Sci-Fi/Fantasy

Art and science fiction (or even fantasy) writing are not often mentioned in the same sentence, which is a shame. Even medieval monks knew that when stories and pictures are combined, they can become something magical, intriguing, and alive. Today I am going to explore some of the most famous combinations of art and science fiction or fantasy, and suggest ways that you artist-writers out there (I know I’m not the only one!) can combine your passions.

To me, one of the most successful fusions of sci-fi/fantasy and art is the young adult novel Abarat by Clive Barker. While Barker’s story of an ordinary Minnesota girl transported to a world of 25 islands (Hours) stuck in time is quite stimulating, it is his colorful, surrealist oil paintings that make it remarkable. According to his website (thebooksofabarat.com), Barker spent four years on over 300 paintings before ever putting pencil to paper, more than 100 of which can be found in Abarat (which is the first book of a series). He was inspired by imagery in non-traditional formats, including the French Canadian Cirque de Soleil circus. That means that if you want to follow in his footsteps, you have to keep an eye open for intriguing images wherever you go, and be prepared to draw or paint without knowing all the details of a world beforehand.

Another illustrator of sci-fi/fantasy that I have always admired is Mary GrandPré, the artist behind the pictures in the Harry Potter books. According to an article by Scholastic, (http://content.scholastic.com/browse/article.jsp?id=5825), she has been drawing when she was five, and though she began by copying the works of others, she quickly learned that the most effective method was to draw the familiar, everyday things around her (in fact, she used herself as a starting point for the novels’ illustrations of Harry!) “’That’s what I tell kids to do,’ GrandPré said. ‘I tell them to draw what’s around them, and keep little notebooks and sketches. Draw whatever you see. It doesn’t have to be anything big or beautiful.’” She also advises young illustrators to be free in what they draw and enjoy the process – it is not as much fun if you’re following someone else’s vision, especially when you are drawing sci-fi/fantasy, which is supposed to center around your own imagination.

This week, create a drawing or a short piece of writing (whichever appeals to you most as a starting point). Then translate it across materials – describe your illustration in a story or paint or draw a scene from your writing.

Aliens are perhaps unique among sci-fi/fantasy creatures for being almost as plausible as you or I. Thirty-four percent of Americans believe that UFOs are real – and 1 in 7 believes they have seen one with their own eyes. Here are the three most popular categories of aliens in sci-fi/fantasy; whether or not they exist beyond novels and movies is for you to decide.

Type 1: The Unidentified Flying Object
Often the result of a suspected government cover-up, this is the kind of alien that people in the real world claim to see most often. Strange objects have been spotted in the skis since ancient times, usually described as angels or supernatural omens by civilizations before the invention of the telescope. UFOs became popular in the modern era during WWII with rumors of European “ghost rockets.” While this kind of alien has many possible applications in fiction, it unusually morphs into one of the following two categories as a story progresses.

Type 2: The Green Bobblehead
The term “little green men” (originally, somewhat ironically, used to describe Martians) became popular during the 1950s, after two rural Kentucky men described an encounter with such a being. With their smooth, grey-green skin and oversized eyes and ears, no human can resist the charm of a green bobblehead (or “grey,” in believers’ circles). E.T. is perhaps the most famous example of this kind of alien, though specimens abound in everything from Indiana Jones to Men in Black. More likely to be friendly to humans than UFOs or AIs.

Type 3: The Apocalyptic Invader
The most feared alien incarnation, the apocalyptic invader is also the most common in popular fiction. Though AIs can take many forms – from plant-like (think “Little Shop of Horrors”) to reptilian to humanoid – they usually share some basic traits. Many times, they want to colonize our world for their own uses (either to replace a home planet that has run out of natural resources or as a weapons base for attacking other species), pack substantial firepower, and possess supernatural abilities like above-human strength and the capacity to read minds. Occasionally, however, an AI is deceptively small – something like a deadly bacteria or nanobot.

Reading assignment for the week: War of the Worlds, by H.G. Wells. Just make sure to remember that aliens aren’t really attacking the earth.

Note: Since I couldn’t post at all last week, I am posting twice this week to make up for my truancy. The post beneath this one revisits my “Ten Rules of Magic” to respond to the comments that some of you have made.

A few weeks ago, I challenged you – and myself – to get involved in NaNoWriMo. In that spirit, I bring you the first two pages of the novel I am currently working on. To share your writing or discuss your progress with others, check out this thread on the Teen Ink Bulletin Board: http://www.teenink.com/talk/showthread.php?s=&threadid=22871 (I promise to make a thread more specific to sci-fi/fantasy once my bulletin board registration gets approved!). And now, an excerpt from The Twilightlands…

“Apprentices up! Come on, let’s go. Move it!”
Nate Varoski groaned and rolled over in his bunk. It felt like only minutes had passed since he had fallen asleep. Surely it couldn’t be six o’clock already? He cracked open an eye, squinting at the silver dial on his nightstand. The short blue hand pointed to the three.
“What’s going on, Marti?” he asked the boy in the bed next to his.
“The light degree is off again. There are Nightsiders throwing fits in the street!” The apprentice’s voice held an edge of anticipation. “Maybe we’ll finally get to see some action!”
“That’s enough!” barked the apprentice Overseer. “Stop chattering like a bunch of old women and get dressed!”
Nate reluctantly peeled off his sleeping shirt and pulled a midnight blue training tunic out of the chest at the foot of his cot. Like shadows in the night, fleet and sure and light. The nightingale motto drifted through his sluggish thoughts. “The light degree is off again?” he whispered, once he was sure the Overseer couldn’t hear.
“That’s right.” Marti’s tan skin flushed pink with excitement. “Check your wristwatch.”
With a hurried glance towards the Overseer, Nate reached into the bottom of his chest and retrieved the watch. Nightingale apprentices were supposed to wear their Light Sensitive Wristwatches, or LSWs, at all times, but Nate had begun to take his off after-hours once the light degree had started to rise. It was almost impossible to sleep when an omen of impending doom kept ticking in your ear.
Nate felt an uneasy shiver crawl up his back as he snapped the band around his wrist. His watch was a near replica of the clock on his nightstand, with one obvious difference. In addition to the two blue hands that measured Standard Time was a small, black hand that now hovered near the seven. No, wait - seven? He rubbed his eyes sleepily. When he looked back down, the LSW had begun to beep softly, the face of the dial pulsing with an intentionally alarming crimson light.
“That can’t be right. Marti, is your LSW registering a –“
“Seven?” The other boy nodded. “Yep. It’s not a malfunction.”
Nate swore under his breath and hurried to fasten his sandals. He had never heard of it being so light on the Nightside before. The regular nightingales must be overwhelmed.
“All right boys, time to go! Hope you’re dressed, or the Marshal won’t be amused.”
The old nightingale pushed open the barrack doors and led the disheveled apprentice Flock outside. Nate blinked as the too-light air prickled against the bare skin of his arms and blurred the edges of his vision. The sky was an unhealthy bluish-grey - far from the ideal midnight black. His wings bristled as his dark blue feathers pulled in tightly around his body like a protective cocoon. Nightingales did better than most Nightsiders in semi-darkness, but even their thick copper skin would break into a painful rash after too long of an exposure.
The meeting hall was only a few yards from the apprentice dormitory, but it felt more like miles to the young nightingales who stumbled thankfully into the darkened room. Four small torches, one at each corner of the hall, cast shadows on rows of long wooden benches. Although nightingales possessed acute night vision, they still required a trace of light to focus their eyes. Fire, like the moon and the stars, was one of the few forms of luminosity Nightsiders could tolerate.
“Take a seat,” bellowed the Overseer. “The Marshal is on his way.” A ripple of disgruntled muttering swept through the Flock. Slowly, the nightingales separated into groups of three or four to discuss the night’s events.
Nate and Marti sat down next to a cluster of apprentices huddled near the podium. A slim nightingale girl cast a wary eye in their direction, then moved over to allow them into the group. “Hello Nate. Lovely time to be dragged out of bed, don’t you think?”
“They’d better have a good reason why the regular night’ngales couldn’t handle it,” grumbled an apprentice from one of the senior Flocks.
“I heard there was a riot down on Oleander,” said Marti, a glint in his pale blue eyes.
“Oh, nonsense. You just like making up stories.” The apprentice girl glared at Marti, who stuck his tongue out in reply.
“It’s worse than I ever thought I’d see it, Kira,” Nate whispered. “My skin started burning just on the walk over here. Imagine what the more light sensitive Nightsiders must be going through.”
“That’s why it’s our job to take care of ‘em.” Marti’s chest swelled with pride. “Like shadows in the night, er…something something light.”
“You can’t even get the words to our motto right,” said Kira. “I doubt very much that you could take care of anyone.”
“It’s all those damn Dawnies’ fault,” huffed the older apprentice. “That’s what my pa says. Do away with the Dawnies and we’d have all the darkness we could ever want.”
“Quiet down!” roared the Overseer. “I don’t want the Marshal to think I’m raising Flocks of crows.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Nate muttered. An uneasy hush was already beginning to fall over the meeting hall, a silence that rode on the memories of snapped belt buckles or the damp smack of wood on flesh. Or faces pushed in the mud at two in the morning. Nate’s hands clenched unconsciously as he watched the Marshal’s shiny brown loafers strike a measured path towards the podium.
“Good evening, apprentices.” The jagged scar on the Marshal’s left cheek coiled and jumped like a spring when he spoke. Was it weariness that added an extra rasping note to his voice, or merely impatience? “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been woken up at this hour. Although, seeing the present condition outside and knowing how apprentices gossip, I’m sure many of you already have some idea.”
A group of young nightingales at the back of the hall chuckled uneasily. The Marshal glared at the crowd, his strict, emotionless gaze instantly smothering the hint of nervous laughter.
“The Nightside has become steadily lighter over the past few months,” he continued, clearing his throat, “but today, for the first time, we are officially in a state of emergency. Those of you who actually wear your LSWs –“ his watery grey eyes met Nate’s blue ones, and he gave the boy a tiny, malicious grin – “know the light degree is at a level more often seen in the Twilightlands. Nightsiders all across the city are suffering, and panicking as a result. Earlier today there was a riot downtown, near Oleander Street. Several nightingales were injured while trying to hold back the crowd.”
“I told you so,” whispered Marti.
“Be quiet, Stupid!” hissed Kira, glancing towards the ruddy faced Overseer.
“I have decided to discharge you before things get too far out of hand,” said the Marshal. “Go back to your homes and calm down your families. Tell them whatever it is they need to hear. This situation will be dealt with,” he pounded his fist against the podium for emphasis, “but we cannot handle widespread panic among our own civilians.”
There was a moment of silence, and then the hall burst into discord.

That’s all for now. I hope to have a website soon with a synopsis, etc. so stay tuned…

Two weeks ago, I posted a list of what I thought were the ten most important rules governing magic in fantasy. When I wrote them, I was well aware that they (as any “top ten” list) might spark some debate – and I’m glad I was right. Here are some of the problems you identified and how I would address them:

You can’t take the magic out of most fantasy stories and expect to be left with the same story. I agree completely, and I wasn’t meaning to imply that magic should be inserted into a plot as an “after thought” to make it more interesting. Rule #1 was more than anything a reaction to the stories I have read where the plot was completely devoid of reality – characters were inconsistent, events jumped around and did not follow logically from one another, massive hurdles were overcome in a matter of minutes – and the author relied on deux ex machina conventions of magic to hold things together. If you removed the magic from, say, Sabriel, you wouldn’t have the same story, but you would still have a logical plot arch: girl is disrupted from peaceful life by disaster, girl must develop dormant talents to challenge seemingly impossible odds, girl discovers new, exciting places and makes new friends, girl finds a way to defeat evil, etc. Now, I would be very interested in reading a story where magic is integral to this kind of very basic story structure – the harder a rule is to break (and I agree that many of my original rules allow plenty of room for exceptions), the more interesting the story when it is broken successfully.

Protagonists or antagonists can go without magic as long as they have something equally powerful at their disposal. Agreed, but going back to my previous point, some authors make magic so powerful that there is nothing else in their fantasy world that can logically counter it. I personally believe that magic in every fantasy story should involve a price or weakness that characters can exploit, but be careful of writing yourself into a corner where a character just “happens” to discover this weakness without it being hinted at previously.

Magic does not always have to be morally neutral. This rule sprang from a personal philosophical preference more than anything else. Nothing in the real world is absolutely good or evil. Even things like (to take an extreme example) illicit drugs can be used in some cases to treat medical illnesses, and sweetness can be cloying if you get too much of it at once. So what is a moral absolute, really? By making magic purely good or evil, you are destroying this nuance. There are some interesting moral implications in a story where magic only corrupts and people still choose to use it, but in my opinion it is far more interesting when magic causes both ill and good effects (for example, a character must kill an innocent to save their companion through magic).

Any rule can be broken for the better with enough creativity. This week, write a story that violates one or more of my original rules.

Magic is ubiquitous in fantasy – much like advanced technology in science fiction – and for good reason. Spells and potions can add intrigue and complexity to an otherwise everyday narrative. When they are used improperly, however, they can destroy reader credibility, erase drama and suspense, and punch holes in your plot. Want to wield magic like a pro? Masterful sorcery begins with these ten simple rules (most apply to technology too, sci-fi writers):

10. When the good guys have magic, the antagonists must have it, too. Conflicts are not exciting if they are one-sided or if the outcome already seems determined. Whatever skills you give to your protagonists must therefore be countered by equal (if different) abilities in your villains.

9. Magic, like any other force of nature, must follow consistent rules. Decide how magic operates in your world, including its limitations, before you start writing. Every violation will be just as startling to your readers as a sudden inversion of the laws of gravity in realistic fiction.

8. Magic takes practice. Could you ride a bike or do calculus perfectly the first time you tried? Probably not. The same is true of magic – to do it well takes practice, and the first few attempts will most likely end in disaster for your characters.

7. Magical skills should not appear all of the sudden, just when a character needs them. The technical term for this is “deus ex machina,” or “God from a machine,” and it is among the worst violations of rules eight and nine. If you find yourself breaking this rule, you must go back and at least hint at where such abilities might have come from.

6. Magic must come from somewhere, even if its origins are unknown to the characters. In Harry Potter magic was inherited, in some stories it comes from Gods or aliens or another dimension or natural materials (similar to radioactivity), but it should never just exist without any explanation (even if you don’t include that explanation in the actual narrative).

5. Magic is not inherently good or evil. This is perhaps the most contended of these ten rules (the idea of “black” or “white” magic is fairly common, after all), and the one for which there is the greatest possibility of acceptable exception. BUT in most cases, it should be the nature of your characters that determines whether their magic is “good” or “evil,” not some property of the magic itself (or magic should run a spectrum from good to evil that all characters can access).

4. Every spell comes with a price. If your characters fought hand to hand, you would not expect them to escape without (at least) a few bruises. The same must be true for magic, whether those “bruises” manifest themselves as physical exhaustion, emotional corruption, or unintended consequences.

3. Magic should never make a character invincible. The easiest way to draw all of the suspense out of your story in a second is to violate this rule. Now, you can make a character close to invincible (e.g. Dr. Manhattan), as long as you factor in all the mental and physical implications that brings.

2. If a scene or story line would read better without magic – if it would be clearer, cleaner, or more interesting – take the magic out. And:

1. The story must still work if you remove every trace of magic from the plot. These two points really go together. Magic should never be more than the “spice” of a story on the “meat” of things like plot, setting, action, character, and moral dilemmas. When so many fantasy stories have magic, it takes more than a pinch of fairy dust to make yours stand out.

Happy writing!

Halloween, the sci-fi/fantasy junkie’s most beloved holiday, is only five days away. To me, Halloween is a time to take risks and let your unconventional side roam free. In today’s post, therefore, I am not only going to challenge you to explore your own writing through a prompt, but also to get involved in the most thrilling event in a prolific writer’s year: National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). From the NaNoWriMo website (www.nanowrimo.org):

National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved. In 2007, we had over 100,000 participants. More than 15,000 of them crossed the 50k finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists.

Now, I realize that not everyone has the time (or even the inclination) to write 50k words in 30 days, so my challenge to you is to write the first chapter of a novel by the end of November. The official NaNoWriMo values quantity over quality, but I think the most important thing it offers is an opportunity to begin to unleash your bottled-up creativity. To foster the communal spirit of National Novel Writing Month, you could start a club at your school or join up with a bunch of friends to meet once a week during November to write. You may find that you enjoy it so much that you want to keep working on your novel through December and beyond!

At the end of November, I will try to post a novel chapter of my own and find a place where readers of this blog can share their work (the Teen Ink bulletin boards may be one contender).

Ok, now on to the Halloween prompt!
It is a dark and stormy Halloween night. Too old (or cool) for trick-or-treating, you find yourself curled up on the couch in front of a classic horror movie. Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. Nervously, you tiptoe across the room and open it. No one is there. When you turn back towards the living room, the TV is gone and something sinister is sitting at the bottom of the stairs…

Although mummies can be traced back to ancient Egypt, the concept of them as zombie-like monsters is a 20^th century fantasy. Accordingly, this week’s Creature Feature will be presented in a 20^th century format – the celebrity television tell-all interview!

Interviewer: First, let me thank you for traveling all the way from the Valley of the Kings to meet with me today.
Tut: It’s my pleasure. One of the perks of being embalmed for 3,000 years is a resistance to jet lag.
I: Fascinating. I’ve always been interested in the whole embalming process – just the idea of preserving a dead body has always seemed a little strange.
T: It’s really quite simple. After death, priests, with Anubis’s help, remove your organs and place them in canopic jars. They fill your skull with resin, to keep you smelling your best, then dry you out with natron – something like salt – and wrap you in white linen to protect you from the elements. After about 70 days, you are ready for burial.
I: Excuse me for seeming nosy here, but is it true that your brain was removed…?
T: But of course! Everyone knows that the brain serves no useful function in the body. During the embalming process, priests removed my brain through my nose with special hooks.
I: I see…But why go to all that trouble simply to preserve a corpse?
T: Ancient Egyptian culture focused heavily on the afterlife. We believed that if a person’s body was not preserved after death, he or she would be condemned to wander for eternity in the next world.
I: How interesting. Along a similar vein, I’ve heard that Egyptian tombs are pretty elaborate. What use does a mummy have for books and jewels?
T: The objects in a person’s tomb serve two distinct purposes. Funerary literature, called “pyramid texts” for pharaohs and “coffin texts” for everyone else, was designed to help Egyptians pass the trials of admittance to the underworld. “The Book of the Dead” is the most well-known example. Everyday objects, including plates, bowls, combs, and jewelry, were added to tombs so that the dead could use them in the afterlife – which is really quite similar to life before death.
I: So they tax the daylights out of you there, too?
T: …
I: Uh – moving on….As you may be aware, some rumors have sprung up in recent times –
T: Not this again…
I: – about mummies that rise from the grave for revenge or to curse the living. Maybe you can set the record straight.
T: Look, I’ve heard all these outrageous allegations before. It began when some of your archeologists discovered that we had been buried with our mouths open. We just wanted to be able to breathe in the underworld, but you had to go and make up silly legends of mummy monsters. Now I can’t walk past a cinema or a Halloween store without seeing a cruel caricature of myself and my fellow mummies.
I: And the curses?
T: What can I say? People will believe almost anything. It’s only a coincidence that those explorers died after opening my tomb. You have no legal evidence of any wrongdoing on my part!
I: There you have it, folks – straight from the mummy’s mouth. Join us next week for an exciting two part expose: “Big Foot and Lock Ness: A Forbidden Love Revealed.”

I have always been intrigued by literature that weaves elements of traditional fantasy – magic, monsters, and apparitions – through what seem on the surface to be entirely realistic narratives. More subtle than frankengenre-ism, this style of writing leaves the reader unsure of what is pure imagination, embellishment, or merely unlikely truth. Beginning with folklore and progressing through the “magical realism” of the works of some South American authors in the mid-20th century (Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude” is one example), this genre invokes a child-like joy of finding the remarkable in the mundane. Following this theme, today’s prompts are designed to help you integrate your every-day experiences as an author with your wildest fictional creations.

• Think about any event in your life. It can be something significant, a once-in-a-millennia type of experience, or an example of a routine that you follow almost every day. Write a short story about this event that incorporates elements of fantasy to emphasize its most important aspects. For example, instead of missing the bus and getting rained on, you could describe missing the bus and being chased by hungry shadow-creatures to your school.

• Write a description of the town or city where you live. Begin with obvious, incontrovertible statements (“City X is in state Y”) and progress to complete fabrications (“the grass in city X eats pets and small children; dogs barking at night are alarmed victims of man-eating vegetation”). If you want to make this a little more elaborate, you can write it from the point of view of a new resident of the city or an FBI agent who is investigating strange claims.

• Have you ever threatened to do something that you would never actually do because it is illegal/immoral/defies the laws of physics (“I’d like to kill that person” is one obvious example)? Imagine that you actually followed through on your threat. What would have happened?

Have fun writing!

In sci-fi/fantasy as in real life, the highest passions of humanity (or any other race) are concentrated in love, politics, and warfare. Few things can excite a reader more than a tactically skillful, hard fought battle between the forces of good and evil. While I am no expert on military strategy, I can give you a few insights on how to write an effective large scale battle from my experiences as a writer and a reader. If there is anything that irks you about mainstream sci-fi/fantasy battles or that you’ve found helpful in your own fighting exploits, please leave a comment!

Tactics
The range of military tactics that have been used throughout history is nearly endless, so I will stick to the basics. In most large-scale battles, the goal is not (as it is usually portrayed in fantasy) to obliterate your enemy; rather, it is to starve, frustrate, evade, or spook him into submission. There is no need to have your protagonist’s army march in a frontal assault against the Dark Guard when an ambush or siege would do just as well with a much lower casualty rate. Now, granted, a month-long wait at the antagonist’s citadel is not nearly as dramatic as the forces of light and dark clashing across a sun-kissed field, but if you are determined to portray a traditional battle in your writing, be prepared to deal with some traditional unpleasantness. Depending on how technologically advanced your characters are, hundreds, thousands, or possibly even more will die. At least half of the dead will be allied with your protagonist, including major or sympathetic characters (spare them and risk breaking your reader’s suspension of disbelief). Your heroes will witness things that sicken them and permanently change them in ways that are not always entirely desirable….

Weapons
Most of the confusion involving weapons in sci-fi/fantasy can be resolved through common sense. Arrows fired into the heart of a raging battle cannot distinguish between friend and foe; this is why the archers of opposing armies traditionally fired at one another before a battle began in earnest. Cannons and catapults, while useful, cannot be reloaded very quickly and are prone to breaking. Guns, if modeled on those in use before the 19th century, are notoriously inaccurate. It is extremely difficult to (squeamish readers skip this part!) cut someone’s head, limb, or mount’s head or limb off in a single blow. In medieval executions, it sometimes took three or four attempts to achieve this end - and that was without all of the confusion of a battlefield.

Contrasts
No matter how ugly or dirty the fighting becomes, it should always be clear which army represents Good (your protagonist’s!). This is trickier in practice than it sounds in principle. Your protagonist’s army must fight valiantly to win the respect of your reader, but it must also fight fairly and mercifully to gain his or her sympathy. If possible, your protagonist should never kill innocents or civilians in battle (even if that stretches believability). He or she should feel some remorse after killing enemy soldiers, especially during his or her first battle.

This week, write a short battle scene that incorporates fantastic elements while maintaining a basis in military reality. Have fun!

As much as we might enjoy reading about “happy little elves,” conflict and battle are fundamental to science fiction and fantasy, and have been since their inception in mythology (if anyone here has read Beowulf, you’ll know what I mean). But writing battle scenes does not always come naturally to those of us who have spent our lives wielding a pen instead of a sword. Like the rehearsal of a well choreographed dance, timing, physical movement, and mental reactions are all crucial to an exciting and believable battle scene. Today’s post will discuss how these elements come into play in small or one-on-one skirmishes. Next week, we will explore specific considerations for major battles between larger groups.

Timing
Successful battle scenes are those that keep the reader in suspense. Readers should feel as breathless as the characters themselves as they wait for an enemy to strike or desperately parry an attack. If the tension drops for a prolonged period of time, the feeling of danger will dissipate and your reader will lose interest. This is where pacing comes in. Everything in a fight should move quickly, hovering on the edge of moving too fast for the reader to follow. Sentences should be short and to the point. Elaborate description should be omitted whenever possible in favor of quick sketches of characters’ (often jumbled) impressions and sensations. Moments of stillness can be very effective in a fight scene, but only if the emotional tension is maintained - through anxiety at waiting for a hidden enemy to strike again, pain at discovering a fresh wound, fear for the safety of companions, etc. Always include an element of the unexpected to keep your characters (and your reader) a little off balance; rarely should a protagonist feel completely in control during a fight.

Movement
Experience, size, and physical and mental conditions (both temporary and permanent) all affect how a character moves in battle. As anyone who has ever studied a Martial Art knows, it is much more difficult to coordinate your hands, feet, and intentions than it looks. Inexperienced fighters (as many sci-fi/fantasy protagonists are) move slowly and clumsily, and are almost as likely to trip over themselves as they are to hit their aggressor. Swords and other weapons, while not nearly as heavy in reality as those depicted in some fantasy novels, are cumbersome and awkward to wield unless you have trained for many months or years to master them. Physical size also plays a role in movement and balance. Thanks to the law of inertia, larger people cannot move from rest or change direction as fast as those who are smaller. The same is true for weapons - there’s no such thing as a quick swipe with a broadsword without magical intervention. And if your character has any extra appendages, like wings or a tail, you will need to think about how they will help or hinder his or her balance and agility. Finally, keep in mind that some conditions and circumstances - like having traveled miles on horseback or not eaten for three days or even fighting in the darkness - will change how well your character can react and retaliate.

Thought
In battle (and elsewhere), characters’ thoughts should mirror the pace of the scene. That means they should probably be fast, panicked, and not entirely coherent. It’s okay (and often even expected) for your character’s thoughts and actions to be irrational during a battle, as long as he or she remains relatively focused on the immediate danger and strategies for surviving it. Any conversations between characters should likewise be basic and concise - no blocks of dialogue! Long, contemplative moral discussions can come later.