#fight write

Let me start by saying that violence by itself is actually rather dull.

I’m talking, of course, about fictional violence. Fictional violence is meaningless until given meaning by it’s creator.

Have you ever asked yourself, why violence is terrifying? If you haven’t, ask yourself that question. Why is violence so frightening?

Answer that question for yourself, in detail. Now, don’t just settle for one answer or a broad answer. Keep digging until you get specific, until you get personal.

One of the major problems writers face when writing violence is the assumption that the violence or the act of violence is going to do the work for them. The truth is, it won’t. You’re going to need to put in the effort to move your characters from stick figures slapping each other to people with meaningful goals and stakes. Action means nothing without emotions to hook into, without costs and consequences.

So, again, why is violence scary?

Think about your favorite fight scenes either in written fiction, comics, or in film. Consider why it works for you. Why were you invested? Why did you care?

You’ll probably have different answers depending on the scene you chose, but behind each one, you’ll find a host of them. Those which are overarching in terms of plot, those which are personal on the character level. Goals. Desires. Stakes.

Part of the reason why it is so hard to provide good examples of fight scenes, (just like every other fictional scene, really) is that the real impact isn’t actually in act of the violence itself. In fiction, a fight scene is actually a climax, a culmination, and release of the tension built up in prior scenes. You might immediately think of a climactic battle at the end of a narrative like the Battle of Gondor, but it can be as small as two people arguing in a bar until one of them hits the other across the face with a glass mug.

A is standing at the bar, chatting with their friends. They’re a little tipsy, they’ve been drinking, but they’re not so drunk as to have lost all cognitive or motor function.

Enter B, at a nearby table with their companions. B is a mercenary from a unit garrisoned just outside of town. B gets up from the table and goes to the bar. B elbows A’s friend, a member of the local militia aside to order from the bartender.

A’s friend stumbles.

A grabs B by the shoulder and pushes him back.

B glares at A, demanding to know why he’s in the way.

A insists B apologize.

B refuses, insults the state of the local militia.

A’s friend tries to break in, stating they’re fine. They think everyone should calm down.

A takes a breath, relaxes.

B spits in A’s face.

A grabs their glass mug off the bar, clocks B across the face.

B stumbles backwards.

Pause.

Let me break this down:

A hitting B with the glass is actually the moment where the scene ends, the tension releases, even though the action continues into a new scene with B’s reaction. We’ve got our setup, our dilemma, our decision, and then action. On the action, the tension releases, and you start all over again.

An example is the scene from The Princess Bride where Wesley is climbing cliff and Inigo offers to throw him the rope. This sequence is a separate scene from the following duel, but works as establishment for the characters and the kind of men they are. The scene climaxes when Wesley tells Inigo to throw him the rope and enters it’s denouement as he finishes making his way to the top.

This sequence is crucial to the duel. We begin to really care about Inigo, feel a sense of camaraderie. This camaraderie is now in conflict with our desire to see Wesley save Buttercup and, as a result, we worry over Inigo’s future. He’s no longer just a mook, but a compelling character in his own right.

If you wanted the true underlying tension of The Princess Bride’s duel, it’s this conflict and not the duelist’s skill level.

The equal skill provides additional tension against the goal of saving Buttercup, but, due to Princess Bride’s fairy tale structure, we know Wesley is going to win. What keeps the duel itself interesting is, how will Wesley win and will he defeat Inigo before Buttercup is killed by Vizini?

The same question is asked in the following duel with Fezzik with a similar structure. Then, we see the same structure play out again with Vizzini. Wesley matches their skills against his in a fair fight, and, ultimately, defeats them.

There are, however, multiple fight scenes within Wesley and Inigo duel. You can see those breaks when they stop fighting, to give the audience a breather and breaking the fight up to ensure the scene doesn’t become monotonous. With action sequences, monotony is, ironically, a real danger. Putting in breaks allows you to extend the action without losing audience attention, and let’s their brain rest.

These breaks are just as important in writing as they are in film. You want to make sure you keep ratcheting up and releasing that tension, along with audience expectation.

(If you’d like an interesting breakdown of how historical fencing compares to The Princess Bride, Skallagrim’s got a good one. The Princess Bride itself is a love letter to the likes of Zorro and swashbuckling films from the Golden Age of Hollywood, digging into it’s influences can help you if that’s a genre you want to chase.)

You should start thinking of every fight sequence in your novel as not one scene, but many little scenes broken up around character action and dialogue. Build up, up, up, then release, and start over.

Setup: This is the moment before your characters engage, where you establish the stakes and potential consequences. The surrounding pieces at play, A is drinking with their friends, B is a mercenary, A’s friend is in the militia, and there might be some bad blood between them.

You start establishing your tension here, your pieces stressed against each other before we start ratcheting up.

Rising Action: This is where the tension really starts to build. Depending on the type of scene you’re structuring, your character’s violent actions could actually fit in here. Most likely, initially, prolonged violence will be part of the second scene.

Climax: Your tension dissipates on the opening strike. Then, the characters must decide if they’ll escalate. Any violence in the following scene can end here.

The climax of the example is A hitting B.

Denouement: I like to call this “The Decision”, the fallout, the realization, where characters decide if they’re going to back out. This can be the retreat, where they try to get away before being forced back into a fight, the dialogue where characters try to buy themselves time, realizations of injuries, or just their breather between bouts.

The denouement of the scene is B stumbling.

Escalate: The violence in the next section escalates, which means the situation becomes more serious, more intense, more violent. Basically, things get worse.

The escalation of the scene? If A continues to attack B, or if B’s mercenary friends join the fray.

The consequences of violent actions are, usually, events escalate into more violence.

Remember, violence is about problem solving. It’s a tool in the box of conflict resolution, one which often acts as a short term solution but ultimately makes the situation worse in the long run. If your character has chosen to resolve a conflict this way then they have limited their options to resolve the conflict differently. This is true whether you’re looking at widespread warfare or an interpersonal dispute. Violence closes off alternative routes for resolution, and builds expectations for audience over what will happen next.

When you build your world, your characters, and your narrative, you are making promises to your reader. A large part of the tension which comes from violent actions by your characters, or fight scenes, will be consequences resulting from them. If you promise, say, that violent actions by your MC will result in swift, harsh consequences which could cost them their life, then you better deliver. The character doesn’t need to die, but something should happen. Showing up to work the next day like nothing went down, especially if someone else in a position of authority saw it? Now, you’ve not only undercut your narrative tension but devalued your world and broken the reader’s trust. You promised consequences. You didn’t deliver. At that point, there’s no reason to take any other threat presented to your characters seriously.

Suspension of Disbelief is not built on realism, it’s built on your compact with the reader, the rules you’ve set for your narrative and their expectations, the narrative you’ve promised to deliver. You need rules because they create a framework for your story, for your scenes, and, especially, for you fight scenes.

Your fight scenes are only a part of your story, but they’re important. They provide an opportunity to expand your character and also create disruptive inciting incidents around which action occurs.

If people complain your characters aren’t realistic, you shouldn’t immediately jump to make events and characters more like the “real” world. Rather, you should step back, look at your worldbuilding and the expectations you set in the early pages. Did you do the prep work?

You can’t win ’em all, but, often, the criticism you’ll get won’t be helpful until you realize what it means. Everything is permissible, so long as you put in the work to set it up first.

A bar brawl at the beginning of your novel could be the foundation of the entire story with all the spiraling consequences falling like dominoes from that one action. And that, my friend? That is tension.

Tension is uncertainty. It’s in the question, what will happen next? What will happen to these characters I care about? Will they be okay?

Turning heel, Leah raced toward the window at the cavern’s opposing end.

Soldiers struggled to stand, clamoring off the benches. Some of the beta-kings drew their lasabres and laspikes, while the pteroriders yanked out pistols and force-blades.

Leah dodged past a soldier reaching for her, jumped onto the table, and flung herself forward with a telekinetic thrust. She landed hard, half-way free, lasabre springing to life in her hand. An orange flash sliced through a long wooden table hurled at her head. The pieces fractured cleanly and broke apart into two flat planes. Thrusting them behind her, she didn’t wait for the crash but heard the screams.

Overhead, footmen moved to the edges of the balconies, rifles ringing the room. They took aim as a unit, and fired into the crowd.

Dancing between the bolts, Leah dove through fleeing petitioners. Three strong presences flashed through her.

A knight in silver lunged into view, a turquoise blade ignited in his hand. His armor shone, his identity hidden by his mask.

Another, familiar, presence closed in from behind.

Nathan, Leah thought. Cor!

They were going to cut her off, pile on like raptors in the diplohouse. 

Leah’s jaw tightened. She needed to get out. That meant reaching the cavern’s overlook. Her eyes moved to the left-side balcony. There!

Orlya thrummed with approval.

Leah spun, diving into the crowd.

Two knights gave chase.

A third followed, but at an easy pace. Petitioners screaming as his telekinesis seized and hurled them from his path.

Switching off her sword, Leah catapulted high into the air, over the soldiers at the balcony railing, and landed hard. Shoulder and back aching, she rolled to her feet.

Several men stared at her.

Leah smiled.

A soldier lifted his rifle.

With raised hands, she stepped backwards.

Roaring, Hector Darenian dropped in from above — a raging ball of sapphire blue. He crashed into the gathered soldiers, plowing through them, blade shearing through their bodies. Hot blood cascading across the stone, Hector slammed headlong through the opposing wall.

Leaping over the fallen, Leah landed neatly on the balcony’s railing and stepped off. She hit the cavern floor. Another quick dash carried her to the overlook.

“Stop!”

We can sit here and talk about tension, but tension is all about the pieces you pressure against each other. External factors pressure internal goals and desires, external consequences cut off alternate paths. You can switch up with more techniques, add new odds like more enemies or more dangerous enemies, change the rules like switching from the left hand to the right, pull out new pieces of information, but there also needs to be the promise the event is going to lead somewhere, that it will affect something, that this furthers our story.

Some writers, especially new writers, have a habit of writing their story like it’s modular. The scenes are individual rather than interlinked. The hot boy gets into a bar fight to show how cool and dangerous he is, but that’s the only narrative purpose the scene has. However, you can add tension to this scene and the MC’s relationship with said boy if the police show up at their house a day later to ask questions about the brawl. Now, interacting with him could have real consequences for their own goals, their future, how good an idea is this? And, suddenly, we’ve got stakes.

If your violence serves no purpose, it has no purpose. In the world of fiction, your fight scene is what you make it. You can’t expect real world expectations or fears or the concept of violence itself to do the work for you. You’ve got to latch the actions into both your characters and your world.

How does a bar brawl between two factions affect the relationship of the town militia and the mercenaries camped outside? How does a bar brawl affect A and B’s relationship with the other locals in the bar? With the bartender? With their friends? How do the injuries sustained change the severity of what happens? What if someone dies?

Your inciting incidents are what you make of them. Your fight scene can be a workhorse building up your narrative, or it can be meaningless fluff with stick figures clashing together on the page.

-Michi

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Knife fights are notoriously tricky to write if the author isn't the slightest bit familiar with the rhythms and necessities of edge-weapon combat.

Finally put together a picture of my book haul from July. Twenty books total thanks to the Realm Maker’s conference and the YMCA book fair in St. Louis.

Excerpt from “A Rifleman Went to War” by Herbert W. McBride

Note: This is only one of many opinions on sniping in teams. Some people really do prefer one sniper, others teams. It all depends.

I first picked out my observer, and this is an important half of any sniping team. For reasons which will be given later, I am not much in favour of the “lone” sniper. A man on his own will not do half as well as a properly paired team of two.

In my opinion, the individual sniper does not get very far except for short periods of time — such as at daybreak, or at sundown, or for sniping at very short ranges where cover and shelter is apt to be scarce. For continuous sniping and observation, extending over a period of hours or days, it is much the best for the sniping force to be paired off in teams of two men. 

The mental and physical strain of having to be continuously alert for long periods is entirely too much for any one man — and this is particularly true when a large portion of the observing has to be done through a high-power telescope. No one pair of eyes will stand up to the occasion for very long. With two men, the telescope can be taken turnabout, and one man can take it easy while the other keeps the enemy under continuous observation. Also, this observation must often be kept up while the rifleman is sighting and waiting to take his shot. Very frequently you take a shot at a head bobbing up and down behind a trench or looking out from some gap in the sandbags, and when looking through the sights you cannot tell whether the target is in the clear or not. Under such circumstances, you “draw a bead,” get the slack out of the trigger, and squeeze off when your observer tells of the head again coming into view.

The situation is exactly the same as that of a pair on some rifle team shooting over the 1000 yard range in a bad wind — or better still, that of a man bring his string with a good coach at the spotting scope. The coach has all the work and worry, while the rifleman merely holds steady and touches off when the coach signals that the wind is right. And furthermore — as is very often the case with the sniping team — the coach (observer) may frequently be the more important of the two men. No — the lone sniper has a bit too much to contend with at times — particularly the one who wanders about the front lines looking for a favourable target. Not the least of his troubles may be the expostulations of some nervous Sister Annie who insists that no firing be done from that section of trench for fear “they will retaliate.” The paired teams are much the better for sniping from fixed positions or while on the defensive, and in the Canadian Corps this was the system we started out with. It worked from the start too. With a pair, it is not absolutely necessary that both men be crack shots — the best rifleman can stick to the rifle and keep the other man observing with the glass, only relieving him for brief periods. The great benefit of the pair, to my mind, is that it breaks the monotony of long hours spent away from other troops and gives two kindred spirits the constant opportunity to talk about their common interest — in addition to other topics. Then again, conditions may be such that it is much easier to train observers than to train rifle shots. In my own case, I did all the shooting and kept Bouchard at the glass for most of the time, doing the greatest part of my observing through a pair of binoculars. No, these last were not issued — there are some things which can be gotten in active service without an indent.

Continuous observation through a powerful telescope is very trying on the eye, and in my opinion the shooting member of the pair had better not engage in too much of it. I much preferred to do most of my general observing with a pair of good binoculars, and only used the big telescope to check up on a bit of target after my partner had found it; this was seldom necessary. By keeping Bouchard at the big glass most of the time, and spelling him with personal observations through my binocks, we both got along very well. At times, it may be necessary for the rifleman to put in a stretch of close observation; but it should generally be done as a preliminary to the actual shooting and not mixed in with it too much. A pair of good binoculars is not nearly as trying on the eyes as a telescope, at least that is my experience. But the telescope is much the best for real, honest-to-God observation at long ranges.

Awwwww thank you 'Nonny! This was a wonderful message to brighten up my day! You're in luck, I'm accepting prompts for my 100 followers celebration! Here y'are dear:

(find it on AO3 and @thewritersquad) (please reblog with your thoughts and comment!)

Scott: What they gotcha teachin’ here, young sergeant?

Jackie Black: Edged weapons, sir. Knife fighting.

Scott: Don’t you teach ‘em knife fighting. Teach ’em to kill. That way, they meet some sonofabitch who studied knife fighting, they send his soul to hell.

–Spartan, 2004

There really is no right answer to knife fighting, except, perhaps, the above quote. When you’re setting out to write a scene, it’s best to assess your priorities first and what your story needs. In the real world, knife combat comes in many different forms and works as a supplemental weapon in most military disciplines. It’s a common weapon in self-defense situations, and can be used both by the aggressor and the defender.

What is a knife?

Primarily, it’s a tool and, like all tools, there are situations where it thrives and those where it dies. It succeeds as an ambush weapon, as a builder on hand to hand, and when fighting in very tight quarters. Combat with knives is very quick and very deadly. As an ambush weapon, it is often used to close the distance or rush a target. Allow the knife wielder to get close to an opponent wielding a sword or a gun before either can be drawn and they will have the clear advantage. However, take the knife out of tight environments and it’s effectiveness will decrease dramatically. This is why it’s unlikely to be the only weapon in a character’s arsenal, especially not when you’re writing a professional combatant.

What kind of fight are you writing?

The knife is a deadly weapon in the hands of anyone, it doesn’t require any specialized training to be able to wield it. It’s more user friendly to killing than even a gun and can require less maintenance. Basic understanding works fine. You pick it up, you stab, and then you stab some more. The stabs may all go to one place, often the gut, but five or six into one place will leave the other character bleeding out on the sidewalk.

It’s up to you on whether or not you want to (or if it’s even appropriate to your story) write a scene which is more sophisticated. Remember, it doesn’t have to be. The basic principle of the knife is incredibly simple: You’re gonna shank a dude.

So, don’t freak out.

When it comes to a knife, anywhere on the body is a convenient target. Anywhere. This is one of the few weapons where you really don’t need to know much about it to write a scene. The knife is fairly intuitive. Unless your character needs to get fancy with their martial combat, then you do need to study. Even then, you still need to pick your martial art and do your research. Plenty of martial styles have a knife component, so it’s more a matter of searching through the different styles to find the one which fits your character and story.

Below the cut, I’ll discuss some basic theory and suggestions that hopefully will be enough to get you a jumping off point into the fine art of shanking. This is no means a comprehensive list, just basic beginner tips.

Knife fighting isn’t sword fighting with minis. This is the first, and most important, lesson. They belong in separate categories. Knives are supplementary weapons in hand to hand and when included significantly raise the threat level to what that individual intends. When someone whips out a knife in combat, they are raising the stakes from “someone might die” to “I definitely want to kill somebody”.

Knife combat is very fast and any received injury will be devastating. Someone with a knife versus someone without one has a significant advantage. Knives are very dangerous and, if your character isn’t careful, a fight can easily end with a double suicide when both characters are bleeding their guts out on the side of a highway.

There are a lot of different kinds of “knife fighting” out there and many different techniques available for you to look into for your character. The question is what kind of knife fighting are they trained in/used to? Many traditional martial arts all around the globe have their own set or subset of combat tactics when wielding a knife. Military and Police H2H do as well, though the techniques employed by Police will focus less on using a knife and more on disarming/subduing an opponent who carries one. The knife is a very common weapon for street level criminals and it’s genuinely viewed as the most dangerous of the weapons one can encounter in that environment. (Yes, even more dangerous than a gun and also more common.) Some of the more “militant” or “practical” self-defense subsets advocate using knives for self-defense.

Whatever you choose to go with in your story, it’s best to remember this one simple rule when it comes to knife combat: like all bladed weapons, knives are for killing. If a character pulls a knife on another character then they are making an active threat on their life. Their intentions no longer matter, the threat is “if you don’t give me what I want, I will kill you” or “I plan to kill you”.

Knives are best suited to opportunistic combat and tight spaces. In a wide view for the professional combatant, they are usually the fallback weapon or situational weapon that gets pulled when the character needs to either be stealthy/carry an easily concealable weapon, or give them an advantage within tight/confined spaces where a sword, pole arm, or gun aren’t practical. Knives are easily concealable, very dangerous in unarmed/unarmored combat, and often end with someone dead or grievously injured.

If your character specializes in knife combat, then they need to be able to accurately assess the appropriate situations where knife combat is viable and where it is not. Weapons are specialized for different situations. Accept that bringing a knife to a gun fight or sword fight is a losing proposition if they try to take them head on. What makes a character “skilled” is not their ability to face all comers or overcome the rules by virtue of being awesome, it’s in their ability to accurately assess a situation and develop a plan of action which plays to their strengths. While their plan may go sideways (no plans are ever guaranteed success), it’s the thought that counts.

Do Hang onto Your Knife

This seems like simple and obvious advice, but your character is not guaranteed to hold onto their knife throughout the entire fight. The character’s knife can be just as dangerous to them as their opponent’s if they fail to keep a firm grip. Without properly applied pressure, the blade can simply slip free, slide through the hand and cut it open, or be dropped when filled with adrenaline. Cutting and stabbing another individual relies on pressure, if the character’s grip is not secure then they may simply lose the knife. Characters with little to no combat experience will be more subject to this law. Even so, mistakes can happen to anyone regardless of experience level.

Do Avoid the Blade

Knives are very dangerous weapons, any cut your character suffers during the fight can potentially be lethal. The reason for this is blood loss. The more active you are, the more blood your body pumps through your heart, if there is a hole in your body then the more blood will escape during the fight. The more holes you get, the more blood escapes and there is nowhere on your body a knife can hit that won’t draw blood. Your veins are everywhere. One single hit can lead to a chain of from bad to worse.

Knife fights happen within very close proximity, even if your character is armed that won’t protect them from getting cut. A character is going to want to stay out of range of the knife until they are ready to commit. Instead of grasping and grappling, you’re going to be looking at a fair amount of ducking, dodging, and deflecting. It’s not like with basic hand to hand where you’re characters can simply trade blows. The fighters want to keep the knives as far from them as humanly possible. Catch the blade either early in the swing (as the arm draws back) or late in the swing (after they’ve fully extended) to initiate a counter attack, or cut under as they swing. Whatever your character does, their priority is going to be on keeping that knife away from them so the other person cannot reverse and stab.

Use your characters “free” (non-weapon carrying) hand for blocking, deflecting, and controlling. Characters who use the Phillipino martial art escrima may supplement their free hand with a short stick or a baton. Characters wielding two knives give up their ability to deflect and control their opponent. They are trading their defensive options for more stabbing power.

Do Keep Track of the Blade

This is more for when you the author are writing, but also a good plan for your characters. When writing fight scenes, especially when both characters are armed, there’s a bad habit of writers imagining the sequence like a video game. The knife is important only so long as it’s there to establish a threat, once one character gets the upper hand then it’s immediately forgotten.

Don’t forget it’s there. Even if it gets knocked free or knocked away in the fight. As the writer, always know where the weapons are even if the other characters forget about them. Anything can happen with a free weapon. Any other character can pick it up, any other character can make off with it, and be waiting when your victorious protagonist walks around the corner. If the character still has the knife, then they can still stab your protagonist even when they are winning. Sometimes, even when they are dying. Keep track of all weapons in the scene.

Don’t Grab the Blade

Your hand is full of nerves and important tendons necessary for maintaining a grip. A blade will slice through all of them and cripple your character, leaving them bleeding and unable to defend themselves. Your hand is a mechanical marvel, it is incredibly delicate. When damaged, it can take a long while to recover, assuming it ever does.

This is why deflection is so important in knife fights, as well as more risky blocks that expose lesser parts of the body to injury in exchange for more important ones. These blocks include using the edge of the forearm, where the bone is closest to the surface and there are few important muscles, to attempt to catch or lockup the blade in the bone. This is, however, incredibly risky. Alternate knife grips, such as a reverse grip, can avoid this block by slashing under instead of the expected over and sever the veins and tendons before following up with a stab to the ribs or gut. If you really, really, really must have your character do something with their hand then instead of grabbing the blade, ram their hand through it. It is terrible advice and will do long term damage to the hand, but if there’s no other way out go that route. Your character will appear slightly smarter because they attempted to lock the blade up in the bones inside the hand. Locking up the knife creates an opening for them to attack. It’s definitely a sacrificial gesture, but if it’s your hand or your life then go with the hand.

Deflect at the hand, the wrist, the elbow, and upper arm. Make contact with the opponent and not the blade itself. If your character must attempt a disarm (very dangerous), catch the wrist or the hand. Take the hilt, torque the blade against the thumb (not the fingers) to pop it free. The other character won’t be able to hold onto the blade. Like with most martial actions, taking the knife isn’t about strength. It’s about attacking the weak link (the thumb), forcing the hilt into a position where the attacker can no longer maintain a grip.

Disarms are exceedingly dangerous to perform. So, when writing, always try ensure that the necessary body parts are protected and the blade is redirected somewhere else. Best if it’s in a position where it can no longer come at you again.

Don’t Fuck Around

One general problem many authors have is they assume when someone becomes “good” then basic threats no longer apply. In game terms, they level past certain dangers and when they do those dangers no longer apply. Now, this is a common cliche in many martial arts movies. The trick is understanding that it’s a failing on the part of the student and their overconfidence inevitably brings them back down to earth.

It doesn’t matter how good your character is, combat is always dangerous. A character’s professionalism is defined by how seriously they take the threats made on their life and the part where they recognize the inherent danger present in any situation. What they know will not keep them safe from danger. It gives them a better chance and that’s all.

You never level past danger. Whether they’ve seen one battle or a hundred, treat every threat seriously and end it quickly. The longer a fight goes on, the greater the chance that something will go wrong.

Don’t Prolong Suffering

It’s cruel. If your character is in a situation where they must kill, then killing quickly is kindness. While this should probably go under “Don’t Fuck Around”, this is deserving of its own topic.

In Dune, when young Paul Atreides must duel Jamis to secure his position within Stilgar’s Fremen tribe, he is initially condemned by the other members of the tribe when he prolongs the fight. The issue for him is that while he is an exceptionally skilled combatant, he’s never killed before and is hesitant to take a life. However, his lifetime of training has left him so skilled that the Fremen see his behavior as cruel. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that he is going to win. All his hesitance does is tease his opponent with false hope and prolong his suffering. There is no out for Paul, he must kill.

This was an important scene in the novel because of the way it highlighted the difficulty in the act of killing another human being even when one has been brought up their life to do so. It also humanized the Fremen. While their laws are strict and their culture brutal due to their harsh environment, they won’t thank any protagonist for prolonging the suffering of someone they care about.

Holding off doesn’t make your character look like a decent human being. There is more to the conversation than killing bad, living good. What Paul does to Jamis is a form of torture. It is unintentional, but that doesn’t change the end result. When your characters are in a situation where they are more skilled than their opponent and you have placed them in a situation where they must kill then mucking around, prolonging the scene, is cruel.

This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. The scene I put forward from Dune is powerful and informative, it serves a purpose. What you should do is recognize the act for what it is, allow other characters to notice the same, and condemn the character for it.

Don’t Give the Knife Back

If someone tries to kill you, don’t give them their weapon back once the fight is over. In novels, this is treated as “sportsmanlike” behavior. A sign the character has defeated their enemy and are now proving they are the bigger person. It’s stupid. There’s nothing stopping them from burying that knife in your character’s back or their ribs the minute they turn around. Just defeating someone doesn’t stop them from wanting to kill you. It also won’t stop them from stabbing someone else.

Lots of characters do this. If you have a character engaging in this behavior, and they just might, think about it when you write the consequences of the decision.

Do Lock Up the Hand (and other body parts)

Attack the portions of the body they use to fight. Carve up the hand/arm first to get it out of the way, then go for the main body. Author’s often get too invested in “kill shots”, they sometimes forget that getting from Point A to the killing blow has intervening steps, like getting through their defenses. If the character has the option to go straight in to take them out of the fight and the situation allows it, then all the better.

However, sometimes a character is going to have to do a little extra work than just rushing forward and stabbing the other character. If the other character has a knife, then 9/10 they’ll just be running into the other person’s knife. This advice goes hand in hand with “Avoiding the Blade” and keeping track of the weapon. While the knife can easily be switched between hands, it’s a good idea to create openings in their defenses. This can be done using either the “free”/defensive hand or the knife itself. Where the enemy knife is will be important to targeting and response. Attacking the arm or wrist holding the blade can be helpful to ending the knife’s threat.

After all, if they can’t use the arm then they can’t use the knife. These kinds of blows are, however, just openers to attack the other more sensitive parts of the body.

You’re not just attacking veins. Good slashes will also cut through or damage the muscles and ligaments necessary for a person to keep fighting. In this respect, it’s best to think of knife combat as surgical. While on the one hand, it can be blunt. It can also be incredibly precise and ridiculously fast. This kind of speed and precision you won’t get from a longer weapon.

Do Study Police Blotters and Medical Files

Knife injuries will teach you more about knife combat than all the techniques in the world. Learning what a weapon can do to somebody is part and parcel to developing a healthy respect for the weapon. When we get right down to it, knife combat is pretty gruesome.

Do Remember There Are Different Kinds of Knives

There’s the dagger. Daggers typically possess two edges or are double-sided blades. They are the traditional variant of the combat knife. Daggers, such as the parrying dagger from fencing, can also be used as tools or secondary defensive weapons instead of offensive.

And the knife. Typically possess a single edge, primarily used for cutting, and are tools. However, the term also applies to most modern combat knives.

The terms can be used interchangeably.

What is your character carrying? A tactical knife? A switchblade? A kitchen knife? These are different and one isn’t a weapon. I mean just look and those are just the modern ones. Also keep in mind that throwing knives are not the same as throwing a knife. Throwing knives are made for throwing, if your character is throwing a regular knife then they need to make some adjustments for weight and balance.

Worth remembering: throwing a regular knife just means your character has lost theirs. Knife throwing has become a narrative fast hand for saying that “my character has impressive accuracy” and often used in cases where it makes very little sense. Knife throwing is a skill, as throwing anything is a skill. It’s a very nice party trick, but means almost nothing in regards to combat viability. It’s a lot like tossing around a baseball or a paper airplane. Anything you throw and don’t want to lose, you still have to go out and retrieve.

Because knives are also tools, be prepared to distinguish between the improvised weapon (such as cutlery or any utility knife) and the actual weapon such as a combat knife (a weapon designed around the idea of stabbing another living person). For characters who use knives for combat will not mix the two unless it’s absolutely necessary as it damages the knife’s functionality both as a weapon and also as a tool.

Do Use Sensation Appropriate Verbs

Depicting combat in your writing is often about finding the right words that generate the appropriate feel of the motion you’re aiming for. In this case, hard sharp words like cut, thrust, slice, slash, stab, drove, instead of hard but round words implying crushing force like “hit”. “He hit him with the knife.” Does that sound right? When we use the word “hit“ we conjure images of kinetic force, a knockback, and a slight bounce. Words that imply blunt force trauma are out, unless it involves hitting someone with the butt of the knife hilt (though why would you do that? It’s not a sword pommel). Knives and bladed weapons go “in”, they impale. There is driving force behind the edged weapon, but also a sense of smoothness in the action.

Soft words also can work in certain situations like : slip or slid, like “he slid the blade between his ribs”.

You can also use words like “caught” to convey what happens to the blade when it penetrates the body. “She tried to yank it back, but the blade had caught in Adam’s ribcage.”

I hope these have been helpful to you.

-Michi

Resources:

Stay Safe Media – This self defense vlog run by edged weapon’s expert Michael Janich is very helpful for those looking to get quick information about knives and knife combat. Janich’s predominate focus is on self-defense, but he puts a primary focus on framing the training through real life situations. His videos have been very helpful to me and hopefully will be to some of you as well.

Contemporary Knife Targeting – Contemporary Knife Targeting by Michael Janich isn’t really about targeting per say, it’s mainly about William Fairburn’s Timetable of Death, which is used by Police and Military to determine how long someone has from resulting knife injuries and why it’s flawed. This is pretty much why I recommend the book because it spends a vast majority of it’s time going in depth into a discussion of how quickly someone will die from which injury. If you want to write about knife fights, this one is worth a look.

Dune – Frank Herbert’s Dune has some very well written knife sequences, but also good world building explanations for certain kinds of behavior. The Fremen culture is very reactive to what Paul and Jessica do when they join. Paul must convince them he is what he says. While stories in which the hero isn’t given carte blanche to do what they like aren’t uncommon, characters dealing with consequences other than the basic “death is bad” or “I can’t believe you did that” are slightly more unusual. There are more kinds of horror and emotional rollercoasters than just easily grasped indignation.

Spartan – I linked the above quote at the beginning and while Spartan doesn’t talk about “knife fighting”, you do see another colder perspective in the main character. It’s more about attitude than knives, but worth considering.

U.S. Military, Systema, Israeli Military, Kali and Escrima from the Philippines, and many other martial systems have a knife component to their training. It’s up to you to decide what level of knife combat your character is trained in and find a style which corresponds accordingly.

As always, keep in mind that combat constantly changes, evolves, and grows over time. All martial systems are not created equal, they were developed to deal with specific challenges faced by the culture in question. While they might not lose cultural relevance, combat effectiveness changes with the times. A character who spends his weekends practicing Kendo or Iaido is not the same as a samurai from 1185. The modern special forces, or even just the basic soldier, are a better comparison.

Anonymous said to howtofightwrite: First of all, your explanation upon the dagger vs. sword battle is TRULY HELPFUL in my writing as I have no idea what to do about that kind of situation when one of my characters is in that scene. However, as you have stated, one shouldnt just carry a single dagger or a sword or a bow, and you must carry at least a bunch of weapons— So, what about someone who carries a handful of knives and is skilled in throwing them against someone with a sword? No matter the distance?

Are we talking about throwing knives or actually throwing knives, because one of those is a specific weapon type designed for projectile throwing and the other one is someone who likes to give their knives away. As a great Marine once said, “when you’ve thrown your knife, you’ve given your opponent your knife.”

Distance always matters. The type of projectile you have, its weight, is relative to understanding it’s effective range. I know you brought up throwing knives to get away from the range discussion, but, you know, different projectile weapons have effective ranges too. This is a question of force and momentum versus inertia and wind resistance. The weapon needs enough force behind it to not only reach its target but also impact at high velocity, otherwise it doesn’t do much.

A thrown weapon has a shorter effective range than a bow or a crossbow. The throwing knife has the additional problem of being much lighter than other throwing weapons like the throwing axe and the javelin, meaning it can’t travel as far. They’d still have to be decently close to the sword guy for their knives to maintain effect. A standard knife is even less aerodynamic than a throwing knife, meaning you need to be even closer. That’s not the only issue with throwing a knife though.

The combat problem with throwing knives as a weapon is they fit a specific niche and are, basically, trick weapons. They can be dangerous but only under specific circumstances. You can use them against someone who is unarmored, but you’ll just annoy an armored opponent. This will include the city guards, local knights, and anyone with a dense wool coat. If padded armor can stop an arrow, a throwing knife has no chance in hell. They’re among the weakest of the projectiles, both in speed and force. A swordsman who has experience dealing with projectiles could parry them without much cost. For reference, they lose out to the throwing axe and the javelin.

Throwing axes can be parried in flight, but due to the weapon’s weight combined with its momentum it has a higher cost to stop. Martial combat is all about physics, which is a discussion about weight, inertia, momentum. Even when you successfully block, parry, or clash with an opponent, you take a portion of that force into your body. This is to say, vibration. A little like what you feel after hitting a large metal bell with a hammer. So, “ouch!”

In case of the javelin, the Northern Germanic Tribes used to catch those in flight and throw them back at the Romans. They played a game as children where they would throw sticks back and forth, and that translated into catching and throwing Roman javelins. Turned out to be an ugly surprise for the Romans.

You’ll run into a similar problem with knives, especially if you’re just throwing regular knives. Knife throwing is a common parlor trick. The further back into history we go, the more common it becomes. People used to (and still do) play knife throwing games similar to darts. Bored soldiers and sailors liked to throw their knives at things. The knife is a small weapon, doubling as a utilitarian tool, and less vital than some others so soldiers would play with them. They shouldn’t, but they did. Modern soldiers still do. So, the chance your character would run into people completely unfamiliar with knives and the throwing of knives is unlikely. Given how weak the knife is as a projectile (especially one not designed for throwing), the worst thing that can happen isn’t that another character catches the knife and throws it back, but they take the knife and keep it. Now, your main character is down a knife and that knife may be used against them next. Besides, knives aren’t exactly cheap to replace. This is doubly true when talking about specialized projectiles that aren’t regularly requested from the local blacksmith.

They’re going to need money to support their hobby. Throwing knives aren’t like arrows which can be produced easily, cheaply, and are more in demand. You’re more likely to find a local fletcher who can make good arrows than a blacksmith who’ll reproduce a carefully crafted throwing knife from a set of throwing knives. The less common the gear, the harder it is to replace.

Crossbows and bows have the reputations they do for a reason, they were warfare mainstays. The longbow, in particular, served as the artillery of their day. Eventually, generals replaced bowmen in the back lines with cannons. I understand the resistance to utilizing the bows or crossbows, especially if culturally stereotyped Archer doesn’t fit the archetype you have in mind for your character. However, it’s worth remembering that there’s often a vast gap between media and real life. In fiction, dangers presented by archery is often downplayed. The upper body strength question is also usually ignored. Bows are given to lithe, skinny people like Legolas (who is an elf and supernaturally strong), our cultural ideal of Robin Hood, or female characters like Katniss. In a lot of fiction, the bow (even more than the crossbow) is treated like the equivalent of a gun. Which, no. The bow isn’t at all like a gun.

For one thing, the bow requires a lot of conditioning for upper body strength. Different bows have different draw weights, so you should always investigate the type of historical bow you envision a character using. Unlike swords and other melee weapons, the draw happens in the shoulders with the most strain placed on a single arm. With medieval longbows, you’d be looking at a draw weight between 90 to 160 pounds. They require a lot of upper body strength in the shoulders to draw and wield effectively. They also require a lot of care on the part of the archer to maintain combat readiness. The English and Welsh archers of their day could draw and fire roughly eight to ten arrows per minute. The crossbow was slower with one to two bolts per minute. Modern bows, comparatively, you’re looking at 30 to 60 pound draw weight. A lot of advancements in technology make the drawing easier while applying greater force.

The strength of the bow is you can fire a single shaft, carrying a lot of force that impacts on a single point. The end result for the weapon’s effectiveness is the amazing power of physics. The bow still sees occasional use in modern warfare today because, unlike a gun, it’s a truly silent killer.

Despite what anime and some fantasy narratives will tell you, bolts and arrows cannot be parried by a sword mid flight. They are too fast and have too much force behind them, especially arrows. Arrows and bolts, depending on type, can go through armor. It isn’t guaranteed, but they can. Arrows and bolts never completely invalidated armor, including plate armor, the way firearms eventually did. Bolts from crossbows have a shorter effective range from arrows. While crossbows fired more slowly, but they were easier to use.

Both Lindybeige and Scholagladiotoria have some great videos about arrow ballistics, bows (longbows specifically), and (English) warbows. Which I recommend watching, if you’re interested in historical archery either for writing or just in general. I really recommend watching the Lindybeige video for an in depth discussion on the additional gear your archer would wear to avoid the injuries they might get, along with proper posture, and Hollywood cliches.

You might assume, due to common assumptions that body types are static rather than changeable, if you weren’t born with the ability to easily build muscle in your upper body (like a man, unlike women who build muscle more easily in their legs) or aren’t a big, brawny sort of person that you can’t wield a weapon that requires a lot of strength.

This is wrong.

Very few people have all the correct muscles preconditioned for success and seamlessly learn to perform any sort of martial arts without effort. Training is what you need, specifically conditioning, to build specific muscles you’ll be regularly using. Outside your bone structure, which isn’t as malleable, athletics change your body. In fact, some health and fitness gurus have developed programs and exercise regimens which will help you achieve a specific type of body rather than just the healthiest version of you. Fiction will tell you that the type of body have will decide what sort of heroic profession or martial type you’re best suited for. That’s crap, straight up.

Some women and men might face more difficulty learning to use a bow in the beginning, or take longer to build up muscle for bows with heavier draw weights, but a slow start never negates a strong finish.

What separates the skilled from the unskilled is enthusiasm, being unwilling to give up in the face of difficulty or challenge, and lost, and lots, and lots of practice. They might have natural talent, but skill is the product of hard work. Conditioning is the part of your training which builds up your wind, your muscles, and your flexibility. These are your runs up with the hill, your wind sprints, your jumping jacks, your push ups, your pull ups, and other exercises.

I do recommend watching Lindybeige’s Three General Principles of Combat as he does a good job of going over the basic principles. Though, one thing he neglects to mention when discussing ideal ranges is that the size differences between two children are actually greater than the size differences between adults. So, it is much easier to get to your ideal range in a fist fight. Hand to hand ideal ranges are defined less by size, and more by the type of discipline you practice.

Different martial arts have their ideal ranges for where specific techniques are most effective, translating loosely to kicks, fisticuffs, standing grappling, and ground fighting. While most martial disciplines cover all four, they often specialize in only one or two. A Taekwondo specialist will prefer to start further away from their opponent so they can make good use of their legs versus a boxer or a wrestler who’d rather be up close. There are outliers like Muay Thai, where the kicks and stances have been adjusted to be effective in the hand range, but we’re discussing general principles.

That said, however, there are historical examples of individuals unscrewing the pommels of their swords and chucking them at their opponents to win duels at tournaments.

So, you know, anything’s possible.

(If you’re questioning the validity of pommel throwing, understand they did it as a method of distraction rather than immediate victory. It’s a specialized dueling tactic where you’re technically not cheating by bringing a second weapon, but you’re cheating. Throw pommel. Distract opponent. Gain the initiative. Hit first. Win.)

-Michi

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