A Is for Action

by Dan Alatorre

  Nobody wants that.

  So…

  Your action scenes will read differently from your other scenes because you will be focusing on being intense or fast-paced. And your reader will see that and appreciate it.

  They’re different than what we usually write so we need to spend a little more time on them – but if you spend that time and make a few drafts and show it to other authors whose input you trust, it will turn out well.

  Layering In A Car Chase Or Any Action Scene

  Let’s recap briefly.

  It’s best to map out – in your head, on paper, in a separate Word file, somewhere – lay out the broad strokes of what happens. Say you have a speeding car roll over down a hill. Make a little outline of the main things that need to be shown to the reader:

  The car gets hit, rolls down a hill, bursts into flames.

  Easy, right! Okay, so far so good.

  Then you might sit down with a video recorder or tape recorder or your cell phone recording you, and describe out loud to yourself what you’d see – in any order, as you think of it. The reason to do that is speed. Capture the ideas as they come to you. Most people can’t type as fast as they think of stuff. I can’t. But a recorder knows no speed, so you can free associate your ideas in any order, and they’re all getting onto paper. Eventually. Some typing may be necessary.

  Now, when you do the rewrite – when you organize it from a sprawling, stream-of-consciousness mess into an organized, coherent (but probably still crappy) first draft of a scene – you do a second pass and shorten the sentences wherever possible.

  And wherever possible means everywhere in an action scene.

  Why Short Sentences?

  We writers get excited and try to put things into one long sentence to show the speed at which they happen. That tends to make the reader have to think about it more, slowing things down. In an action scene, when we’re excited and reading faster, our brain needs it to come to us in smaller, choppier sentences (or more commas) so it can digest them faster.

  Funny how that works.

  Say you’re driving on the highway. Are the road signs very lengthy or very short? Short. REALLY short. “Airport Next Right.” At highway speed, we need it as brief as possible TO DIGEST IT QUICKLY.

  More on that in a sec, but the point is made, so bear with me.

  Shorter sentences will usually read better, but only for action scenes. Chop it up and it will read faster. (It will look a little odd to you, but we readers know you don’t write everything that way.)

  A friend recently created an action scene with some sentences that wouldn’t be bad in normal writing, but that were a bit long for an action scene.

  One car gets hit by another car, goes out of control, down a river bank, and into the water. That’s what’s going on as we analyze the upcoming sentences. I told it to you that way just now to get it processing in your head and not let you get too involved in the action of the scene. Here’s how the lines unfolded in the original manuscript:

  “The SUV backed off but hit her again at an angle, and she lost control of the wheel. Her car crossed the oncoming traffic lane and down an embankment leading to a river. It bounced over the land while she tried in vain to stop it.”

  It reads pretty good, right?

  But does it read as action? Or as description?

  Hard to tell without context. So let’s add some. Right before the cars hit, they were speeding. And not just speeding, but going very fast on a curvy road. The woman doesn’t know why the other car is hitting hers.

  Obviously, she’s a little tense. And we as readers are, too. She’s gripping the steering wheel and we’re gripping the Kindle or whatever we’re reading on.

  But again, does it read as action? Or as description?

  My author friend has done this before, so I asked why she did it again. Turns out there was a Dean Koontz book she read that over-utilized the short choppy sentence technique for action scenes, and she disliked how that particular book read. Fair enough.

  But…

  Don’t let what Koontz did in one book throw you too far in the other direction as far as action scenes.

  Sentences that are too long will end up tamping down the action because you pack three or four things into one sentence. That’s being antiKoontzian for no good reason. Besides, you aren’t doing what he did. Your style and his are different.

  Don’t make absolute mistakes in one direction just to avoid a possible mistake in the other direction.

  An excited reader’s brain is going fast – and will miss the fact that the most important thing in the compound sentence is the last thing you mentioned – so don’t do that. We read the list of stuff like this: It did this then that and then finally the other thing. Yes, yes, we say as we write it, it goes very quickly, doesn’t it? But we’ve read it and thought about it and read it again and written it a few times. We know what we meant, whether we actually wrote it or not, and we are zipping through it whether it reads fast or not. Maybe it doesn’t.

  But if you read it as though your brain were seeing it for the first time, like a reader, and an excited reader (we hope), well…

  We’d get the first thing mentioned, about half the second one, and almost none of the third one, (because it’s now a list) – which is where you might stick the most important thing in the sentence because you were building up to it, right? The crescendo! Bang the cymbals!

  Well…

  I admit to being a lazy reader, so for me these things are particularly flagrant because I do miss stuff when you make big huge sentences at a time when there is action going on. But the main reason not to write action in long sentences is: it doesn’t read well. It’s grammatically and technically correct but literarily boring. (Not literally, literarily.) We readers are excited in an action sequence, so we’re reading fast; give us short sentences to easily digest so we can stay immersed in your story.

  I’ll give you an example of how to mentally picture it, and then a solution.

  Remember how you were driving on the highway. The road signs are very short. “Airport Next Right” should be your manta when writing action scenes. At high speeds, we need the info as brief as possible TO DIGEST IT QUICKLY.

  A reader digesting quickly keeps moving quickly. A driver that has to slow down to read the sign, or stop and back up to fully comprehend the information, has done what you don’t want: un-immersed themselves from the story, right in the middle of the action.

  So first, help yourself see the problem areas.

  Write your scene however you have to write it, whatever your style is, and then go back and highlight in yellow the action areas. It might be just a few lines or it might be 300 of the 400 sentences in your scene, but if you have a lot it just means you’ll be well practiced when you’re finished.

  Look at each of the action areas – a paragraph or maybe just even a sentence. Then break down that sentence into is smallest components, but ONLY for the action area.

  If you want to go on and on about the rolling hills of Tuscany, ramble on about it for as long as your little heart desires; it’s a relaxed theme you’re conveying, and readers will relax as it unfolds.

  A car bouncing down a hillside? Keep it short. The readers get it. They’ll allow it. It’s a style thing. The car crashes. The occupants bounce around. Then they start talking again and we readers take a collective breath and realize that they’re all right.

  See how I did that? Look at what I did starting at Tuscany and ending with the car crash. Looooooong Tuscany sentences versus short, short, short car crash sentences. Sure, you noticed, but did it distract or did it enhance? (Keep in mind, this information you are reading is NOT immersed in the middle of an action scene. It’s an instructional piece, so the reader – you - is by default in first gear driving verrrrry slowly.)

  Think style. You’re stylish, aren’t you? A painting of all one color is boring. So is a painting of all equal brush lengths. Your stories are your paintings, your
sentences are you brush strokes.

  They occasionally need to be choppy to heighten the scene.

  Let them.

  PART 5: Reaction Before Action, Adverbs, And Other Screw-Ups

  Time to go through a few smaller areas.

  1. Adverbs are not your friend, and neither is the word when.

  Allegedly, Stephen King says we use adverbs when we should have used a stronger verb. Makes sense to me. When you read stuff by new writers, the adverbs tend to force feed the info to a reader instead of letting the reader get it themselves. Totally un-immersive.

  So, as you go to type a word ending in -LY, think about a better way to say it. Scan your manuscript (MS) and search for the LY words. Ask your CPs to. Then think of better ways to say that idea. After a while – like after spending a month removing them from your MS – you will react as though your keyboard gave you an electric shock whenever the letters L and Y are typed together. (In a good way. You’ll be learning and saving yourself lots of time down the road, so enjoy your time in LY removal hell. It’s cheap education.)

  2. Reaction Before Action (RBA)

  If you see this comment once in your MS, you’ll probably end up seeing it a lot.

  As the writer, you know what’s coming in the story. For drama and stagecraft, you have to think like you don’t know, but as the actual creator or the scene, you do. So occasionally you’ll get ahead of yourself and have a character react to something that hasn’t happened.

  What?

  Yeah. Here’s an example from a MS that has since been revised.

  “How’s it feel?” she finally asked when he expressed a particularly dramatic wince.

  This is a snag for two reasons. One, the reaction comes before the action causing it (RBA), which we will explain in a moment, and

  Two, “How’s it feel?” DUH! He just made a dramatic wince.

  (For me, the adverb “particularly” is okay here because it’s sarcastic, and that’s part of the writer’s voice. The dialogue tag may be okay, too, because of the amount of conversation happening among multiple characters that I’m not showing here.)

  Okay. Back to the RBA. (Reaction Before Action)

  What information comes to the reader first in the example above? Her question.

  “How’s it feel?” she finally asked when he expressed a particularly dramatic wince.

  What happened first chronologically? The wince.

  Our brains are complex things, but for smoothness we process things best when we get them in the right order, as in, the order in which they happened.

  Here, the wince happened first but we learn about it second, so for a nanosecond we have to back up and re-think what’s happening so we can digest it properly. We received the information in the opposite order. She asked because he winced – so the way it’s written the reader’s brain has to back up for a second to understand it. It’s a nanosecond, and your brains will all do it and understand what the author means, but it’s a tiny snag we can easily avoid. Have him wince first.

  Example 2:

  “It’s five miles from here to the next town,” Jane said after they turned east at the road and finally found a sign.

  What information comes to the reader first? Her statement. What happened first chronologically? They turned east and found a sign that allowed her to conclude it was five miles to the next town.

  See? We got the reaction – her statement – before the action – her reading of the sign. Chronologically, what happened? She found the sign first and then announced what it said. (About now, you are thinking this is nitpicky. I’ll explain why it’s important in a sec. Promise.)

  Example 3:

  Stepping back, Betty threw the rock at the window, wincing when the sound of breaking glass disrupted the morning calm.

  Where’s the RBA? She winces at the sound of breaking glass.

  What information comes to the reader first? Her wince. What happened first chronologically? The glass broke.

  The glass should disrupt the morning calm and then she should wince. The word when allows for the things to happen simultaneously, depending on the reader’s mindset, but as far as delivering information, the glass would break and then she would wince. Why? Because wincing is a reaction that implies she didn’t expect it to be as loud as it was. So does “disrupting the morning calm.” So she does the wincing as a surprised reaction to the glass breaking being louder than she expected. Therefore she has to hear it breaking first.

  Example 4:

  Chloe stopped her shaking hands from removing the bandage when Dillon groaned through his clenched teeth.

  What information comes to the reader first? She stops removing the bandage. What happened first chronologically? He groaned.

  He groaned – that’s why she stopped taking off the bandage. Reader brains have to back up to get that.

  Again, it’s a nanosecond – but why do it? These are the little things that, once corrected, no reader will ever come up and thank you for. No CP will laud you for your non-use of RBAs. But it’ll be one of those little things that allows your manuscript to be a little smoother for having done it.

  Is that a big deal?

  Yes, and here’s why. When they finish your story with these tiny little microscopic issues in them, a reader may feel it’s not as polished or professional as other stories they’ve read – and they probably won’t be able to articulate why. But these tiny things are fixable, so fix them.

  By the way, WE ALL DO IT. So be on the lookout!

  Three of the four examples used the word when, so take this as a heads up and do a manuscript search for it after you’re done writing. Some of you will do it more than others; some not at all. If you do, list it with your crutch words.

  (You do have a list of your crutch words, right? I do. Crutch words are the words we tend to use over and over again when we write, to the point where they become noticeable to a reader. Repetition is verging on boring, and boring is death because it un-immerses your reader from your story.)

  The goal is to simply remove all the little things that can collectively lessen your reader’s constant, deep immersion in your story.

  Immersing a reader completely in your amazing story is the goal.

  Un-immersing your reader from the story is the ultimate sin.

  Now…

  Go forth and sin no more, my child.

  3. Layer In Emotion – because it enhances the action

  Action is great, but what really sells the well-written action scene is the reactions your characters have in it.

  And part of showing their reactions is showing their emotions. (Emphasis on the show, as in “show, don’t tell.”)

  What are the physical manifestations your character can do/exude to have a “disinterested third party” – your reader – conclude the character feels a certain way? Write those things. That’s the first way.

  The second way is to add more beats/short descriptions where necessary, and to specifically choose words that go with the feeling you are trying to evoke. Cuddly goes with puppy, not snake. What emotions are you going for? Rewrite to use words that exaggerate that emotion. Readers want a little drama in their story. Sometimes a lot of drama.

  Third, have the character act or another character react the way you want the reader to feel. (We mentioned that already but it’s worth mentioning again. Must be important, huh?)

  Is your character scared? Have them hold their breath, the hairs stand up on the back of their neck, step backwards – and trip over stuff as they do, with their hand on their mouth stifling their screams. Don’t say Joe was scared. Don’t just have him scream. Draw it out a little. You worked up to this moment just like you did your car crash. Let the reader enjoy it. That’s their payoff.

  In love? Get gooey with it! Stroke the side of his face and gaze into his eyes as that amazing smile flashes across his face, the one that makes your toes curl. You get the idea. Not just a smile, an amazing smile. Unless every word of your story is
gooey, it’ll work. If every word is gooey, it’ll be a mess. Don’t be messy.

  This is all a process of refining and polishing your story so it reads the way you want it to – gripping, immersing, and professional.

  They key is: REST, REFINE, AND POLISH.

  REST to get fresh eyes. Then when you read your story again, you’ll see the stuff you need to fix - that’s REFINING. POLISHING is addressing the tiny words that needed to be more dramatic or more actioney.

  REPEAT maybe one more time, adding EMOTION LAYERS, then…

  …move on.

  The last big mistake: Don’t over polish, publish. The world can’t enjoy your story if it can’t read it. You have more than one great story in you, so publish this one and get on to the next one. The more we write, the more we tend to improve, so expect your next story to be better than your prior one.

  That’s what I expect of you!

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  International bestselling author Dan Alatorre has published more than 22 titles in over a dozen languages.

  You’ll find action-adventure in the sci-fi thriller The Navigators, a gripping paranormal roller coaster ride in An Angel On Her Shoulder, heartwarming and humorous anecdotes about parenting in the popular Savvy Stories series, an atypical romance story in Poggibonsi, and terrific comedy in Night Of The Colonoscopy: A Horror Story (Sort Of). Dan’s knack for surprising audiences and making you laugh or cry - or hang onto the edge of your seat - has been enjoyed by audiences around the world.

  And you are guaranteed to get a page turner every time.

  “That’s my style,” Dan says. “Grab you on page one and then send you on a roller coaster ride, regardless of the story or genre.”

  Readers agree, making his string of #1 bestsellers popular across the globe.

  His unique writing style can make you chuckle or shed tears—sometimes on the same page (or steam up the room if it’s one of his romances). Regardless of genre, his novels always contain unexpected twists and turns, and his endearing nonfiction stories will stay in your heart forever.