Writing Violence That Hurts: Creating Fight Scenes That Resonate With Readers

Too often in fiction, violence becomes noise—flashy, fast, and forgettable. Swords swing, bullets fly, and bodies fall without consequence. Think of the ending of every Marvel movie: the heroes gather to fight a faceless horde of enemies. Robots, aliens, whatever.

But real violence leaves scars—not just on the body, but on the soul.

In this post, I’ll explore how to write violence that does more than fill space on the page—violence that leaves a mark.

Writing Violence into a Fight Scene Is Not the Point—But It Has a Point

Let's take a look at a familiar genre: Fantasy. Warriors fight with swords, shields, spears, and staffs. Magic flies, men and women perform incredible feats, and mythical creatures come and go. But why does it often feel flat? Why does all that worldbuilding feel weak and leave no lasting impact?

It's because a sword fight isn’t just a physical encounter—it’s a turning point for the soul.

If all you're doing is describing the action—regardless of how awesome that action may be—you're missing the point. When a character draws blood, especially for the first time, it should change something inside them. Even if they survive the encounter, something else may not: innocence, confidence, faith, or the belief that they’re still a “good person.”

Too often, fiction treats violence as transactional: you fight, you win, you move on—almost like a video game. But real people—especially in the brutal, close-quarter chaos of fantasy combat—don’t walk away unchanged. Some become numb. Some grow callous. Others crumble under guilt or shame. Some are haunted by the faces they see in their dreams.

That emotional impact is where the story truly lives. Maybe your knight kills to protect a comrade, but he still sees the dying eyes of the enemy he struck down every time he goes to bed. Maybe an adventurer survives the melee, only to realize she feels nothing now—no fear, no remorse, just emptiness. Maybe a brutal victory robs your character of the moral high ground they clung to. Whatever the case, readers connect most with the internal cost of the external action.

Violence should pull something out of your character—not just sweat and blood, but truth. What are they willing to do? What are they afraid of becoming? In that emotional aftermath, we find the heartbeat of the story.

Real Combat Is Confusing, Fast, and Ugly—Write Your Fight Scenes the Same

Hollywood has trained us to expect elegance in battle—precise swordplay, slow-motion flourishes, dramatic one-liners delivered mid-duel. They do that because it's visually appealing. Watching a fight scene in the Matrix is like watching a choreographed dance.

But real combat is anything but beautiful. It's chaotic, desperate, and short.

Again, let's look at fantasy-themed combat. Fights shouldn't last long. In a real medieval setting (where most fantasy lives, we'll talk about that in another post), fights were over in seconds, and those that dragged on became brutal grapples in the mud. Helmets blocked vision. Adrenaline blurred thought. Blood made weapons slick and footing treacherous. Many didn’t die from the first wound, but from the slow bleed-out that followed.

When we over-describe the fight scene in our writing and give the reader every little detail so they can see it exactly how we imagined, we lose them. It's too technical, too mechanical, too cold and heartless. It should be visceral and chaotic, heart-pounding and confusing. It should be emotional.

So, when you write combat scenes, lean into the chaos. Characters misjudge swings, lose sight of friends, or can’t even tell who’s winning. That messiness isn’t a flaw—it’s reality.

Books vs. Movies: Why Books Are Better (Sorry Hollywood)

Back to Hollywood and their choreographed fight scenes. Often, the most memorable fights aren't the visceral, gritty ones I'm describing. Instead, it's Neo vs. a hundred Agent Smiths. It's Ip Man vs. 10 Black Belts. It's Chuck Norris vs. Jet Li.

Again, because Hollywood is visual. Books are not.

But movies can't give you a glimpse into the character's psyche like a book can. We can't really know what Iron Man was thinking when he fought Thanos, or what Neo was thinking when he fought Agent Smith. We get hints, but not an actual look into their soul.

In a book, the reader is inside the character. Embrace the emotion in the moment. What's the experienced knight thinking as their body moves on its own from years of training? Or what's the nervous newcomer thinking as they flail wildly at the enemy? What does that fear or panic or confidence feel like?

Just like embracing the confusion gives a more realistic fight scene, embracing the emotion will give a more intimate one. Writing this way forces the reader into the character’s body. They hear the clang of metal, the labored breathing, the roar of fear in the ears. They don’t get a god’s-eye view of the battlefield—they get the claustrophobic experience of a character with a sword (or bow or staff) and no guarantees.

And that's a memorable fight scene.