Action scenes might seem difficult to write.
How can you write an exciting scene without it being a boring list of actions to read?
Let’s find out by taking a look at THREE action scenes from very different books!
During the last stream, a subscriber requested that we go over how to write action scenes.
You can watch the full video here to or scroll down to for highlights.
Action Scene Example #1
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Troll Battle
The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.
Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll’s neck from behind. The troll couldn’t feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry’s wand had still been in his hand when he’d jumped — it had gone straight up one of the troll’s nostrils.
Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.
Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand — not knowing what he was going to do when he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: “Wingardium Leviosa!”
- Not a list of actions, but it has beats: Harry jumps, wand in nose, clinging, Ron’s spell. Each one of the beats have 2-3 sentences each
- Also the narration is not afraid to give commentary on the battle, saying that Harry’s actions are “brave and very stupid” or “even a troll will notice if…” (underlined sections). These flourishes keep the action scenes interesting to read
- Also, we’re always aware of what’s going on: what the troll, Harry, Ron and Hermione are doing, never have to guess
Action Scene Example #2
Hunger Games: The Start of the Tournament
A boy, I think from District 9, reaches the pack at the same time I do and for a brief time we grapple for it and then he coughs, splattering my face with blood. I stagger back, repulsed by the warm, sticky spray. Then the boy slips to the ground. That’s when I see the knife in his back. Already other tributes have reached the Cornucopia and are spreading out to attack. Yes, the girl from District 2, ten yards away, running toward me, one hand clutching a half-dozen knives. I’ve seen her throw in training. She never misses. And I’m her next target.
All the general fear I’ve been feeling condenses into an immediate fear of this girl, this predator who might kill me in seconds. Adrenaline shoots through me and I sling the pack over one shoulder and run full-speed for the woods. I can hear the blade whistling toward me and reflexively hike the pack up to protect my head. The blade lodges in the pack. Both straps on my shoulder now, I make for the trees. Somehow, I know the girl will not pursue me. That she’ll be drawn back into the Cornucopia before all the good stuff is gone. A grin crosses my face. Thanks for the knife, I think.
- Very little actual action (underlined sections), it’s mostly describing the scene, how things look/sound, so that way we feel like we’re there with Katniss
- There’s also good introspection, reminding us about training, where the other tributes are from, the other girl’s plans, and what Katniss plans to do with the knife
- Good variation between short and long sentences, shorter sentences are better for punch/emotion (“That’s when I see the knife in his back.”) and longer sentences are better for description/narration (“All the general fear…”)
Action Scene Example #3
The Name of the Wind: Kvothe’s Lute String Breaks
And we sang! Her voice like burning silver, my voice an echoing answer. Savien sang solid, powerful lines, like branches of a rock-old oak, all the while Aloine was like a nightingale, moving in darting circles around the proud limbs of it.
I was only dimly aware of the audience now, dimply aware of the sweat on my body. I was so deeply in the music that I couldn’t have told you where it stopped and my blood began.
But it did stop. Two verses from the end of the song, the end came. I struck the beginning chord of Savien’s verse and I heard a piercing sound that pulled me out of the music like a fish dragged from deep water.
A string broke. High on the neck of the lute it snapped and the tension lashed it across the back of my hand, drawing a thin, bright line of blood.
I stared at it numbly. It should not have broken. None of my strings were worn badly enough to break. But it had, and as the last notes of the music faded into silence I felt the audience begin to stir. They began to rouse themselves from the waking dream that I had woven for them out of strands of song.
In the silence I felt it all unraveling, the audience waking with the dream unfinished, all my work ruined, wasted. And all the while burning inside me was the song, the song. The song!
Without knowing what I did, I set my fingers back to the strings and fell deep into myself. Into years before, when my hands had callouses like stones and my music had come as easy as breathing. Back to the time I had played to make the sound of Wind Turning a Leaf on a lute with six strings.
And I began to play.
- Almost none of the actual song/music is described, only the feelings. The music that the reader hears in their own heads will be better than anything you can describe, and that goes for regular action too, a reader’s own choreography will be better than yours
- Give your reader enough to imagine but not so much that it overwhelms. In general, fewer beats, more feelings (senses/emotions).
- Don’t be afraid to get descriptive in your action, like these longer sentences show (underlined)
- When you intersperse those longer sentences with shorter, punchy ones that ignite the action, it will keep the pace going (bolded)
In Summary
- Don’t just list actions, have action beats, and each beat should get at least 2-3 sentences (Harry Potter) or 2-3 paragraphs (Name of the Wind) that consist of…
- …narration, description, introspection so that we can see/feel what’s going on
- Use shorter sentences for punchy transitions in the action
- Overall: WRITE ACTION SCENES THE SAME WAY YOU WRITE THE REST OF YOUR STORY!
- When you write an action scene, you don’t follow different rules from the rest of your story
- Stories aren’t divided into action/non-action sections, there can be faster and slower sections, but they should all be in a uniform style, voice and plot
After that, chat voted that we used what we went over to write an action scene based on this prompt: a man at gunpoint is forced to write a letter or die.
Here’s what we came up with:
Sitting at my desk in the dark room, the shadow behind me presses his gun against my neck. There’s no sweat for the metal tip to slip against; I’m as dry as a bone. Honestly, I always knew this day would come. From behind me, the gunman speaks in a raspy whisper.
“Come on, you useless sack.” He thrusts the gun forward, my head following it like a command, then slowly reeling back. “Let’s get this over with. Start writing.”
He’d made his demands clear from the second he’d appeared in my room. If I didn’t write the letter, then he was going to shoot. Simple as that. In front of me on the desk were all the materials I needed: paper, pen, that’s it. No erasers for mistakes. No mistakes allowed.
“What? Did you forget how to pick up a goddamn pen?” the gunman asks. “No wonder you can’t do anything right.”
Anger spreads from my fingertips as I pick up the cheap dollar store pen and put it to paper. I’d been ready for this moment, but being rushed against my will was not part of the plan. Still, I don’t dare say anything that would upset the gunman. One frustrated flick of his finger is all it would take.
“Get going,” he grunts from the blackness behind me. “Tell your family what you really think. Tell them who you really are. Then I’ll see if you did a good enough job or not, if you earned your reward.”
He clicks the gun. I click the pen. Press the tip to the top of the white printer paper. And then it flows.
It’s kind of surprising how easily it comes out. All the apologies, all the wasted opportunities, all the regrets. Everything I wish that had happened, that hadn’t, because of me.
The ink begins to flow down, bleeding the lines together as if I’m stabbing the life out of the paper. I can hear it silently begging me to stop. But I can’t. Now that I’ve started cutting it up, I need to keep going. No witnesses. It’s a mercy to not let it live like this.
When I reach the end of the paper, there’s still more I want to write. So many more lengths of heart-wrapped barbed wire that needs to come untangled. But all I can do is sign my name in the blank little corner at the bottom, just enough to loosen the cords so it can beat a little bit again.
But it’s not enough for the gunman.
“Pathetic,” he groans from behind me, burying the cold muzzle of the gun into my neck. “You call this writing? It’s barely legible bullcrap. You can’t even write a proper letter. You didn’t address it to anyone, idiot.”
He’s right. I glance at the top of the page; no name. Even though as I was writing it the whole time, I knew who I was telling it to, I just didn’t have the bravery to actually put it down. Even now, my hand shakes as I move it toward the top, the name contained within the pen ready to come out.
I write the recipient’s name at the top of the letter. It’s the same name as my signature at the bottom. It’s me.
The gunman leans over my shoulder to read what I wrote. As soon as he does, the gun leaves the back of my neck and whips across my cheek. I collapse to the floor, looking up at the gunman, now holding the gun pointed at me on the ground.
He’s upset because it’s his name too.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he seethes as the gun clatters in his shaking hands. “You were supposed to write this to our family! And then end this miserable life of ours once and for all.”
Lying on the floor with my hands up, I have nothing to say to him. Anything I would say he’d just twist into hatred, like he always does.
“You were supposed to apologize to them for being a burden!” he yells, thrusting the gun down toward me. “You say what you need to say, then cut your useless self out of their lives. Permanently!”
He’s right. Except there’s one thing he’s missing.
“Yeah,” I say to him, speaking for the first time. “I was supposed to do that. But I didn’t.”
The gun falls to the carpet floor with a small thud. The gunman has disappeared. I’m alone on the ground, staring down the mouth of the metal snake that almost bit me.
From downstairs, my wife calls up to ask if everything is okay. She heard a noise, apparently. I yell down that everything is fine.
And maybe, for once, it’s not a lie.
Be sure to check out the video for more info, to see other ways the story could’ve gone, and for a live reading!
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
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