Mary Rosenblum, your web editor, has published three Science Fiction novels, four mysteries, and more than 50 short stories in multiple genres, as well as nonfiction! She also teaches writing, and has for many years.  Her story “Skin Deep’ appears in the October/November issue of Asimov’s Magazine.  

 

 

 

 

Writing the Action Scene

By Mary Rosenblum

 

 

          A sword fight, car chase, battle…these action scenes provide that roller coaster drama that brings readers to the edges of their seats.   So what makes a good action scene?  How do you bring those readers to the edges of their chairs?  Or will does it matter?  Will just any car chase do?

 

Mimic Reality

 

            The fact that your protagonist is fighting for her life with a sword, or he’s careening through downtown San Francisco in a stolen car isn’t really enough to make your scene compelling.  It is remarkably easy to write an action scene that will lull your reader gently to sleep.  Not a good thing to do.  The way to really make that action come alive is to mimic reality.

 

            No, that does not mean you need to rent a car under an assumed name and race through downtown San Francisco at top speed, scattering pedestrians and knocking over vendors’ carts!  Far from it.  Few writers have lived the action their characters experience.  Few readers have fought with swords, charged up a hill in the thick of battle, or whitewatered through a raging torrent.  That won’t stop you from making it seem real.  A small amount of research will net you personal accounts by soldiers, analyses of battle tactics, a street map or internet video of downtown San Francisco streets, or a history of period swords and a primer on fencing and swordplay. No, that research won’t bring your scene to life, but it will give it the verisimilitude needed to help the reader believe in that scene.

 

The Breath of Life

 

            So how do you transform a couple of articles on fencing and a text on medieval clothing and weaponry into a realistic fight scene?  How do you make those fighters come to life?    The reality that you mimic is not one of your experience.  Instead, you mimic the reality of human perception.  Remember that we are in a character’s Point of View, whether the story is written in first person or third.  If we experience that action through the character’s senses, the boundary between character and reader weakens and we begin to feel as if we are fighting the evil duke, or chasing the murderer through the Marina district in San Francisco.  You simply write the scene as your character perceives it.  Think about what is going on in your head in a situation of intense physical action.  Let’s say you witness a car wreck.  A child is trapped inside and at any second, the car may burst into flames.  What do you see as you struggle to save the child?  Do you notice the lush pine forest on either side of the road? Do you smile at the robin’s morning song, and savor the murmur of the breeze through the pines’ long needles?  Probably not.  Mostly likely you are focused on that car door you are struggling to open, breathing the reek of spilled gas, terrified of the spark that will set it off. You see the child’s frightened face through the shattered glass of the window and hear the groan of the sprung door as you finally wrench it free.   Those narrative details of bird song, long pine needles, and lush forest are pretty and add to the scene….but they are the details we’d notice on a leisurely evening stroll through the forest.  Don’t forget, our ‘hind brain’ is ever alert for paradoxes when we read.  Wait a minute it whispers in our ears.  She can’t really be in danger if she has time to notice all those pretty details.   And we stop believing that our POV character is really in danger at all. 

 

            In situations of danger and stress, we tend to achieve a sort of ‘tunnel vision’.  Our awareness of the surroundings narrows to focus on those things around us that may help us or hinder us.  If the character is fleeing a charging grizzley, she may notice the log that might trip her, a path wide enough for her to run fast on, or a tree with low branches she can climb.  She will not notice the lady’s slippers blooming in the shade of the huge spruce tree or the blue, cloudless sky overhead. Save those details for a pleasant stroll!

 

 

Let’s Take a Look

 

            Let’s look at an action scene: 

 

            Jemmy risked a glance over his shoulder as autumn leaves skittered across the asphalt street.  The long, dark car was still following him, closer now, the driver intent over the wheel, his passenger a dark shadow beside him.   Trying not to panic, Jemmy stood up on the pedals, pumping hard, whizzing down the empty midnight street, streetlight splash glinting on the handlebars and illuminating the pale bulk of the houses on the block.  An owl ghosted across in front of him and a moment later, a mouse shrieked.  Uh oh.  Empty lot ahead.  He heard the car speed up, engine roaring as the driver floored it.  They must know about the empty lot, too.  He grabbed the brake levers, bike slewing, skidding on the asphalt, nearly went down as the wheel hit the curb.  The bike bounded into the air, hit hard, probably ruining his new tires.  He wrenched it upright and stomped on the pedals, tornadoing up Berryman’s driveway, ducked the clothesline, good, hit the patio pavers, bounced, nearly went over again, along the pool on cement now, really pumping. Mrs. Berryman would be furious if she ever found out who had left bike tracks in her precious turf.   Heard door slam, footsteps. Did they have guns? Would they shoot him?  Wouldn’t everybody wake up?  Maybe they had silencers.  The gate was open, maybe he’d make it.  He put his head down and something smacked into the gate.  Wood splinters stung his face and then he was out in the driveway, pumping to beat all, down the alley and then the shortcut through Miller’s lot. There wasn’t anything there to hit or that might puncture his tires.  The shortcut would take him out onto Oak Street and from there, he only had to go one more block to reach the riverbank.   He’d make the culvert and safety before they could get around the block. 

 

            Here we have Jemmy clearly running away from some bad guys in a car.  And clearly they are ready to kill him.  Now this is merely an action scene lifted out of context, so there’s a lot we don’t know.  But think about the pacing.  Did it move fast?  Do you have a sense of this kid’s fear, his adrenalin-fueled flight?  Yes, there’s plenty of action.  But let’s look at the scene again, with a bit more attention to action.

 

 

Jemmy risked a glance over his shoulder.  The car was still following him, closer now.   Trying not to panic, Jemmy stood up on the pedals, pumping hard, whizzing down the empty midnight street, streetlight splash glinting on the handlebars.  Uh oh.  Empty lot ahead.  He heard the car speed up, engine roaring.  He grabbed the brake levers, bike slewing, skidding on the asphalt, nearly went down as the wheel hit the curb.  The bike bounded into the air, hit hard.  He wrenched it upright and stomped on the pedals, tornadoing up Berryman’s driveway, duck the clothesline, good, hit the patio pavers, bounced, nearly went over again, along the pool on cement now, really pumping.  Heard door slam, footsteps. Did they have guns?  The gate was open, maybe he’d make it.  He put his head down and something smacked into the gate.  Wood splinters stung his face and then he was out in the driveway, pumping to beat all, down the alley and then the shortcut through Miller’s lot.  He’d make the culvert and safety before they could get around the block. 

 

            So what is different here?  We have less information, less awareness of what is going on, what is outside Jemmy’s immediate focus.  You might actually prefer the first version because it includes more information, but don’t forget, in the context of the story, we have plenty of time for that information while Jemmy pants and hides in the culvert.  What this second version does is eliminate anything that a terrified kid pursued by killers is not going to see, think, or hear.  Below, you’ll find the details that have been removed highlighted in blue.

 

Jemmy risked a glance over his shoulder as autumn leaves skittered across the asphalt street.  The long, dark car was still following him, closer now, the driver intent over the wheel, his passenger a dark shadow beside him.   Trying not to panic, Jemmy stood up on the pedals, pumping hard, whizzing down the empty midnight street, streetlight splash glinting on the handlebars and illuminating the pale bulk of the houses on the block.  An owl ghosted across in front of him and a moment later, a mouse shrieked.  Uh oh.  Empty lot ahead.  He heard the car speed up, engine roaring as the driver floored it.  They must know about the empty lot, too.  He grabbed the brake levers, bike slewing, skidding on the asphalt, nearly went down as the wheel hit the curb.  The bike bounded into the air, hit hard, probably ruining his new tires.  He wrenched it upright and stomped on the pedals, tornadoing up Berryman’s driveway, ducked the clothesline, good, hit the patio pavers, bounced, nearly went over again, along the pool on cement now, really pumping. Mrs. Berryman would be furious if she ever found out who had left bike tracks in her precious turf.   Heard door slam, footsteps. Did they have guns? Would they shoot him?  Wouldn’t everybody wake up?  Maybe they had silencers.  The gate was open, maybe he’d make it.  He put his head down and something smacked into the gate.  Wood splinters stung his face and then he was out in the driveway, pumping to beat all, down the alley and then the shortcut through Miller’s lot. There wasn’t anything there to hit or that might puncture his tires.  The shortcut would take him out onto Oak Street and from there, he only had to go one more block to reach the riverbank.   He’d make the culvert and safety before they could get around the block. 

 

            Killers are chasing Jemmy.  Would he notice autumn leaves skittering across the street?  Yes, he might notice that the car is long and dark, but now?  It has been chasing him for awhile, obviously.  He would have noticed its color and shape when he first saw it.  And how long can you look over your shoulder while pedaling top speed and not crash?  The additional details of the driver and passenger…which he also noticed when he first saw the car…drag that momentary glance out to unrealistic lengths.  The houses are there, but Jemmy is too busy keeping that bike ahead of the car to notice them  and he certainly could care less about the owl and its dinner. He is about to die!   Obviously the driver floored it if the engine roared…why say it?   Again, he’s going to die.  What does he care about new tires, Mrs. Berryman’s grass, and how they think they can shoot him.  He can think about all that in the culvert.  Clearly he knows they’re going to do something really awful.  You don’t need to have him wondering what.  He’s way too busy keeping that bike moving to think much.   And he knows Millers lot well if he knows who owns it, so he doesn’t have to think about what is or isn’t there or where he’s going.  He’s busy pedaling like crazy, he knows this town, all he’ll do is keep his head down and go FAST.  But he does think about where he’s headed…the culvert.

 

            This is how you pare an action scene down to nothing but action.  Examine every sentence.  Would your character notice this?  Would she think this?  Does he have time to look over there and see that? Would she even notice?  Once you’ve removed all the ‘fog’ your action scene will tear along, taking your breathless readers with it.  

 

            Next time you write an action scene, go over it afterward and see how many unnecessary details you can remove.  You’ll be surprised at how much power you can give a scene by simply paring it down to action only.