The Curse of The Competent Fighter (Why Characters Need To Struggle)

I have a preference, both as a writer and as a reader, for competent heroes. I love characters like John Wick, who set themselves on a course of destruction and won't stop until they've killed their target. Characters like Rambo, who refuse to stay down no matter what you do to them, or Luke Cage who can walk right through a hail of gunfire without so much as slowing.

However, if a character is really good at fighting, it can ironically get really boring to watch them fight. Because unless they're going up against a truly skilled opponent, or someone equal in power to themselves, then the audience knows who's going to win before the first punch is thrown. Unless you've crippled your lead in some way, like poisoning them, wearing them down with several previous fights, or out-and-out doing serious damage to them, then there's just nothing exciting about watching yet another round of goons get their teeth busted in, or catching bullets with their brain pans.

Case in point: The Original Glass Cannon

That doesn't mean you should stop writing stories about ex-special forces badasses, mutant brawlers, and unstoppable assassins. But you need to remember that the action scenes for such characters are the icing, not the cake.

Struggle Matters (And Makes Stories Interesting)

When you write a story, your protagonist has to be up against some kind of challenge. If the difficulty they're facing is something they can deal with rather easily, then where is the tension going to come from?

Let's go back to Luke Cage for a moment. A wronged man out for justice, he gets embroiled in the doings of organized crime in Harlem. However, while Luke's initial brushes with criminals show they're comically outmatched (given that Luke is bulletproof, blade proof, and has super strength), the real question is not, "How is Luke going to beat up these goons?" The real question is how can one man, even one man who's indestructible, fight such a shadowy, entrenched foe? How does he get to the heart of the criminal empire, and rip it out, without breaking the law himself, or getting a bunch of people hurt? How can one rock stop the tide, even if that tide can't hurt him?

The heavy stuff that makes a narrative interesting, you know?

Sure, the bad guys eventually use super weapons that can actually hurt Luke, because this is a comic book, but the point of the story isn't the arms race between criminals and a meta-human enforcer. That's just a framing device for those other issues that make Luke's story more compelling.

Condensed into a single sentence, the lesson here is, "Make your heroes struggle."

You see this in all the great (or even just good) stories with combat-capable protagonists. John Rambo might be a one-man-army, but he cannot put his personal demons into a stranglehold. Shane knows he could cut down the gang of toughs if he chooses, but that as soon as he picks up his guns that his life as a peaceful man will be over. Sam Spade packs a mean right hook, and can shoot with the best of them, but he has to figure out where all the players are before he knows who to hit, and who to threaten.

Now, you need to let your lead take the gloves off a few times throughout the story, both to establish how badass they are, and because it can be satisfying to watch a battlefield hardass do their thing. However, the actions scenes need to establish something that's going on in the story, and move the plot along. Because if a combat does nothing but show off your choreography, then your audience is going to get pretty bored, pretty quick. Worse, it can begin to feel like textual masturbation after a while, and no one wants to see that.

So, to wrap up, you need to make your protagonist work against their strengths in order to make your story feel like there's a challenge. That doesn't mean you need to completely negate those strengths, but you do need to ensure your protagonist's skills or abilities don't let them cake walk to the end goal. They don't need to be bloody and limping, but sometimes that might be just what you need to add a bit of strawberry sauce to your cake to finish it off.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing thoughts. If you liked them, and want to see more, why not support me by heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron? $1 a month is all it takes, and you get free books as a thank you from me. Lastly, if you haven't followed me on Facebook, Tumblr, or Twitter yet, now would be a good time to start.

What Does The Weapon Say About The Warrior? Tips For Writing Fighters in Your Fiction

We love fighters. From knights in shining armor, to scoundrels in space, to special forces soldiers coming out of retirement for one, last mission, we cannot get enough of them. Even if they're in a supporting role, like Bruce Lee's Kato or Anthony Simcoe's Dargo, we can't help but fall in love with our warrior characters. Whether you're writing epic high fantasy, gritty modern realism, operatic sci-fi, or any of a dozen other genres, though, I've got a tip for you.

Let your weapons do the talking.

It's worked pretty well for me, so far.

What Do Your Weapons Say About Your Warriors?

Weapons can say a lot about the people who wield them, and you should use that as a way to show your audience things about these characters. For example, the handsome young lord who comes to court may have the curling locks and easy smile of a dilettante, but the straightforward sword he carries shows long, hard use. Does your hardened mercenary carry an army-issue weapon, insinuating a history and comfort with the weapon, or does he pack a custom pistol made and weighted for his hand alone? Does your character carry a big stick, or a small knife?

Or something you never see coming?

By describing your character's weapons, you are subtly telling your readers things about them. Hard-hitting weapons like the greatsword, an M-60 machine gun, or a warhammer, suggest that this person is about power over finesse. A well-used weapon, like a knife that's been honed over and over again to a razor edge, suggests that your character is comfortable with the weapon, as well as the inherent violence of it. Someone who carries a pompous weapon, like a gilded court sword, or an over-sized Desert Eagle handgun, may value flash over function.

You aren't directly saying these things, but readers will pick up on the clues if you throw them down.

Let's use some more direct examples. Lord Aaron Vox is a noted duelist. He goes nowhere without his blade, and he's never shy about tossing down a gauntlet when he feels slighted or challenged. His sword is a light, short-bladed rapier made for a quick draw, and a fast thrust. The hand guard is intricate and gilded, but provides complete protection for his grip. The weapon, like the man wielding it, seems pretentious at a glance, but is deadly just beneath the surface.

What about Smiling Jill Jones? A pretty little thing, she keeps a five-inch flick knife up her sleeve in case she needs it, and she's been said to leave her mark freely. At a glance what you have is an attractive girl, perhaps with a bit too much party in her. A hidden weapon implies there's more to her than meets the eye, and a switchblade says that she's dangerous, not shy about illegalities, and that she can go from flirty to deadly at the touch of a button.

The Marks Weapons Leave on Their Wielders

Even if your fighters aren't packing the tools of their trade in every scene, their weapons will leave a mark on them. Other warriors will recognize it in them, and even people who haven't lived a dangerous life will feel something unusual about these characters.

Take that, and run with it.

There was just something a little odd about him...

It doesn't have to be something as blatant as dueling scars along the cheek, either. For example, if someone has put in hours upon hours of swordplay, that's going to cause blisters. Those blisters will turn into callouses, and anyone who shakes that character's hand will recognize those marks. Someone who's used to carrying a gun on his or her hip will have a certain walk, and a certain twitch toward the weapon's location whether or not the character is actively carrying it. Heavy weapons, like maces and axes, are going to lead to increased muscular development in the wrist, arms, and shoulders as users develop more and more power. A lifetime spent around firearms could result in hearing loss, and someone who's spent a long time on the other end of a scope may have a particular thousand-yard stare that puts a shiver through you.

All of these tics developed over time are ways to subtly hint at a character's nature and skills, without making the reader sit through an unnecessary fight scene for your warrior to show off. These kinds of descriptions work as build-up, hinting that when the gloves finally do come off, the fight is going to be well-worth watching.

Also, if you're looking for what to do when it's time to flick the safety off, check out Author's Fight Club: Rules For Writing Better Fight Scenes.

Thanks for stopping in! If you'd like to support me and my blog, then toss some coins in my coffers by going to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron today! If you want to make sure you don't miss any of my updates, then simply follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter.