill each other? Everything is automatically noted by the audience. The reactions in the postures and body language would tell a whole story.
But for writers, we must assume the audience is blind, deaf, and sadly even dumb. Context, tone, atmosphere, speed, intensity, desperation. If a tooth is broken, you have to explain that. Does spattering visceral matter blind someone? If at the same time as the fight, a person across the room grabs their phone to call the police; you have to mention it somewhere.
It becomes a juggle to fit all of the pertinent details on the page without losing the tension or confusing the reader. And that's with all the stuff that you're intentionally putting in there. But there is always the need for situational cues and setting description. Minor events and chain-reactions often become lost in the tug-of-war in the struggle to follow a chronological step-by-step. Even the most talented writer can sometimes forget to mention the fight moving or scenery settling, like residence clearing the area or by-standers (the important ones anyways) reactions.
Unfortunately additional details clutter up the action. But all that information has to fit in somewhere. Do you stop the whole fight to explain the broader context? Do you make every odd sentence a violent one and every even one situational? Do the fighters halt their combat just so the audience can see what happened to the protagonist's date while they got into a brawl? Where does the line for detail verse drama go?
Sentence structure, and paragraph length are absolutely essential to pacing; which fight scenes live and die by. Someone like myself who strives to wholly immerse their audience in the urgency of the fight, stretch ourselves to examine every single word, sentence by sentence and paragraph by paragraph, to fit in those context clues. But that over-analysis often kills word-count momentum(that is to say total book completion); it's easy to lose the pace of an overall story-arch when we get caught in a fight scene.
In writing it's often necessary to budget: Words per sentence and sentences per paragraph, paragraphs per scene, et cetera. But for fight scenes, those budgets become stringently cheap. Mentioning the color of a shirt, or tears in cloth, or every bead of sweat becomes impossible. You begin having to cut details that seem indispensable. And it becomes tempting to sacrifice the tension in the fight to mention that the world goes on around them. Or even worse the temptation to pretend like the whole world stops while the fight goes on. Both of which are false. 
Fight scenes are similar to adrenaline highs. Sometimes they're necessary, but you get caught in the moment and lose your situational awareness. Then afterwards there's the disunion, the normal story pace feels slow in comparison. In this disjointing, transitions become invaluable for restoring the story's equilibrium. They have to pull the reader back to the story, and readjust the focus. But again, at cost of overall theme and character development. Unless of course the writer is very clever.
If he relies too much on a style focused on confrontation to pull the story along, he will give the reader a frenzied but empty feeling, which is off putting, because it often neglects story content. But on the other hand if you too few action sequences in an adventure story, the reader might feel cheated.
That may be why many modern writers stay away from action driven stories. Or why terrible books are so common. So next time you read a compelling story with an excellent fight scene; take a moment and appreciate how much effort and skill went into it.

Journal:
Adam walked down the dusky road, a small bag slung over his shoulder; necessities for living. He would not starve or freeze for a good long time. He walked at an easy pace, no where to be, no where to go; neither leaving or returning. He was dust, or wind. Driven by any force or will, because he had none. No purpose, no desire, and for the first time in his life he was absolutely free and in that moment he felt pure, uninhibited despair.

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