Writers in the Storm

by Dr. Alex Jemetta

Part 2: The Facts of a Fight

When facing the daunting task of writing a fight scene, I think that most writers get hung up on the technical details. Research is a common procrastination method for most of us, and having facts and information can help us feel more confident in writing a scene we don’t otherwise feel comfortable writing. It is important to have your facts straight.

However, the truth is that the number of readers who care (and have the technical knowledge to tell) whether your character has their left foot forward when they should have their right foot forward is vanishingly small. I polled my martial arts club to get their opinions on common mistakes in fight scenes and, to my genuine surprise, nearly every single one said that writers get hung up on technical details and forget the experience of a fight.

I can’t tell you exactly what details you specifically need for your fight scene, and if you are writing scene with laser guns (or any guns), I probably can’t help you with details at all. So, let’s talk about what type of details are useful and what aren’t.

Big picture details are the most important. The overarching feeling of a fight is something that is often lost even when the nitty gritty details are correct.

What is and is not physically possible given weapons, armor, etc.

Be careful here because there are a lot of myths floating around. I firmly believed what medieval content creators on youtube said about dual wielding swords being book nonsense (because how on earth can anyone have the dexterity to pull that off?) until I watched someone spar with two swords at once.

What is the rhythm of this type of fight?

A knife fight feels different from a gun slinger show down feels different from a sword fight. Even different swords (saber, rapier, longsword etc.) all operate differently. How long does the fight take to start? Does it start slowly, or does it start with a bang? Is it over in one exchange, or do the opponents retreat and approach multiple times? Does it end with one fatal blow or is it death by a thousand cuts? I strongly recommend watching videos of people sparring or competing with the weapon you want to write about if you can’t watch a competition or performance person. Hollywood does not count.

Be careful with nitty gritty details.

1. Using too many technical terms that your reader doesn’t know can take them out of the scene. This goes for names of techniques and attacks as well as for details of armor and weapons. They don’t want to google what an uberhau or unterhau are. They probably don’t want to google the difference between a long sword, a broad sword, and a side sword either. Most people aren’t up to snuff on the intricate differences between types of swords or guns or polearms; keep this in mind.
2. Describing every single action in detail is going to bog down the pacing and get repetitive. This is a bit like world building in that you, as the author, need to know a lot more than what needs to be on the page.
3. Generally, details like the metallurgical composition of the blade or whether the mail armor is rivetted or butted are wasting valuable space in the middle of a fight scene. Unless it’s directly causing a problem, like the blade bending because it’s iron and not steel, it doesn’t need to be in this scene.

Part 3: The Experience of a Fight

So, if writing a fight scene is less about choreography and more about experience, what is the experience like? How do you, as an author who has never swung a sword or punched someone in a bar, write about that experience? The answer, of course, is research. Read interviews, watch videos, etc. I’ll try to give you a quick start guide here by painting the experience of a fight in broad strokes.

First, the most obvious thing: adrenaline. One of the reasons combat sports are fun is that your body isn’t amazing at distinguishing the difference between sparring and fighting for your life. You get an adrenaline surge every time. This will decrease over time, but it’s always there. If your character’s life is in danger, even if it’s something that happens often, they’ll feel it. Your character’s heart will be racing, their hands may be shaking, etc. Even if they have mental clarity due to experience, they will still have an adrenaline surge.

The second thing to consider are the other bodily experiences. This is a good place to bring in the visceral details that make a good fight scene immersive.

Physical exertion

 In fights where guns (or gun equivalents) aren’t involved, there is going to be a level of physical exertion. Drawing a bow takes strength. Repeatedly swinging a sword takes endurance. Fighting is basically high intensity interval training. Your muscles will get tired, your breathing will get ragged, you will sweat.

Heat

If there is any sort of armor involved (and there probably should be), you are going to be WARM. Wearing gambeson is like exercising in your winter coat, and mail and plate are worse.

Pain

There is probably going to be pain. As my father told me, never draw a knife unless you are prepared to get cut. The likelihood of your hero getting exactly zero injuries in a close quarters fight is low. Injuries are a good way to add complications to your plot. Keep in mind that adrenaline effects how you feel pain; I once got a bronze medal in a long sword competition with a broken thumb, definitely in part due to adrenaline. But it still hurt.

Let’s think about our senses, what is a combatant perceiving?

Sight

It’s very common to hyperfocus on your opponent in a fight and not really see what else you is around, especially if you are not an experienced fighter. However, it will still matter how bright or dark it is. Metal objects (and a lot of weapons and armor are metal) also reflect light, which affects visibility.

Sound

This one is heavily dependent on the details. Battle fields are loud and chaotic. Swords clang when they interact, and the sound can be extremely loud in an enclosed space. I often wear ear plugs when practicing longsword in a small room. Gunshots are louder, loud enough to damage your hearing at close quarters. Helmets and fencing masks muffle sound. People make sounds when they fight: breathing, talking, laughing, and taunting. Bodies also make sounds when they are struck: bones crunching, fits thudding against skin, etc

Smell

People stink when they sweat, and battle fields stink worse. Armor smells, sometimes of sweat but also of oil or whatever else is used to maintain it. Metal on metal strikes of swords on armor have a distinct smell. Smell is one of the most evocative of our senses, don’t forget to use it.

Touch

In fencing, you learn to respond to the sensation of the opponent’s sword against yours. This is because the signal from your hand to your brain is faster than your eye to your brain. You fight by feeling. This sense is largely covered in the section above but also consider the following sensations: the weapon in your hand, armor on your body, sweat running down your skin, your hair in your face, and the heat of someone else’s body against yours.

Taste

This is often neglected and might not be the most relevant in this context, but never say never. The taste of blood due to injury to the mouth or the salt taste of sweat are both reasonable experiences in combat.

What on earth is your character thinking about? This is something that is both character specific and context specific. Here is a list of non-exhaustive suggestions:

The weapon or the opponent

Someone who is an inexperienced fighter or who is facing a new or particularly dangerous weapon is going to focus on the weapon. However, (at least in a sword fight) an experienced fighter is looking at the body of their opponent. Shifts in stance and core/shoulder muscles will give you more warning than the movement of the weapon itself. Whether you are throwing a punch or swinging a sword, the motion involves your whole body.

Distance

There are a lot of distance scales to keep track of in a sword fight (and other styles of combat as well). The most important, as the fight begins, are the distance between you and your opponent, the distance from which you can reach your opponent, and the distance from which your opponent can reach you. These are not, generally speaking, the same (especially if there is a difference in height). Playing with distance using footwork and subtle maneuvering can win a fight right off the bat. These distances depend on the weapons being used, the stance, the type of attack, the reach of the opponent, etc.

Tactics

Combat is rarely about brute force. Brute force and speed won’t get you as far as you might think, at least not against anyone who either knows what they are doing or who has a weapon. The mental/tactical component of fencing is so important that fencing is one of the Olympic sports with the oldest athletes. The average is around 28, but there have been Olympic fencers in their 40s. It’s also one of the few sports where you can start training at 12 or 13 and still make it to the Olympics. It’s like chess. It’s like a dance. For every action there’s a reaction. That being said, the individual exchanges generally move so fast that you don’t have time to explicitly think about these interactions; your body responds to what’s happening instinctively based on your training. Then you break and circle, and your active brain can process.

The terrain

 We usually practice sports in gyms on smooth floors but fights in books can happen anywhere. Foot work is important. If you have proper structure, someone twice your size can’t move you, but if you put your foot down wrong, you’ll twist your knee and end up on the ground and needing crutches.

The surroundings

Are there people nearby they are trying to protect? Do they need to avoid a priceless artifact? Is there another enemy approaching? The surroundings could be a dangerous distraction or a valuable asset.

Not getting hit

This sounds obvious, but it’s something that is very different between a real fight and a combat sport. In competition longsword, it can be a good strategy to go for a two-point target and give up a one-point target. In a real fight, with a real weapon, defense has to come first. It doesn’t matter if you take your opponent’s head off if they stab you through the heart.

Surrender

Is this fight really worth dying over? Historically, we know that knights were essentially always ransomed, which meant if they couldn’t fend off their kidnappers, it wasn’t worth their life to fight back and they’d surrender. Similarly, bandits would attack merchants on the road, but they’d break and run if the target fought back to hard.

Summary

Writing a good fight scene is about so much more than getting the details right. Immerse your readers in the experience. Crawl inside your characters head. You’ve got this.

Have a question for an experienced fighter, ask Alex in the comments.

About Alex

Dr. Alex Jemetta (she/they) is an astrophysicist and fantasy author. When she isn’t at her desk with her two cats, she is practicing historical longsword. Her love for research, the night sky, and historical weapons seeps into her world building. As a disabled, neurodivergent, queer author, she’s passionate about writing classic fantasy stories from a non-traditional perspective.

If you want more in depth ramblings about fight scenes and swords check out her website or subscribe to her newsletter.

You can also find her on Instagram, twitter, threads, blue sky, and TikTok at @astroalexwrites.

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Header phot credit - Ricardo Cruz - Unsplash

by Jenny Hansen

We've arrived at that late-January time when people start throwing in the towel on their New Year's goals. This third week of the year is when everyone starts to feel a bit crunchy about "that goals business." Why?

I wanted to know, so I looked up the reasons people fail New Year's resolutions, and here are the Top 3, according to Google.

• Setting unrealistic or vague goals
• Lacking a specific action plan (relying on motivation instead of structure)
• Having an all-or-nothing mindset that leads to quitting after one slip-up, often combined with a lack of accountability.

They further stated: "These factors prevent sustainable change, as people get discouraged by big goals, forget why they started, and don't plan for inevitable obstacles. "

Just reading all that superior-sounding stuff makes ME feel crunchy.

Gentle Goal Setting

Here at WITS, we limit ourselves to a single word of intention for the year. Last year, my word was "Implement," and this year, my word was "Receive." For some reason, this concept works extremely well for me and my ADHD brain. I only have to remember One Word.

Note: I'm one of those who also colors my word, to really cement the goal. If nothing else, it keeps me thinking about goals while I'm waiting on hold.

I've also started to do the One Word for each month. This month (January) is "Focus." I've been coloring it in throughout the month when my brain gets tired, or when I'm having trouble focusing. :-)

I'll be interested to see what the other eleven months inspire in terms of words.

My Favorite Goal-Setting Class

[Note: Yes, I've taken several. Don't judge.]

Many years ago, I took Margie Lawson's Defeating Self-Defeating Behaviors (DSDB) class. She used to teach it live, but now she just sells the lecture packet (for only $22, which is pretty amazing).

What I liked about the class:

• Margie focused on taking the shame out of the whole goal process.
• Plus, she slowed things down to just 2-3 goals per day max. Anything extra went on what Margie called the "Super Star" list, signaling to your brain that you were a Supreme Rockstar if you got one or more of those done.

It was a great class, but. . .

Sometimes goals are HARD.

Sometimes, for some brains, goals elicit a response more like "Aaagh!" And this is where I have a confession to make.

I struggle to meet my own goals.

Constantly.

Notice I said "my own goals." I am aces with outward-facing goals. Work projects, family projects, Volunteer projects. I nail those suckers. But my own goals sometimes fall far behind the rest of my life's commitments. Perhaps this happens to you too.

Then, a few years ago, I began the year with a workshop about goals that actually made a lasting difference. Something about the way they presented two particular topics gave me "a-ha moments" of epic proportions.

Let me explain...

Two Phrases That Sparked Change

The class began with the instructor saying: "Joy. Progress. Power. Fulfillment. Learning. Impact. These are the important qualities about goals."

(And then he got to the parts I really needed to hear. The magic is in easy-to-find blue font below.)

"Your brain is meant to solve problems, not just store a bunch of to-do's. You can’t get clarity while you’re mired in a to-do list."

If you’re inside the jar, you can’t read the label.

And that was my first "a-ha moment."

Before Margie, I used to make grand lists that I would misplace or get overwhelmed by. Those lists often felt like running through molasses.

No joy.
Slow progress.
No fulfillment.

I think this is the true reason so many writers (especially ADHD writers like me) get procrastination paralysis on their projects.

It's those huge to-do lists with no clear action plan.

There is an art to writing to-do's, especially big to-do's, that must be respected.

Organizing is its own project, and it takes time. For someone with ADHD, big problems are overwhelming. I've learned to talk over the organizing with better qualified people and then use their plan if I can.

Because sometimes it helps to decide in advance what "done" looks like, so you don't get lost inside that jar.

Perhaps we cannot really manage time. Perhaps we can only manage priorities.

Example #1:

[Jenny Note: I lifted this example from a more organized friend.]

She recommends you break every goal into the smallest possible pieces.

[Another Jenny Note: I've learned from experience that when *I* try to go after a goal that takes up more than a page, it doesn't go well. In fact, it usually equals frustration and the need for a project manager. They tell me what to do and everything gets done.]

But for the more organized types:

Think about a website.

Perhaps the name of the goal is "Finish Website." But breaking down the actual goal might look more like this:

1. Brainstorm a list of steps (this lets your brain solve problems):

• Make list of 6 Hex Colors
• Find complementary graphics - at least two, must be landscape, min size: 1200x800
• Build wireframe
• Research plugins
• Choose Wordpress theme
• Choose fonts

The list is much larger than this, but there's no need to bore you with it. Organize those steps into sequential tasks. Schedule some time on your calendar, because "what gets scheduled, gets done." Work on different areas of your goals several times a week.

2. Give the Goal a Realistic Deadline.

Then add at least another few weeks to it! Understanding that goals often take twice as long as we think they will takes some of the stress away.

Example #2:

Here's a goal we can ALL relate to: "Finish Book" (or even "Finish Chapter [fill in the blank]")

Y'all know that's a terrible goal as it's written, right?

Not only does it fail the SMART goal test, it's the kind of goal that's sure to send any insecure writer screaming from the page. At the very least, there will be questions like:

• Where do I start?
• How will I know when it is done?
• When will I ever finish Act II? (Maybe that's just me and Laura Drake.)

If you have any hope of finishing something as big as a book, your list of goals has to be broken down into much smaller steps that might look something more like this:

If you're a plotter...

Chapter 1 To-Do's

• List out chapter goals
• List out characters needed onscreen to accomplish these goals
• List the problems that must be solved in this chapter
• Divide all this into 3-4 scenes
• Write them one at a time
• Repeat over multiple chapters

If you're a pantser...

• Schedule writing time
• Set out kitchen timer
• List at least two chapter goals
• Start writing (Note: timed sprints often work best for pantsers)
• Repeat over multiple writing sessions

Our friend Laura Drake is a pantser of the highest order, but she has an Excel spreadsheet of what happens in every chapter. She updates it as she goes along. She might not know everything about where she's going when she sits down to write, but she knows where she's been and it helps her move forward until she can fully see the story.

Plus, she knows the big secret of goal achievement that I mentioned above:

What gets scheduled gets done.

If you set a habit of achievement in place, you will make progress on those goals. Remember, when it comes to goals, PROGRESS = HAPPINESS.

My second lightbulb (a-ha!) moment

Not breaking down my goals into manageable pieces hurts more than my work in progress. And here it is in a bright color for y'all:

When you don’t keep an agreement with yourself, it erodes your self-confidence and the ability to trust yourself and your own word.

In other words, it's highly expensive to your confidence (including your writing confidence) to break your word to yourself.

If you are scared or shamed about meeting your goals, you will get stuck.

If you're scared or shamed about your writing goals, your writing will stall.

It's human nature. Shame equals "I don't wanna" (aka "Aaagh!"). Plus, you don't get the lovely dopamine hit a finished goal provides.

That statement above gave me a visceral response.

I had a moment when the goals seminar instructor dropped that bomb about keeping agreements with yourself. Like, roaring in the ears, need-to-take-a-break, stare into space kind of moment.

Because often, I've done this, without realizing how expensive it is in the long run.

I'm so busy meeting the demands of others in my life that my dreams get shuffled to the back of the line. Instead of those dreams getting a luxury lakefront view, they're being relegated to the seat in the back next to the trash can for days or weeks at a time.

My dreams (and yours) deserve better treatment than that.

The Good News

If this breaking your word to yourself thing is a pattern, you can make the choice to put it behind you and move forward differently. The same as it does with our characters, a misbelief can create anxiety and procrastination. It can erode our confidence in ourselves.

When you keep your word to yourself, you are better able to keep it to others. In other words, prioritizing your goals helps the others in your life too.

Some great mantras for all you Goal Chasers:

• Where focus goes, energy flows.
• What gets scheduled gets done.
• FEAR = False evidence (that) appears real.
• COURAGE = action despite FEAR.

It is not the stars that create light but rather light that creates the stars.

don Miguel Ruiz, The Four Agreements

Go forth and embrace your light, y'all. We have the power to illuminate the world through our writing.

What "a-ha moments" have boosted your goal-setting and/or writing confidence? Do you break your word to yourself or do you keep it no matter what? Please share your story with us down in the comments!

About Jenny

By day, Jenny Hansen provides brand storytelling, LinkedIn coaching, and copywriting for accountants and financial services firms. By night, she writes humor, memoir, women’s fiction, and short stories. After 20+ years as a corporate trainer, she’s delighted to sit down while she works.

Find Jenny here at Writers In the Storm, or online on Facebook or Instagram.

Top photo purchased from Depositphotos.

By Susan Watts

Most writers work within rules they never consciously choose.

Some limits are obvious. Time. Energy. Life. Others slip in quietly and stay because they sound reasonable. After a while, they stop feeling like choices and start feeling like facts.

I think of these as assumed constraints. They’re limits we accept without checking whether they still apply.

There’s a familiar story about elephants that explains this better than any writing advice I’ve heard. When an elephant is young, it’s tied with a heavy chain it can’t break. After enough failed attempts, it stops trying. Years later, the chain is replaced with a thin rope. By then, the elephant doesn’t test it. It doesn’t need to. The belief does the work.

Writers do this all the time.

Something happens early on. A rejection. A comment. A rough experience. That moment turns into a rule. We get stronger, and the rule stays.

I’ve done this myself.

I’ve trained and taught martial arts for over forty years, and this shows up constantly. A student decides they’re not flexible or fast enough. Not because they’ve really tested that limit, but because something early convinced them it wasn’t worth trying. My job at that point is to help them push through that limiting belief. Training can be uncomfortable because it proves something earlier than you’re ready to accept. You’re often capable well before you feel confident about it.

For example, one of my students was small for his age and thought he couldn’t defeat the bigger kids.  But he was incredibly fast.  I worked with him on using that speed to his advantage, mainly improving his footwork.  At first, he felt awkward and often became frustrated. But eventually, the bigger kids couldn’t keep up with him, and he beat them.

Writing tends to follow the same pattern of assumed constraints.

One of the most common rules writers carry involves conditions. “I can’t write unless I have uninterrupted time.” Time helps. I won’t argue with that. But when it becomes a requirement, writing only happens when everything lines up. Which means it rarely happens at all.

This is where small tests matter. Not big, dramatic pushes. Just low-pressure ways to gather information. Writing for ten minutes and stopping. Writing one paragraph while distracted. Jotting down notes instead of waiting for the “real” session. These tests don’t ask you to perform. They just ask you to show up briefly and see what happens.

Another rule forms around voice or genre. We decide we’re not funny. Or we can’t write darker material. Or this is just how we sound. Most of the time, that decision traces back to one moment that landed harder than it should have.

Small tests here might look like rewriting a single scene with a slightly different tone. Pushing a paragraph quieter, sharper, or more playful than usual. Writing a page you never plan to keep. The point isn’t to prove you’ve suddenly changed. It’s seeing whether the rule really holds once you give yourself permission to try.

Productivity rules can be just as limiting. Some writers think speed proves they’re doing it right. Others believe moving slowly means they’re failing. I’ve believed both at different times. Writing doesn’t move at one pace. Drafting, revising, and thinking all ask for different speeds.

A small test might mean tracking time instead of word count for a week. Or working on a single beat and stopping before momentum turns into pressure. Or deliberately writing less and noticing whether the work actually suffers. Often, the fear of slowing down is louder than the consequences.

What makes small tests effective is that they don’t threaten your identity. You’re not declaring yourself a different kind of writer. You’re not committing to a new system. You’re just collecting evidence.

Not all constraints are bad. Some are useful.

Deadlines can help. Structure can help. A clear framework can keep a project from drifting. These limits guide the work without shutting it down.

The problem is the rules that stop you from starting. The ones that sound final. “I can’t.” “I’m not.” “That’s just how I work.” Those don’t shape the work. They fence it in. In my martial arts school (dojo), students are not allowed to use the word can’t. I teach them to say, “I may not be able to do (fill in the blank) right now, but I will if I keep training.”

When you challenge an assumed constraint, writing often gets uncomfortable. It might feel slower. Less certain. That doesn’t mean something’s wrong. In training, that’s usually a sign something is adapting. The body adjusts before the mind catches up. Writing does the same thing.

You don’t need to tear down every limit you have. Some of them exist for good reasons. But it’s worth checking which ones you’ve outgrown. Most change doesn’t come from breakthroughs. It comes from small tests that don’t carry pressure or expectation.

Over time, those tests do something important. They replace assumptions with experience. And once experience enters the picture, the rules start to loosen on their own.

A Short Exercise: Test One Rule

If you want to try this, keep it simple.

Write down one rule you believe about your writing.
Ask where it came from.
Choose a test so small it feels almost pointless.

That test might be:

• Writing for ten minutes and stopping
• Drafting one paragraph in a different tone
• Working without fixing anything
• Writing somewhere imperfect

Then, notice what actually happens. Not whether the work is good. Just whether the rule still holds.

You’re not proving anything. You’re just checking the result.

Because most of the time, the thing holding you in place isn’t lack of ability. It’s a rule you learned early and never thought to revisit.

What assumed constraint is holding you back?

About Susan

Under the pen name Michelle Allums, Susan Watts has authored a young adult urban fantasy titled, The Jade Amulet and is currently writing the sequel. Her short stories are also included in the anthologies Christmas Roses and Forever and Always.

Susan has dedicated over four decades to training in multiple martial arts styles and holds the impressive title of a five-time US Karate Alliance world black belt fighting grand champion. Through her karate school, she is able to impart martial arts and life skills. Susan also incorporates her martial arts knowledge into her writing.

An avid triathlete, she keeps in shape by running, biking, and swimming. She lives in the country with her husband, where they raise animals and enjoy being outdoors. Susan also has three grown children and numerous grandchildren. In addition, she is a CPA and VP of finance for a company in her hometown. 

You can connect with Susan on social media or her website.

Header image from Deposit Photo