Are you writing a crucial fight scene for your novel that feels uninspiring?

Or perhaps you’ve never been in a donnybrook before, and you’re worried that the mechanics of a pivotal conflict won’t sound ‘right’ in your narrative.

Below are ten easy-to-remember rules that will help you knock some sense into that troublesome fight scene and quickly add credibility to your story.

Why I Focused on this Subject

I encountered a book written by a well-known author that had a terrible fight scene. The brawl was unbelievable, and the way the writer relayed the encounter was horrible—it ruined the rest of the story.

The book was already shaky, so I was about to set it aside. Then the fight scene happened, and I thought, “Does this guy even know what it’s like to get hit in the face?” I quit the book right then.

It got me thinking that most authors haven’t been hit in the face by another human. Mind you, I’m not suggesting we run out and join boxing gyms to add authenticity to our action scenes. Or start something with that weird, drunk guy sitting at the end of the bar.

That’s why we learn from others—to avoid unnecessary stress and conflict. Most of us would also like to avoid a jab in the ol’ honker if possible. 

Why Should You Listen to Me?

I’m not going to brag about the number of street fights I’ve had because I haven’t been in any.

The one schoolyard fight I got into, I lost—badly. But I have had some life experiences that helped me understand a few things about physical conflicts.

First, I used to be a police officer.

That means I rolled around on the ground with a few bad guys. I was only on the force for a handful of years, but it was enough to know what hurts, how long fights really last, and when people quit.

Second, I earned a black belt in Kenpo Karate.

Along that journey, I owned and operated a karate school. That meant plenty of opportunities to get punched, kicked, and elbowed in various parts of my body. I have also punched, kicked, and elbowed others. There’s value in knowing what it feels like to hit and be hit.

Last (and most important for this discussion), I’m a reader.

I know what works and doesn’t work in a written fight scene. When I start skimming through what should be an action-filled moment, I know the author has made a mistake.

So without further delay, here are my fight scene rules.

10 Knockout Rules for Writing Successful Fight Scenes

1.     Remember that most readers have never been in a fight.

Regardless of an author’s experience with fighting, it is unlikely that their readers have been in a brawl.

Most readers have never been punched or kicked by someone intending to do them harm. They won’t understand how an untrained fighter experiences blood pounding in their ears, the narrowing of their vision, or the shallowing of their breath. They won’t understand the absolute chaos of an adrenaline dump or the pounding headache that follows when things deescalate. They also won’t understand how a trained fighter can control those same bodily reactions.

If you’re an author experienced in combat, you should keep the above in mind when crafting a fight scene. It would help if you imagined writing the fight scene for your grandmother. That might seem like extreme advice, but it will help put you in the proper frame of mind as you move forward.

On the flip side, if you’re an author inexperienced in fighting, you should realize that you will occasionally encounter a reader who does understand hand-to-hand combat. Imagine that you’re writing for a critical eye. In other words, the more you write about something you don’t know, the more likely you are to get called out on it. That’s okay, though—I have solutions for you (read on).

2.     Be brief.

Fights may start slowly. They can come to a boil with nasty words followed by pushing and shoving. However, when the brawl erupts, it happens violently and ends quickly.

A stiff jab can render a man unconscious; an uppercut can take him to the moon. Professional boxing and MMA aside, it’s rare that a fight goes for very long.  Boxer Mike Tyson knocked out Marvis Frazier in thirty seconds. UFC fighter Conor McGregor knocked out Jose Aldo in thirteen seconds. Yet neither of those were the fastest knockouts in either sport.

Even a short fight is exhausting. With untrained fighters, a minute will feel like a lifetime.

The longer we write about a fight, the less believable it becomes. Also, the lengthier a description of fisticuffs grows, the more trouble you welcome.

3.     Use general descriptions.

Not every reader knows how to fight, nor are they interested in learning. What they are interested in is a good story told in a convincing manner.

A ‘spinning hook kick to the right side of the head’ might sound neat to the author, but it is convoluted. It reads like the author is showing off…because they are. Above all, it slows down the action, which is another way of saying the description is boring.

Unless the reader already knows what a “hook” kick is then the additional explanation is wasted. I believe most readers won’t understand the modifier, this type of specificity is unwarranted.

The targeted side of the head (right) is only necessary if it is being used to set up additional blocking in the fight scene or a later clue (i.e. the bad guy needs to move to the left, or someone notices a mark on the right side of the bad guy’s head).

Therefore, a ‘spinning kick to the head” is better.

A “kick to the head” is best.

Also, there are two types of strikes—intentional and unintentional—both inflict damage.

Intentional strike: Tom kneed Larry in the testicles.
Unintentional strike: Larry jerked forward and headbutted Tom in the nose.

4.     Understand how badly getting hit hurts.

A single punch can end a fight. It doesn’t matter if it was the first punch thrown or the last. It can knock out teeth, break a jaw, bust a nose, or render a person unconscious. It can also damage the occipital bone and rupture an eye. In extreme cases, it can kill a man.

People don’t fight each other with the intent of holding back. Someone should get messed up, and someone should get bloodied. Brawls are not like the movies where two people tumble from room to room, and nobody gets more than a cut above their brow.

A black eye, cut lip, or abrasions on the face can be easily seen, but aches and stiffness will plague a body for days. Even the winner is likely to suffer.

Hitting a person in the skull is like punching a bowling ball—it will hurt a hand.

5.     Accidents will happen.

In a fight, bodies come together in violent, often uncontrolled ways. The unexpected almost always happens.

Heads knock against each other (inadvertent strikes). Sloppy punches cause sprained wrists. A properly executed punch can result in a broken hand if it hits the wrong target (forehead/crown of the head). People lose their balance because they slip, bump into items in the environment, or simply get their feet twisted up.

A punch to the mouth (teeth) can result in cuts to the hand. “Fight bites” lead to severe swelling and infection.

Most people don’t know how to dance, yet they happily run onto a dance floor and look like Elaine Benes (from Seinfeld). A fight is the same. People don’t know how to fight, yet they believe they do because of the movies they’ve watched. They act over-confident but appear ungainly. Their feet won’t set properly. They will lose their balance. They may stumble, bumble, and fall into things.

6.     All fights go to the ground.

Someone is going to the ground. Usually, it’s the loser. But often, it’s the winner, too.

That’s because if a brawl doesn’t end quickly, both combatants are going down. This has always been the case but now, with the popularity of mixed martial arts competitions, many people have either trained in jiu-jitsu, wrestling, and judo. Or they think they can fight this way because they’ve seen it on Pay-Per-View.

Another thing to consider is scenarios involving more than two combatants. Two-on-one situations don’t mean the odd-man-out stands by and politely waits for his turn to get involved. In real life, the odd man becomes engaged when the fight goes to the ground by kicking or punching the mutual opponent.

If you’re writing a police procedural, cops often take suspects to the ground. If there are two cops, they are actively involved in the takedown. Two versus one always wins.

As a side note, avoid falling prey to the “deli-counter” trope (“Next!”) of one fighter versus many at once.

7.     Stay in the now.

Punch—don’t pontificate.

In a fight, the only thing anyone involved is thinking about is that fight. Everything beyond that moment is inconsequential. Don’t ever leave the moment that a fight occurs to enlighten a reader on a character’s war memories, martial arts training, or some other crap you think is essential. It’s extremely unrealistic—not even trained fighters do this.

A fight is literally a life-or-death moment. Even if it is between brothers, one could fall and hit his head on a concrete stair and die. Keep the reader with the combatants.

All that other stuff that an author deemed necessary for a reader to know should be shown long before the brawl ever started. Once a punch is thrown, it’s game on. It is too late to share that a protagonist once ran a soup kitchen in San Diego where a homeless man taught him how to box.

8.     Think pace.

Pacing is crucial for fight scenes. It’s an action scene, for crying out loud. Tight, brutal fights should not be explained with long, flowery prose. Shorter sentences are a must.

Don’t use five-dollar words. If you’re using a thesaurus to find additional ways to say pontificate, stop. Just use ‘said’ and smartly move on.

Dialogue should be at a minimum. Combatants do not have deep conversations with each other in the middle of a brawl. They’re winded and they’re trying to survive. A private investigator who interrogates a bad guy while in the middle of fight reads hokey.

Fight then talk. Or talk then fight. But never fight and talk.

Internal monologues should only reference the fight itself or the immediate result of losing the battle. A combatant should never have time to ponder what he’s having for dinner or if his girlfriend is about to give birth.

9.     The laws of physics apply.

Unless you’re writing a science fiction novel, you must adhere to the physics of our world.

A 110-pound hero cannot kick a 225-pound attacker flying across the room. He might stagger, lumber, and eventually collapse, but he will not get lifted off the ground and sail through the air like he’s in a Marvel movie.

Be smart. Have a smaller character knock a larger character to the ground with strikes to the lower body. Kick them in the groin to bend them over… then kick them in the head. The smaller character wins that way.

10.  Get creative.

A person can use anything to their advantage while fighting (a brick, a hammer, or a dish). They can also fight anywhere (stairs, garage, or a pier). And they can wear whatever they like (skinny jeans, high heels, or flip-flops). However, you must consider both the advantages and disadvantages of your choices because your readers will. Nothing is out of bounds—only the author’s handling of a choice will be questioned.

In the movies, Jackie Chan is the master at using items in a fight scene. He will hop over, under, and around a table. He will do the same with a chair or a clothing rack. They are wildly entertaining scenes.

We can do the same in our writing, but we must obey the previous nine rules. Don’t let your creativity allow you to verbosely break the laws of physics with a flying sidekick across a rooftop to knock out four men in a single action.

11.  BONUS TIPS:

a.      You cannot drive a person’s nose into their brain. It’s cartilage, and it won’t happen. Don’t even hint at such a thing.

b.     Eyes water when a person is hit in the nose. A hard flick across the tip starts the waterworks. This is an involuntary response and has nothing to do with crying.

c.      Men bend over when they get kicked in the groin. Even a feint to the region can cause that reaction. Most men have been hit there at some time, and they remember the pain. Some martial artists practice getting hit there to ignore the pain, but this will momentarily incapacitate most men.

d.     Watch some combat sports (boxing, MMA, wrestling, etc.)

There’s no substitute for getting hit in the face, and I’m not recommending anyone do it just to improve their written fight scenes. Instead, watch professional fighters. Watch unprofessional ones, too. There are plenty of both types of videos on the internet. Notice how their bodies move when they hit and get hit.

Talk to fight fans about their favorite bout, then research what they said. You can learn a lot by viewing old matches on YouTube. For example, below is a fight that I watched with my dad when I was little.

On March 31, 1980, John Tate defended his heavyweight championship title against Mike Weaver. For fourteen rounds, Tate beat the holy hell out of the challenger. In the final round, Weaver connected a quick left hook with about a minute left. Tate collapsed, and the fight was over. Weaver was now the champion.

I still remember my dad excitedly jumping from his chair. I’ve watched fights through the years with the hope of seeing that type of moment again.

What do you think? Will these rules help you write your next fight scene?
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please leave a comment below.