Most fight scenes rely heavily upon the vague, and somewhat inaccurate, public
perceptions of how martial artists would utilize their skills in a real fight. That is an
unfortunate limitation, because the most interesting aspect of the martial arts is what goes
on inside the mind of the fighter. That is where the most compelling part of the story truly
lies. It’s what needs to be told.

Can

Authenticity is the Polestar

It's time to add some details to the boy, who looks at the moment more like a dirty kid than a superhero after a fight. Create a new layer, zoom on the eye and, with a white brush, paint over the pupil. In this way the superhero will look like in a state of trans. Another cool detail we will work on is a scar. So in this game that I’m making I know how to make punches, kicks and I’m quite sure on how to make other different type of moves but I don’t know how to make you use them. Kinda like clicking a certain button or like Dragon Ball Z Final Stand where you can click and use a number as a move (for example). I hope I had made this as clear as possible and thank you in advance!

Authenticity is the polestar. An author must always know the subject, and if the
subject is the martial arts, that means keeping a few basics in mind. First, there is no such
thing as one martial art. Instead, there is an amalgam of thousands of both popular and
obscure fighting arts worldwide.

We may be familiar with the term, Karate, which had its birthplace in Okinawa. But
how many of us realize that there are dozens of distinct styles of Karate, each with its
own rankings, requirements and principles? How many of us are familiar with the South
American discipline of Capoeira, a Brazilian martial art, which can be traced to Africa; or
Krav Maga, the modern Israeli martial art; or the more than 1500 various styles of the
Chinese martial art called, Kung Fu?

Hence, the first question an author describing a martial arts encounter must answer
is what style does her protagonist practice? The next is this: how would that style fare in a
real fight; with adrenaline fueling the encounter and panic setting in? The authenticity of
a real fight is that it is savage, bloody and frayed at the edges. Unlike the crisp,
well-executed forms and drills of typical martial arts training, a physical confrontation is
hard to control. Breaking boards is fine, but they don’t hit back. An opponent does.

In short, write about the chaos of a real fight. Bring the reader into what makes a
fight something to avoid. Show the dark underbelly of the encounter.

For example, here is a fight scene from my novel, Point and Shoot, in which the
protagonist uses an Okinawan style of Karate called, Shaolin Kempo, which relies on the
interpretation of the five shaolin animals (tiger, crane, leopard, snake and dragon) for its
basic moves:

I ducked under the second swing and snapped myself into the tiger mindset. The
other four animal styles of our Shaolin Kempo Karate system, the snake, the leopard, the
crane and the dragon, often utilized a block or parry before moving in for a strike. The
tiger was the only one whose nature did not significantly involve defense. This animal
was at the top of the food chain, the strongest and deadliest in the Kingdom. It went in
one direction, always forward, toward the prey. All offense.

No holding back.

I formed my hands as if I were gripping imaginary tennis balls and launched myself
at him. I dug my fingers into the bicep of the swinging arm and ripped at the muscle,
while striking the forearm on the same side, straight in with the heel of my palm, the
“paw” as it were. It was a thousand year old battle protocol from the great Kung Fu
masters: first, attack the arm that attacks you.

The bat fell to the ground.

Next, press the advantage decisively. I ripped into his face with the middle and
forefingers of my right hand, raking along his nose and mouth. With the other hand, I
struck his neck and dug my fingers in, grabbing the windpipe. The technique called for
me to pull it out, lacerating his throat and killing him. But there were other options. I
pushed rather than pulled, momentarily closing the windpipe against itself, cutting off his
air.

Then, I sped things up. Kempo Hands.

I had once timed myself at six strikes per second, and if anything, at that moment, it
felt even faster. A double palm heel blow to both ears, ripping downward along the cheek
and collapsing onto his throat; stepping under and inside his flailing arms to shoot an
elbow upward into his abdomen, taking his center; rolling into a palm heel strike to the
groin; and back into a rising elbow to the underside of his chin; arcing down into another
palm heel onto the bridge of his nose. There were no wind ups, no wasted motion; each
movement was designed to roll naturally into the next.

His body jerked from one direction to the other, in rhythm to the apposite lines of
each attack. The primary strategy of Kempo Karate was to strike an aggressor in opposing
directions, so he could not muster his composure sufficiently to counter-attack. It also
forced the aggressor’s body to lurch into the next stroke head on. The strokes would roll
into one another and create a tumbling effect. To an outside observer, it would appear to
be one simultaneous tornado of movement, of blinding speed, a blur too fast for the eye to
follow.

How To Make Your Own Fighting Styles

Blood splattered from his nose and mouth. His eyes closed and he made a gurgling
sound, flailing his arms impotently as he flew backward.

But my mind-set was the tiger, an animal that kept going when it saw blood. The
next move in this particular combination would have gotten him on the ground and
“smashed” both hands into his throat. The smashing tiger. A finishing blow to the throat,
for insurance.

Instead, I took another step forward and chambered both my hands, palm forward,
elbows bent: the left one at shoulder level; the right, at my hip. I shouted a Kiai, the
warrior yell, and launched a double palm heel strike, imagining both my palms
penetrating through his body. I made contact with his bladder and the underside of his
cheekbone. They were both prime acupuncture points; but just as the meridians could be
used for healing, the pathways could also be blocked.

His head whipped around, and he collapsed, lying on his back, bleeding from the
various facial lacerations and coughing in fits.

*** *

The entire fight had taken less than five seconds; when done right, they usually did.
I paused and reached into my back pocket, taking out some tissues, pressing them against
his facial cuts. He lay there, quietly, allowing me to work on him. I had seen this before
when I was a cop, the defeated male. Docile and compliant.

It occurred to me that this was how a deer might look after being taken down by an
actual tiger. Completely shocked and overwhelmed by the ferocity of the attack, waiting
for the neck bite that would end it all.

He coughed a few times, but was finally able to breathe again without laboring. I
turned him on his side so he could spit out the blood. I wiped it away and found that there
were only two places I had actually broken the skin. One was the juncture of his upper
and lower lip and the other, his nose. After a few moments of pressure, they both stopped
bleeding.

I helped him up and left him standing there, crouching with his hands on his thighs,
I searched for my gun in the grass. I found it about twenty feet away. I opened the
chamber out of habit to be sure it was still fully loaded and rejoined him. He lumbered his
way to the door, ignoring me.

I noted that the baseball bat had landed on the ground behind him. I kicked it into
the street.

He dabbed at his face and looked to see if there was anymore blood. “You fight like
a girl,” he said.

The Author Must Inhabit The Mind of the Fighter

It is important that the author learn what it is like not only to throw a punch, but to
take one, as well. Most of us have not been in an actual fight (at least as adults), yet we
write about them with impunity. I am not advocating that a brawl take place at the next
writer’s convention, but certainly, there is something to be said for an author going to the
local marital arts school and learning the basics of controlled sparring.

If you are afraid to try that, use that fear in your story. Emotional content is a
powerful tool for a writer. Your characters should be afraid to fight on some level. The
way they deal with that fear, either by denying it; using it to bolster their awareness; or
allowing it to overtake them in a fit of panic, will establish the realism of your fight
scene.

Perhaps your central character is so angry that he sets aside the fear. Perhaps your
character is protecting a loved one so she ignores her slight stature and lack of real
training and proceeds to overcome a larger opponent. The actual punching and kicking
should be secondary. You must guide the reader into inhabiting your character’s feelings
and motivations about the hostile encounter.

You Need Not Describe Every Grunt

We all know the standard refrain for new writers: show don’t tell. In a fight scene,
the author can “tell” the reader a great deal about his characters by simply “showing” how
they fight. In this scene from my book, Point and Shoot, I wanted to paint a portrait of
how an older man named, Grandfather, would overcome two younger, stronger ones,
whom I call White Shirt and Pony Tail, by utilizing the internal aspects of the martial
arts.

“Management. We had a complaint from one of the other guests about noise.”

“We’re leaving,” he replied. “Give us ten minutes to clean up.”

“I can’t hear you, sir.”

White Shirt leaned into the door. “I said we’re leaving.”

Suddenly the door exploded off its hinges, smashing directly into him. He arced
across the room.

I had so rarely seen Grandfather let loose to maximum effect in these last years.
When he did, it looked nothing like what Bette and I would do, none of those solid and
crisp Kempo Karate combinations he had taught me so long ago, drawn from the basic
system. His movements were now hidden and obscure.

And unstoppable.

He calmly stepped inside the room. Pony Tail leveled his gun, taking aim from the
other side. Grandfather ran his hand in a large arc from head to waist. It looked like he
was fanning the air. Pony Tail shouted in pain and fell backward, dropping the gun.

Grandfather approached him without haste. Pony Tail righted himself and
scrambled to pick up the gun again.

Still far away from him, Grandfather clapped his hands together, and twisted his
palms outward. The younger man smashed against the far wall, caught in a wave of
energy. That gave Grandfather the time he needed to reach him. He placed his fingers
gently on Pony Tail’s gun hand. The weapon immediately dropped to the floor once more.
Then he lightly tapped the center of Pony Tail’s chest. The younger man collapsed to the
ground, unconscious.

By now, White Shirt had pulled himself back together. He had his gun aimed.

How

Without touching him, Grandfather made a short, blunt movement which I did not
recognize. White Shirt grimaced and dropped the gun, holding his hands to his temples.
There was another blunt movement, this one emanating from a twist in Grandfather’s hip,
something akin to a bump and grind.

White Shirt also collapsed to the ground.

Conclusion

Fight scenes should be viewed as opportunities to develop characterization and
introduce emotional content to the story. To do so, the author must present a both
physically and mentally authentic description of the encounter. Now, go out there and
have your characters kick some ass.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
G.D. Baum is a graduate of the Sarah Lawrence Writing Program. He has achieved
a black belt in Shaolin Kempo Karate, and in was ranked sixth in the United States in
forms for his Division by the NASKA Find out more about G.D. and his novel Point and
Shoot at http://www.pointandshootwebsite.com

Make

Co-authored with Behavior Analyst Francisco Gomez.

With almost a quarter century of fighting and coaching, I have had the fortune to collaborate and train with many world-class fighters, champions, and UFC vets. Moreover, I’ve been exposed to the teachings of master coaches of boxing like Angelo Dundee, and pioneers of MMA like Conan Silveira.

During this time, I’ve observed or have been the recipient of a variety of philosophies and approaches to the combat sports. Oddly enough, some approaches have been radically conflicting. From champion boxing trainer Milton Lacroix teaching me to fight off the ball of my back foot, with my lead hand held below my waist, to Angelo Dundee telling me to fight more flat footed and keep my hands up (odd considering he trained Muhammad Ali). From world champion Muay Thai coaches compelling their students to deliberately plod forward, to Olympic boxing coaches urging their students to use lateral movement to create angles off their opponent’s aggression.

“They can’t all be right,” I used to contemplate. But given their success, they couldn’t all be wrong either, could they? Well, the answer, from my perspective, is they were all right…just not all of the time. Clear as mud? How could they be right sometimes? The solution, as you will see, can be found in Fighting Styles! Over the next few articles, I am going to provide a deeper look into styles, from elements of different styles to training regiments specific to styles.

Styles Defined

The old saying goes, styles make fights. But what are styles, and how is it they “make” fights? What if Mike Tyson had devoted his training towards a style like Muhammad Ali’s? Or conversely, if Ali attempted to use the “peek-a-boo” style mastered by Tyson? Can you imagine Tyson with his short, stocky build as he “floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee”?? Or Ali, with his height and long reach attempting to slip inside to explode with massive hooks. The thought, for some, might actually be humorous. Would each fighter have become a reigning champion? It doesn’t take an expert analyst to figure this one out!

How To Make Your Own Fighting Style

Styles do make fights. If Ali were to fight his doppelganger, there would likely be lots of dancing, and very little fighting.

Style

As experts in human performance and the science of human behavior, we (Francisco and I) believe it’s easiest to conceptualize styles behaviorally. Elements of styles, as you will see throughout these series of articles, are essentially observable behaviors. For the purpose of this article, styles can be considered a combination of high frequency behaviors fighters apply under specific combat conditions. More specifically: Styles are made up of a complex interplay between genetics, physiological characteristics, historical factors, and contact with environmental factors. Itis our contention that those involved in combat sports would benefit by having a deeper understanding of styles. “One style fits all” philosophies limit potential. Consideration of characteristics like height and reach to “fit” fighters with the most effective style will accelerate performance.

Styles Happen

Coaching has a lot to do with core skill-sets that make up styles. However, many styles actually develop in the absence of deliberate coaching, or even contrary to a coach’s specific instruction. The reason: styles often develop inadvertently. When sparring, fighters come in contact with naturally occurring reinforcers (i.e. it’s working) and punishers (i.e. it ain’t working!). For example, something tells us coaches did not tell Ali, “keep your hands down!” In fact, if you listen closely to Angelo Dundee in Ali’s early fights, you can hear exactly the opposite. “Keep your hands up,” Dundee fervently urges as Ali effortlessly dances around his opponents firing lighting fast jabs.

It is our contention that, early in Ali’s training history, he likely came into contact with reinforcement (i.e. success) very quickly by using his low-hanging, relaxed jab that allowed him to take advantage of his incredible reach. Not only did Ali land more, but he likely received less punishment than his opponents who used a high guard. You see, Ali’s style employed the “hidden defense” of distance and angles to capitalize on his reach. He didn’t need to keep his hands up. Using this style, his opponents literally couldn’t reach him!

Styles Evolve

Like Darwin’s theory on evolution, only the strongest skills “survive” as they increase the fighter’s ability to compete. In the case of combat sports, the skills attempted by the fighter which prove most effective are the ones naturally selected. These skills will likely endure and evolve to become part of the fighters lasting repertoire. Like the novice fighter who compromises countering ability as he leans away from a punch, certain techniques aren’t sustainable. However, because these skills might be garnering the fighter an immediate return on investment, they are likely to continue.

How To Create A Fighting Style

The good news is that quality coaching or sparring that provides natural consequences tend to shape performance. In Ali’s case, behaviors that were “naturally selected” were lateral foot movement along with a low-hanging, long-distance jab. These skills proved superior to even the most dangerous opponents, so Ali continued to use them. A shorter fighter, like Joe Frazier for instance, would never have obtained the coveted world heavyweight title using this approach. Frazier needed head movement and shorter hooking punches to be effective.

Styles Strategically Applied

What we can see from this illustration is that certain things work for some fighters much better than others, when fighting particular opponents. It’s not uncommon to hear fighters say things like “I hate sparring tall guys.”Or “those short compact fighters give me a hard time.” One could argue these same fighters might learn to love sparring these same opponents. Specifically, if they were able to successfully develop a competitive strategy that falls within the parameters of the style they’re best suited for. If coaches consider the style of their fighter relative to their opponent, they may be able to more effectively build a strategic plan to capitalize on strengths and accelerate the acquisition of skills that fall within the fighter’s physical propensities. For example, training Tyson in the “peek-a-boo” style to turn his height and reach “disadvantage” into a competitive edge.

When analyzing styles, we propose a classification system made up of three styles: short-range, mid-range, and long-range styles.

Styles Classified

When analyzing styles, we propose a classification system made up of three styles: short-range, mid-range, and long-range styles. Fighters do not typically fight using a style that fits cleanly into one specific class. They tend to transition fluidly through elements of each style within a fight as conditions require. However, we suggest fluent practitioners of a specific style as illustrated by the classification system likely follow the 80-20 rule. That is, 80 percent of the time they use their “go to stylistic skills,” and 20 percent of the time they utilize elements that fall within the other two classifications.

This is not to suggest that all fighters use an 80/20 mix, or the same fighters use the same ratio for each fight. For instance, one fighter might be utilizing long range striking 60 percent, mid-range 20 percent, and short-range 10-percent. The same fighter who understands styles and is aware of an opponent’s significant reach advantage might switch adapt their game as follows: 10-percent long-range, 40-percent mid-range, and 60-percent short range. We would suggest that the closer a fighter comes to applying a specific style 100-percent of the time, the closer he or she comes to the purest form of the style classification.

How To Make Your Own Fighting Style Crossword

Styles Make Fights

How To Make Your Own Fighting Style Crossword Clue

Styles do make fights. If Ali were to fight his doppelganger, there would likely be lots of dancing, and very little fighting. Fortunately, most of Ali’s opponents moved forward. The result, “good style match-ups” and exciting fights. A more recent fight where controversy ensued occurred between Rory McDonald and Stephen Thompson. In this fight, two long-range countering styles were pitted against one another. The result: high output in terms of footwork, and low output in terms of offense. Some are calling it strategic, while others are calling it boring. The point is, the style match up dictated the pace of this fight. In our next article, we will break styles into specific elements while reflecting on the strengths and weaknesses of each approach.