How to write sharp action scenes

Along with physical description, clear, sharp action scenes have become a bit of a lost art in the manuscripts that cross my desk. So many writers are more focused on their characters’ snappy banter than showing characters moving seamlessly through the physical world.

Precise action will turn a vaguely confusing jumble into a gripping scene. In this post, I have eight tips that will have you writing gripping action scenes in no time.

Much like my post on physical description, I’m going to start with a clunky and confusing action sequence and gradually smooth it out using my pointers. (Also, I made this passage up, no authors harmed in the making of this post):

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door and started running, his gait gaining pace, his heart pounding, sweat creasing his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted to his cousin.

Michael, knowing he didn’t have much time to spare, started running too, his footsteps echoing.

The wraiths heard the footfalls as they ran past. Nathan’s cousin saw one wraith and Nathan heard another’s whispered incantations.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath, wondering what would happen next, looking for an escape, knowing they didn’t have time. Michael sensed something approaching from behind, and Michael’s cousin couldn’t believe his eyes. Nathan held the torch in front of him like a weapon.

Two wraiths entered, knowing their dark lord would be most displeased if they could not capture their quarry.

A wraith collapsed. Nathan looked at his torch, quite satisfied. Michael watched him duck under a spell and swung his leg out to trip the wraith with his boot, who knew he was finished. A cloud of purple smoke signaled the wraith’s disappearance after Nathan set him ablaze.

Michael’s cousin looked around. They were in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the dank green ceiling. A ladder led to a porthole that would lead to their escape. Michael could taste freedom.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Let’s make it better. Here are my tips.

Know your perspective

Perspective is one of the most important storytelling fundamentals when you’re writing a novel. It’s always crucial to know your perspective, but it’s particularly jarring when the perspective is a jumbled mess in an action scene.

The reader needs to know where they “are” within a scene so they can contextualize what’s happening from that vantage point. If you start head hopping all over the place, the reader is going to be completely disoriented.

Here, we start with Nathan but bounce around between Michael and the wraiths. Nathan is referred to as both Nathan and “Michael’s cousin.” We are bouncing between vantage points willy nilly.

Let’s switch this mess of a perspective to third person limited tied to Nathan.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door and started running, his gait gaining pace, his heart pounding, sweat creasing his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted to his cousin.

Michael, knowing he didn’t have much time to spare, started running too, his footsteps echoing.

The wraiths heard the footfalls as they ran past. Nathan’s cousin saw one wraith and Nathan heard another’s a wraith’s whispered incantations.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath, wondering what would happen next, looking for an escape, knowing they didn’t have time. Michael sensed something approaching from behind, and Michael’s cousin He couldn’t believe his eyes. Nathan He held the torch in front of him like a weapon.

Two wraiths entered, knowing their dark lord would be most displeased if they could not capture their quarry.

A wraith collapsed. Nathan looked at his torch, quite satisfied. Michael watched him He ducked under a spell and swung his leg out to trip the wraith with his boot, who knew he was finished. A cloud of purple smoke signaled the wraith’s disappearance after Nathan set him ablaze.

Michael’s cousin He looked around. They were in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. A ladder led to a porthole that would lead to their escape. Michael could taste freedom.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Hit pause to describe and contextualize new settings and characters, then unpause

A crucial principle to remember about action sequences: if it’s not on the page, your readers can’t see it.

When the characters in a movie or TV show run into a new room, the viewer is able to immediately absorb the new surroundings. But that’s not how it works in fiction. If the surroundings aren’t on the page, the reader has no idea where the characters are.

Writers sometimes think they need to wait for a “quiet” moment or for the protagonist to actively survey their surroundings and other characters in order to put physical description on the page. Not so! It’s totally fine to pause the action, describe the new settings, and keep the action moving.

Utilize my post on physical description to make sure you’re capturing the crucial details in a succinct way.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell, as planned.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door and started running, his gait gaining pace, his heart pounding, sweat creasing his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted to his cousin.

Michael started running too, his footsteps echoing.

Nathan heard a wraith’s whispered incantations. He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the dank green ceiling. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath, wondering what would happen next, looking for an escape, knowing they didn’t have time. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He held the torch in front of him like a weapon.

Two wraiths entered the crypt. They floated smoothly a few inches above the ground, their torn robes billowing. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Nathan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He held the torch in front of him like a weapon.

A wraith collapsed. Nathan looked at his torch, quite satisfied. He ducked under a spell and swung his leg out to trip the wraith with his boot. A cloud of purple smoke signaled the wraith’s disappearance after Nathan set him ablaze.

He looked around. They were in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the dank green ceiling. A ladder led to a porthole that would lead to their escape.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Be very clear about who is doing what

Action scenes can definitely be a place to employ style and flair, but when writers try too hard to be coy and overly stylized, they can obscure what is actually happening in the first place.

Most importantly: Don’t prioritize style over being clear about who is doing what. It’s better to be precise than to create fake-feeling payoffs where the hand of the author is way too apparent.

Also, err on the side of describing action in chronological order. When you show the result of an action before the action itself, you create a momentary blip of disorientation for the reader that can really add up if you do it repeatedly.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell, as planned.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door and started running, his gait gaining pace, his heart pounding, sweat creasing his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

Michael started running too, his footsteps echoing.

Nathan heard a wraith’s whispered incantations. He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath, wondering what would happen next, knowing they didn’t have time.

Two wraiths entered the crypt. They floated smoothly a few inches above the ground, their torn robes billowing. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Nathan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He held the torch in front of him like a weapon.

A wraith collapsed. Nathan looked at his torch, quite satisfied. Nathan slammed his torch into the first wraith. It collapsed to the slimy floor. The second wraith raised its skeletal claws and a purple ball of light rocketed toward Nathan. He ducked under a spell it and swung his leg out to trip the wraith it with his boot. The wraith tottered, and Nathan pressed the torch against its robes and set it ablaze. It disappeared into a A cloud of purple smoke signaled the wraith’s disappearance after Nathan set him ablaze.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Connect Point A to Point B

So often writers will show their characters on the move but obscure where they’re coming from and where they’re going. It can easily feel like a bunch of characters teleporting to and fro and materializing out of thin air, rather than having a clear sense of the overall space and how the various characters are moving through it.

It doesn’t take much to establish the Point A to Point B to keep the reader anchored within the scene.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell, as planned.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door and started running down the narrow dark passage outside the cell, his gait gaining pace, his heart pounding, sweat creasing his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

Michael started running too closely behind, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Nathan heard a wraith’s whispered incantations trail them. He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath, wondering what would happen next, knowing they didn’t have time.

Two wraiths emerged from the passageway and entered the crypt. They floated smoothly toward Nathan, hovering a few inches above the ground, their torn robes billowing. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Nathan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He held the torch in front of him like a weapon.

Nathan closed the distance and slammed his torch into the first wraith. It collapsed to the slimy floor. The second wraith raised its skeletal claws and a purple ball of light rocketed toward Nathan. He ducked under it and swung his leg out to trip it with his boot. The wraith tottered, and Nathan pressed the torch against its robes and set it ablaze. It disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Utilize precise verbs and gestures

Few things can bog an action scene down more than a string of generic gestures (sighs, hearts pounding out of chests, etc.) and limp verbs. Unnecessary verbiage will weigh down your descriptions.

Clear out the clutter around those verbs! Instead of “was VERBing” or “started VERBing,” characters can usually just VERB. Choose every word carefully.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell, as planned.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door and started running sprinted down the narrow dark passageway outside the cell, his gait gaining pace, his heart pounding, sweat creasing his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

Michael‘s started running closely behind, his footsteps pounded behind echoing in the hallway.

Nathan heard aA wraith’s whispered incantations trailed them. He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath, wondering what would happen next, knowing they didn’t have time.

Two wraiths emerged from the passageway and entered the crypt. They floated smoothly toward Nathan, hovering a few inches above the ground, their torn robes billowing. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Nathan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He held clutched the torch, ready to strike in front of him like a weapon.

Nathan closed the distance and slammed his torch into the first wraith. It collapsed to the slimy floor. The second wraith raised its skeletal claws and a purple ball of light rocketed toward Nathan. He ducked under it and swung his leg out to trip it with his boot. The wraith tottered, and Nathan pressed the torch against its robes and set it ablaze. It disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Use short, declarative sentences to convey urgency

In order to create a sense of urgency, there’s a pretty simple trick: use short sentences.

It’s not a time to get overly flowery and verbose. Crisp sentences convey a sense of quickness and anticipation, particularly when that represents a departure from the style of more languid scenes.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell, as planned.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door. and He sprinted down the narrow dark passageway outside the cell,. sSweat creasinged his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

Michael’s footsteps pounded behind.

A wraith’s whispered incantations trailed them. He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt. with bBones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath. He wondered ing what would happen next. , knowing tThey didn’t have time.

Two wraiths emerged from the passageway and entered the crypt. They floated smoothly toward Nathan, hovering a few inches above the ground, t Their torn robes billoweding. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Nathan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He clutched the torch, ready to strike.

Nathan closed the distance and slammed his torch into the first wraith. It collapsed to the slimy floor. The second wraith raised its skeletal claws and. aA purple ball of light rocketed toward Nathan. He ducked under it and swung his leg out. The wraith tottered, and. Nathan pressed the torch against its robes and set it ablaze. It disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Weave in how the protagonist is processing new information and deciding what they need to do next

Now we’re getting to the real secret sauce in action scenes: motivations, thought processes, and plans.

Readers connect to a protagonist’s motivations like it’s a north star within the scene. They enable us to contextualize what we’re seeing, help us understand why it matters, and get us invested in the outcome.

Instead of relying on flat gestures like “Sweat creased his brow” or vague thought processes like “He wondered what would happen next,” which don’t really tell us anything, utilize the narrative voice to provide sharper context and more vivid description. Help us understand how the protagonist is processing the scene and what they need to do next.

The narrative voice is your friend and it will make the proceedings feel much more vivid. Watch what happens when it’s clearer what Nathan thinks is happening in the scene:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell, as planned. Just as they’d planned.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door. He sprinted down the narrow dark passageway outside the cell. Sweat creased his brow. He hoped Michael’s bad ankle wouldn’t slow them down. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

Michael’s footsteps pounded behind. Well, he was moving at least.

A wraith’s whispered incantations trailed them. Wraiths? Nathan thought the Dark Lord would have sent orcs to do his dirty work.

He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt. Bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath. He wondered what would happen next. They didn’t have time. If there were wraiths after them, they’d have to fight first.

Two wraiths emerged from the passageway. They floated smoothly toward Nathan a few inches above the ground. Their torn robes billowed. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Nathan couldn’t believe what he was seeing Two wraiths, an imprisoned dragon, and a cousin with a bum ankle. He should have listened to his mother and become a carpenter. He clutched the torch, ready to strike.

Nathan closed the distance and slammed his torch into the first wraith. It collapsed to the slimy floor. The second wraith raised its skeletal claws. A purple ball of light rocketed toward Nathan. He ducked under it and swung his leg out. The wraith tottered. Nathan pressed the torch against its robes and set it ablaze. It disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

They’d done it. Who needed another lousy carpenter anyway? Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Be clear about what’s at stake

So many writers, in an attempt to be “mysterious,” withhold crucial information that would be massively helpful to the reader so they can understand what’s happening and why it matters.

Instead of just being clear what rewards and consequences the protagonist faces, these misguided writers deliver the climax and the context at the same time, which means the reader then has to go back and process what just happened with the new information in mind. It ends up feeling like cheap rug-pulling more than a payoff.

Don’t build mysteries by being vague and playing “neener neener” with your reader, establish what’s at stake from the start (which heightens anticipation) and build the mystery around whether your character will succeed or fail. Show the specific consequences and rewards. Give the reader the context they need to understand what’s happening.

Let’s try that again:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell. Just as they’d planned.

Not good. Merlin said he’d only risk sending a key if Nathan’s dragon Orpheus was in imminent risk of death. Without Orpheus, his townsfolk would be sitting ducks against the Dark Lord’s army of ghouls.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door. He sprinted down the narrow dark passageway outside the cell. He hoped Michael’s bad ankle wouldn’t slow them down. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

Michael’s footsteps pounded behind. Well, he was moving at least.

A wraith’s whispered incantations trailed them. Wraiths? Nathan thought the Dark Lord would have sent orcs to do his dirty work. He didn’t fancy having his soul sucked out of his nose and stumbling around with the undead for all of eternity.

He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt. Bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. All the other humans who had tried their luck against the wraiths. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall. If there were wraiths after them, they’d have to fight first. And he needed to make quick work of them so he could get to the town square before the Dark Lord brought the hammer down.

Two wraiths emerged from the passageway. They floated smoothly toward Nathan a few inches above the ground. Their torn robes billowed. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Two wraiths, an imprisoned dragon, and a cousin with a bum ankle. He should have listened to his mother and become a carpenter. He clutched the torch, ready to strike.

Nathan closed the distance and slammed his torch into the first wraith. It collapsed to the slimy floor. The second wraith raised its skeletal claws. A purple ball of light rocketed toward Nathan. A death spell. He ducked under it and swung his leg out. The wraith tottered. Nathan pressed the torch against its robes and set it ablaze. It disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

Who needed another lousy carpenter anyway? Now he just needed to free Orpheus from the Dark Lord’s elite corps of undead giants. He’d need something better than a torch…

Tying everything together

Look how far we’ve come. We started with this:

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door and started running, his gait gaining pace, his heart pounding, sweat creasing his brow. “Let’s go!” he shouted to his cousin.

Michael, knowing he didn’t have much time to spare, started running too, his footsteps echoing.

The wraiths heard the footfalls as they ran past. Nathan’s cousin saw one wraith and Nathan heard another’s whispered incantations.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall, out of breath, wondering what would happen next, looking for an escape, knowing they didn’t have time. Michael sensed something approaching from behind, and Michael’s cousin couldn’t believe his eyes. Nathan held the torch in front of him like a weapon.

Two wraiths entered, knowing their dark lord would be most displeased if they could not capture their quarry.

A wraith collapsed. Nathan looked at his torch, quite satisfied. Michael watched him duck under a spell and swung his leg out trip the wraith with his boot, who knew he was finished. A cloud of purple smoke signaled the wraith’s disappearance after Nathan set him ablaze.

Michael’s cousin looked around. They were in a massive crypt with bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. A ladder led to a porthole that would lead to their escape. Michael could taste freedom.

They’d done it. Now the wraiths wouldn’t steal their souls and they could finally free the dragon.

Now we have this:

Nathan crouched in a dank locked cell in the Dark Lord’s castle, so small it could barely fit him and his broad-shouldered cousin, Michael. A magical key materialized in the cell.

Not good. Merlin said he’d only risk sending a key if Nathan’s dragon Orpheus was in imminent risk of death. Without Orpheus, his townsfolk would be sitting ducks against the Dark Lord’s army of ghouls.

Nathan unlocked the dungeon door. He sprinted down the narrow dark passageway outside the cell. He hoped Michael’s bad ankle wouldn’t slow them down. “Let’s go!” he shouted.

Michael’s footsteps pounded behind. Well, he was moving at least.

A wraith’s whispered incantations trailed them. Wraiths? Nathan thought the Dark Lord would have sent orcs to do his dirty work. He didn’t fancy having his soul sucked out of his nose and stumbling around with the undead for all of eternity.

He and Michael arrived in a massive crypt. Bones piled high to the mossy green ceiling. All the other humans who had tried their luck against the wraiths. A ladder led to a small porthole that could be their means of escape.

Nathan withdrew a torch from the wall. If there were wraiths after them, they’d have to fight first. And he needed to make quick work of them so he could get to the town square before the Dark Lord brought the hammer down.

Two wraiths emerged from the passageway. They floated smoothly toward Nathan a few inches above the ground. Their torn robes billowed. Menacing cowls obscured all but their glowing red eyes.

Two wraiths, an imprisoned dragon, and a cousin with a bum ankle. He should have listened to his mother and become a carpenter. He clutched the torch, ready to strike.

Nathan closed the distance and slammed his torch into the first wraith. It collapsed to the slimy floor. The second wraith raised its skeletal claws. A purple ball of light rocketed toward Nathan. A death spell. He ducked under it and swung his leg out. The wraith tottered. Nathan pressed the torch against its robes and set it ablaze. It disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

Who needed another lousy carpenter anyway? Now he just needed to free Orpheus from the Dark Lord’s elite corps of undead giants. He’d need something better than a torch…

Like the improved physical description example, the second version is a bit longer, but it’s not pages and pages longer.

We don’t need Nathan and Michael to pause for an extended bout of hollow banter to understand what’s happening and to bog things down. By drawing upon the narrative voice, we keep things moving and stay situated in the scene.

Do you have any favorite tips for writing action scenes? Tell us in the comments!

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Art: Réve d’un exilé by Eugenio Agneni