Tag Archives: writing advice

Q&A: A Death in the Story

I’m going to break this question into two pieces. I don’t normally like doing that here, but the example really drifts into a separate topic, and I don’t want to simply cull that out.

Do you think, instead of killing parents off for books, they could allow their kids to go on adventure or take the kids with them on adventures?

Yeah. You’re asking about a specific sub-genre and then asking, “but what about stepping out of the sub-genre?” Those stories already exist, in a number of forms.

Not every story about kids adventuring on their own comes from dead parents. As much as you can joke about Pokemon being a, “child neglect simulator,” there is a narrative there about children simply going out and playing. The series was inspired by, Satoshi Tajiri’s childhood hobby of collecting insects, and his experiences in rural Japan. (With a healthy dose of imaginative fancy.)

I’m going to break this into three groups. The parents are dead, the parents are alive but disinterested, and the parents are alive and active participants.

These are all different kinds of stories, and I’m being a little reductive with these classifications because we’re tracking a specific element across all the kinds of stories that use that.

Live long enough, and you will bury your parents. It’s inevitable. At some point, growing up, everyone realizes this. There’s no escape, we will all die someday. Realizing that is one of those critical moments in your growth from child to adult. How you deal with that knowledge is deeply personal to you as an individual. However, it also means losing a parent does force you to grow as a person.

So, there’s two separate versions of this: the parent dies a catalyst for character growth. I’ll be honest, there’s an entire genre of this, in many different forms of media, where a child or teen escapes the trauma of dealing with a parent’s death either into fantasy, or by running away. In cases like this, the parent needs to die for the child to experience and learn from that. These will usually be coming of age stories.

In some cases, you can even see variations of this genre with adults dealing with the death of their adult parent. There’s also a related genre with parents dealing with the loss of their child or spouse. Again the focus is confronting death and grief (or retreating into fantasy to avoid that) so if there’s no death, the story’s beats aren’t going to work.

So, in these cases, the crux of the story is leaning to deal with the loss of a parent, so yes, they do need to be dead for these to work. (As a quick aside, I can’t really cite any of these off the top of my head. I find this genre deeply depressing and tend to avoid it.) There is a related sub-genre of children dealing with a parent’s illness (terminal or otherwise), and all of the above permutations also exist, though ultimately, that is a different kind of story, and trying to transition from dealing with death to only dealing with the fear of death seriously alters the context, and the kind of story you’re telling.

The other side of this is, you can have stories kill off the parent in a cheap attempt to raise the stakes. I’m looking at Batman here.

To be clear, I don’t have anything against the idea of an orphan protagonist, when their parent’s death is just backstory to where they are, however I do dislike the practice of executing characters to cheaply manufacture drama.

The orphan child hunting down the individual who killed their parent is cliche, but, as character motivation for a revenge story goes, it works.

Does the parent need to be dead? Well, in this case, not really. They need to be “gone,” but that’s not necessarily the same as dead. An, “orphan,” child hunting down the people who took their family doesn’t require their family to be dead, simply off-stage.

Similarly, an “orphan,” who’s family is gone and is accidentally on an adventure doesn’t require the family to be dead. It’s been a while since I read C. S. Lewis, but as I recall the kids in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, aren’t coping with dead parents, even if they were sent to the countryside to avoid a very real risk of death.

I’m trying to keep things general here, but pretty much any portal fantasy that removes the child will start to get into this territory without needing to kill anyone.

I suppose, Harry Potter is a similar, though distinct variant here. Ignoring that Harry is an orphan, he is surrounded by the teachers who are, more or less, tasked with functioning as parents. While this is an awkward example, it’s worth remembering that sometimes there are other characters who take up a guardian role for a child, even if their actual family isn’t there. So, if I was being really serious about having a consistent continuity to examples, this should probably be further down the list.

One of the more disturbing transitions here is the idea that the child’s parents are there, but they don’t care. That may be a little harsh, because there is still some gradation between the protagonists of something like the Pokemon games, where the characters are set loose and assumed to be, “staying safe,” and examples like the film version of Buffy (1992), where her parents really don’t notice, or care, the condition Buffy comes home in. Though, as with Harry Potter above, Merrick (Donald Sutherland) does end up acting as a (slightly unhinged) parent to her.

There is a theme here I’m trying to ignore, but we should probably address. At some point, in the process of becoming an adult, you need to grow past the limitations your parents imposed, or can impose. Freud called this “killing,” them, and many writers seem to take that advice literally. Mentors (whether they’re your character’s actual parents or not) don’t need to die in service of the story. It’s an easy way to catalyze that transition, but, it is not necessary, and can be cheap through overuse.

I’m thinking of how a lot of fantasy stories have dead parents and I’m looking for a way to circumvent that for my own story without having the parents seem neglectful.

There’s a lot of stages in growing up, and stories can explore any of those experiences. This means: Yes, there’s room for stories about children adventuring either with their parents present and assisting, or absent for any number of reasons.

In normal circumstances, parents fill in as ad-hoc teachers for their children and their interests. This could overlap with their actual area of expertise, or it could be they’re trying to keep up with their kid’s interests. (Granted, the latter is less common in fiction.)

If you look back a second, there is an edge case where your character’s “parents” could be their actual teachers. It also fits with boarding school scenarios (like the Harry Potter example above.) It’s a slightly different dynamic, but you’re not chained to their adult oversight being blood relations.

So, you can have an adventure where the kids are going along with their parents, who are doing what they can to keep them safe. (So, they’re not going to intentionally put the children in harm’s way, or ask them to do something too dangerous.) They can still perform safe tasks, based on their age and aptitude, and start learning about that field.

Also, with older teens you can afford to give them significantly more autonomy. They’re not adults yet, but they are capable of operating on their own. Something their parents may rely on if necessary.

There’s a continuity here: as the child ages, they’re going to be able to take on more responsibility, be better able to actively participate in events, and they’ll gradually develop more autonomy. The exact age of your characters will determine where they end up, and on a longer timeline of events, that progress will form the core of their arc.

I know Steve Irwin brought his daughter with him (I distinctly remember him and a few others holding an alligator and him asking her to hold down the tip of the tail to help.) Thoughts?

I’m a little hesitant to use real world examples, especially since Steve Irwin did die doing what he loved. However, that anecdote about Bindi Irwin does illustrate what I was talking about a second ago. The alligator isn’t going to eat her with its tail, and he wasn’t asking her to just go grab an unrestrained, predatory reptile.

With that in mind, there’s plenty of stories about kids going off and working with their parents. The Amelia Peabody Mysteries by the late Elizabeth Peters comes to mind, where over the course of the novels, Amelia’s son eventually takes over as the primary narrator. (The books also transition from first person limited to an epistolary format when the in-fiction “author” changes.)

The important thing to remember is what their death means in a larger context to the characters. Killing a character (or “characters,” if it’s a package deal) should always have significant importance on the characters or plot.

This isn’t a, “sanctity of human life,” argument. As the author your job is tell the story, no matter how unpleasant it may be for the characters. The issue is simpler: You don’t want to waste your audience’s time and attention.

As a writer, you’re asking your audience to read your story. You’re asking them to pay attention to each detail. The unspoken promise is that this will somehow improve the experience. It can move the plot forward, it can offer important context, or it can build the texture of the world and its inhabitants.

It can be tempting to simply throw the kitchen sink at your story; you may have a grand idea of a massive world filled with people and their history, but you’re better served culling that down to the important details. There’s a piece of writing advice from Elements of Style, “omit unnecessary words.” Usually, we think about this at a sentence level, but apply it to your writing as a whole. Ask yourself, “does the story need this character?” If the answer is, “no,” you can’t simply kill them off, you need to remove them completely.

A truth about death is, it’s not the end. I don’t mean in some metaphysical sense; death does not end the influence of a person; their absence lingers and the consequences of their actions persist.

If you’re going to kill someone, you need to remember they’re still a part of the story, even after they’re gone.

-Starke

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Q&A: Writing that Intimidating Darth Vader Character

How do you illustrate someone that’s absolutely terrifying in a fight? I’ve got this plate-wearing, greatsword-wielding character designed in the style of Darth Vader or the Terminator, but I haven’t found a way to ‘show’ that she’s this terrifying, freakishly strong juggernaut without being sloppy or a blatant power trip, or turning other characters into ‘oh she’s so scary’ plot devices.

The answer is pretty simple, but also difficult in practice because the answer to writing intimidating characters is a concept called “presence”. In film, this is usually referred to as screen presence but in fiction (and in life) we’ll refer to this as body language.

There’s a mistaken assumption that you need to be large to be imposing, but what makes Vader and the Terminator so imposing is actually their body language and the way they’re framed. In their case most of this is visual, in the color palate, in the costume, but it’s also there in the body language. If you want to riff these characters in fiction, then you need to focus on how they behave and how the people around them react to their presence.

Why are they intimidating?

Why do they scare people?

You need to delve into the nitty gritty to translate what you’re feeling and seeing onto the page. You’re making a mistake in assuming that the character’s tools, the armor, the great sword, will do the work for them; but that’s not what makes someone intimidating in written fiction. You have to show what that armor and weapon mean.

The easy version of intimidation is total domination, total mastery, and total control. See below:

Lifting her eyes, Kadi took in her mother’s lazy stance, her blade in an almost ready position. She snapped forward, silver and green flashing in the mid-afternoon light. Re-appeared just behind her on the windowsill, ready to thrust.

Her mother’s blade caught her in the gut.

Kadi struck with her blade, blood spilling past her lips.

“Good,” her mother said, knocking the strike away. She caught Kadi by the collar before she fell, yanked back into the room, and flung her across it.

Kadi struck the wall, tumbled to the floor. Twisting, she landed on her feet. The blade spun in her hand. She rushed forward.

Her mother’s eyes gleamed yellow. “Your form and shape are tools.”

Their blades met in a clash of sparks.

“Control the flow of blood, and your body will not die until you wish it.”

She brought her blade up as her mother pressed inward, twisting sideways. Dodging her mother’s punch, she struck toward the inside of the thigh.

Her mother slipped away. “Never yield. Continue after the last enemy is dead.”

Their blades met again, and slid along the sharpened edges. Gritting her teeth, Kadi ignored the pounding in her ears. Her blood slipping down her stomach. She flicked the blade up, and drove the tip toward her mother’s neck.

Her mother’s foot caught Kadi’s gut wound, kicking her into the opposing wall.

Kadi landed hard.

“Get up.”

“Wake the Dead” by C.E. Schmitt

Keep in mind with this training sequence, the characters in this passage aren’t remotely human. So, you don’t have to worry about the long term ramifications of damage to a physical body. The purpose of the sequence is to teach both Kadi and the character about a body’s disposable nature. Kadi is learning how to fight through extreme injury, and even death.

You’ll notice Kadi’s mother doesn’t move from her position at all throughout the scene. Kadi attacks her, trying to break her defenses. We see her give Kadi a gut wound, save Kadi from falling out the window, and see her attack the gut wound. We see Kadi focusing while her mother instructs, multiple attempts by Kadi to attack her mother none of which are successful.

You don’t need to ask the question: who has the power in this scenario? It’s clear Mom does.

If you want your character to be intimidating in the classic villain sense then, not only do they have to win, they need to win without breaking a sweat. They should exude a sense of confidence whenever or wherever they go, regardless of what room they walk into. Other characters in setting get a chill just hearing their name. Knowing they’re nearby makes even seasoned established badasses freakout and suggest heading for the hills.

You have to let them do their thing, let them win, and let them keep winning until the time comes for them to lose.

Characters like Darth Vader and the Terminator put incredible pressure on the heroes until the end of the film, they evoke feelings of fear and desperation because they are so unfazed by the best warriors and conventional tactics. They represent overwhelming power, they are so unconcerned with ensuring their impending victory that they walk rather than run. By their own design, they’re better off used sparingly than spending the novel front and center or acting as the protagonist rather than the antagonist. These two aren’t just villains, they’re supporting characters. This is the Terminator, even in films like Terminator II where he’s a re-programmed good guy rather than a bad guy. He’s a bodyguard. There to kick ass, take names, and bond with John Connor. After all, Sarah Conner is the hero of both Terminator films. (OG Sarah Conner in Terminator II is not a bad character to look at for this kind of stone cold badass.) Due to their designed role as supports, you have to do a lot of work to remake them into protagonists.

As you’ve discovered, writing a character who is convincingly scary and intimidating is more difficult than it sounds. You have to walk your talk, and walk your walk. If you oversell and can’t make good, the character falls flat. If you tell without showing, then the tell has nothing to back itself up. You can’t tell me the character is a dangerous, unstoppable juggernaut and have the heroes defeat them two pages later. You oversell the character, and eliminate reader trust. They might not believe the next villain you trot out is a legitimate threat, which undercuts your narrative tension.

They need to live up to their reputation.

They need to inspire fear in others.

We need to see why people fear them and their skills.

Attitude – “I don’t have time for you.” These characters tend to be gruff, but they’re mostly condescending. They tend to be reserved even when they take up space. They’re in the rare situation where both their rudeness and confidence are justified by their ability to back it up. (You have to justify it, you can’t expect them to do it on their own.) You have to really stack up the odds for them to start getting ruffled. Therefore, it’s up to you as the author to figure out the narrative limits within your own setting. This way, you can keep your story consistent from scene to scene. One thing is common with all these characters is they take up space, they’re unapologetic about it, and when they walk into a room everyone notices. Also, get off my lawn.

One versus Many is an old hat narrative trick to establish a bad ass via fight scene. You need to be careful overusing this one, and then there’s the question of whether or not you as the writer can write a 1vX scenario. Juggling multiple enemies looks easy on screen, but isn’t when it’s just you trying to figure out how you write that.

The 1vX ups the ante when the seasoned antagonist takes on other top tier members of their group/established narrative badasses solo and handily wins. Well, you know they’re strong.

Deeds – What have they done to be worthy of their reputation? A warrior who slaughters farmers at the request of their overlord comes off as a bully. A warrior who slaughters the king’s best soldiers and then slaughters farmers afterward without mercy is goddamn terrifying.

The Power Stance – This is where the character stands forward facing, shoulders squared and chest lifted. Head up. The juggernaut fighting style involves not moving much unless you have to. They don’t draw their weapon unless they need it. You should probably view the weapon draw as the character signaling she’s getting serious, rather than her first go to. She’s not going to be serious in a bar fight because this is a character for whom the normal rules of safety don’t apply. (Also, the armor significantly limits all threats.)

Everyone Wants to Be the Best – The climb to the top is long, hard bitten, and fraught with danger. If you have a character who is the best at what they do like Darth Vader, you should respect the time and effort they put in to get themselves there. These characters often have very specific and job oriented personalities often to the point of obsession. For someone to be so on top as to have the reputation they do, they must have killed a lot of people. They’re the ones with a target on their back, the one everyone’s gunning for, who everyone wants to kill, and that doesn’t bother them at all.

Establish the Bottom – If you want to establish how much better a character is than everyone else, then you need to figure out and establish both the low bar and the average bar before jumping at the high bar. If the high bar is all people get, then they’ll think that’s where normal is. You need to establish why the power and skill gap between this character and others is so immense right from the get go, from our first interaction with the character. They should be pulling things off other characters can only imagine. For this reason, they usually don’t work well as POV characters.

Walkin’ Into Danger Like It’s Tuesday – Yeah, you know the famous line from Bison, “The day I graced your village was the single most important day of your life but, for me, it was Tuesday.”

The horrors they inflict are foundational for other people but, for them, what they do is normal. They’re the chaotic tornado upsetting other people’s lives, memorable to other people, but other people aren’t usually memorable to them. After all, they’ve done this for so long the faces begin to blur together.

Again, See Below:

The hellbeasts stalked into a semicircle, their long jaws slavering as they grinned to display razor sharp teeth.

“Get behind me, Emma,” Chastity said, drawing her blade. She stepped forward. “It’s going to be all right.”

Beside her, Jayse pulled his pistol. He didn’t question Chastity, they didn’t need Emma freaking out. Still, with the five hellbeasts in front of them, more on the rooftops, neither of them could make any promises about keeping an untrained neophyte safe. Chastity lacked the skills to deal with this many wargs on her own, and she was low in the rankings. He’d have to dip into his own powers to even the scale, even then he couldn’t make any guarantees.

The hellbeasts lunged.

Emma screamed.

The world exploded in a flash of hot white light.

Sharon Kelso stood where the hellbeasts had been, watching dust particles left behind by atomized bodies drift through the air. Her right hand stuck in her jean’s pocket. Her eyes glowed bright white. A small, winged imp-like creature squatted on one shoulder. Casually, she broke off the end of a candy bar and handed it to shriveled green thing.

The little imp snatched the bar, stuffed it into its mouth.

Kelso tilted her head, surveying each surprised face in the circle. “Go home.”

“Yeah, yeah!” the little imp yelled. “If ya don’t, we eats ya!”

“Eats! Fucker wants eats!” cried a second, tucked behind her leg. It titled its head, mimicking its mistress. “Wait. Can we eats them, Boss?”

Keso smiled faintly. “Not yet.”

“We can’t eats ya yet!” the first imp yelled.

The second shook its fist. “Stay for dinner, and we will!”

Kelso looked away, her expression dispassionate. “Go.” Her blazing white eyes scanned the nearby alleys, studying the shadows. “I don’t babysit.”

Jayse got to his feet, brushing off his arms. He tried to catch Kelso’s eye. Failing, he sighed and slipped his dagger back up his sleeve. She was definitely in one of her moods. They’d have to talk about her people skills, or lack thereof later. He resisted the urge to shove his hands in his pants, that’d just confirm he was still the disgruntled teenager Stewart believed he’d let himself become. “We should do what she says.”

“S-s-she just disintegrated them,” Emma whispered.

“She does that,” Chastity sighed.

Emma blinked. “Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Chastity said.

Jayse pushed back his hair, his eyes on Kelso. “There’s a breach in the sewers, third level. You shouldn’t go alone.”

She glanced at him, the light dying in her eyes. Brown irises flickered yellow in the street lights, and, for a moment, he saw confusion there. Then, her lips curled into one of her creepy, villainous smiles. The light flared back up inside her pupil as she rubbed her nose. “Amateurs.”

“Amateur! Amateur!” the little imp on her shoulder cried in a sing-song voice, and the second joined in to chorus, “amateur ashes all fall down!”

Jayse stiffened.

“She’s Number One for a reason, Jayse,” Chastity said. She reached out, and tugged at his sleeve. “We should let her do her thing.”

She’s Number One?” Emma squealed. “Wait. Number One? What does that even mean?”

Chastity smacked her forehead. “I knew we never should’ve let Emma out. There’s a dimensional breach. We got crossways of Kelso. Stewart’s gonna kill us.” She sighed heavily, biting her lower lip. “Our luck sucks.”

“You’ve no idea how right you are,” said another voice from behind them.

Kelso looked away, and the fiery light returned to her eyes. She walked down the alley, her shadow spread up one wall but not the other. As her shadow moved across concrete and brick, a pair of wings lifted off her back. Kelso finished off her candy bar, tossed the wrapper, and kicked off the manhole cover at the alley’s end.

“See you later, suckas!” the imp cried.

Kelso, imps on both shoulders, dropped into the sewers.

“Great,” Emma muttered. “She’s an asshole and she litters.”

“And she could stick all your internal organs on the outside of your body with a wink,” Chastity said.

When you encounter this character, they should feel like someone you really wouldn’t want to meet in a back alley.

– Michi

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Q&A: Reaction to Punching

I know this may sound stupid but, how do you write what happens after the punch hits to person? Like, when the punch hit “Their head flung/snapped sideways” Is there a word/words to describe that moment?

itshighnowon

This isn’t a stupid question. After all, if you’ve never punched anything before or spent a lot of time around martial artists or practiced martial arts then you’re not going to be familiar with the after effects.

You can use many different words to describe a punch hitting someone, so there aren’t specific words you need to use. Some descriptions are better than others. You generally want to follow the rules of physics and force projection. The head is a decent example for big motion, outside the rest of the body, because the only structural support is the neck. When struck with a single hand instead of in dual motion (like say boxing the ears), the head will generally move in the same direction the force was applied.

Forward = back

Struck from right = swings toward left side (follow the force)

Struck from left = swings toward right side (follow the force)

Behind = forward

Under = Up

If you hit them hard enough they might be knocked off their central axis, at which point they will step in the appropriate direction to counter the incoming force. If enough force is applied to knock them off balance, they may stumble. Keep in mind stumbling is unlikely on the punch, especially against someone who knows how to set their balance, because upper body strikes aren’t as powerful as they’re presented on television.

So, if you strike someone in the face with a jab then their head might “snap backwards” or be “knocked backwards” depending on how hard they’re hit. The question is the image you want to present, verb “snap” implies a quick jerk where the reader might assume “knocked” affected more than just the head and led to a step backwards to regain balance. So, you might apply “snap” to a quick strike off the leading hand and “knocked” to strikes off the secondary power hand. I won’t say “left” or “right” because the hand positioning relies on which side of the brain is dominant. If you’re right handed then the right is most likely your dominant hand and your power hand, while the left is the front/light/fast hand. Vice versa for the lefthanded side.

This is just the head. If you were to punch someone in the stomach, their whole body would curl inwards to protect the injury and because all their air got knocked from their lungs. They might step backwards, they might fall to their knees.

Like with all writing, you want to think in depth about the verbs you’re choosing for your action sequences. Action verbs are not interchangeable. The question of “what is the physical response to someone being punched?” is reliant on the type of punch and where the punch lands. In a broad sense, you need to consider the point of impact and how far that impact is off center. You can consider center as the center line running up the middle of your body, strikes to that center, particularly in the upper body, are more likely to knock an opponent off balance. Not every punch will destabilize an opponent, not every punch will move them in an obvious way. Strikes to the shoulder, to the arm, to the legs, will cause responses in those single targets. The lack of an immediate, obvious reaction in those areas doesn’t mean the strikes are worthless. Punching someone in the shoulder can make it more difficult for them to lift their arm, which hinders both attack and defense.

Samantha knocked Joe’s arm away. With her right hand, she punched him in the shoulder. She didn’t wait for him to flinch, backhanding him across the temple. Joe’s head snapped sideways, and he stumbled. Seizing Joe’s loose wrist, Samantha drove a roundhouse into his stomach.

“Knocked” gives the impression of something going flying. Samantha “punches” him in the shoulder, which is a straightforward straight punch. Then, because she’s close, she “backhands” him with the same hand. Due to the force coming sideways, his head moves in the direction of the force inflicted, and, because it’s off center and he wasn’t expecting it, he stumbles. Then, Samantha grabs the arm he left free and kicks him. This is an age old tactic that works better with a sidekick, but the general idea is that you hold onto your opponent while delivering a powerful blow so the force cannot be mitigated by them moving backwards. They have to stand there and take it.

In hand to hand combat, some measure of force delivered will be mitigated by movement and some will be absorbed by you on the moment of impact. This is why you lock your joints and muscles in the moment before the strike, and why you can injure yourself when hitting someone else. While these are technical details which will slow down your scene with experienced combatants, they become an important point with inexperienced ones. Inexperienced fighters will tense up too early or too late on strikes, resulting in them being slower and failing to put all the force they’ve generated by their momentum into their opponent. They will also stop their strike before or at their opponent’s body instead of striking through them. This limits their force projection and, again, halves what they put into an opponent. In context, this is what martial artists mean when they say beginners don’t hit very hard.

What you need to do is practice visualizing the scene you want, then finding the words to describe it. When writing fight sequences, familiarize yourself with much imagery regarding the subject as you can. I recommend searching YouTube for How To videos on various martial arts and paying close attention to what happens when these various martial artists strike pads. Even when you’re not looking at someone fighting another human being, seeing how the impact affects the pads can be instructive for describing different situations.

The answer to finding the right words is trying out different verbs and different descriptions until you find ones that evoke the imagery or feeling you want for your scene. Unfortunately, this latter half is part of being a writer. There’s no right way to do it. The authenticity of the sequence will come from how well you portray your physics on the page. Almost nothing you write will come out perfect off the cuff. Ultimately, in this case, practice makes perfect.

-Michi

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Q&A: Valentina Shevchenko is Awesome!

The women’s deadlift record is less than 700 pounds, the men’s is more than 1100. Every medalist of the 2016 800m women’s Olympic race was XY intersex. Denying science doesn’t make you progressive.

I want you to know, every other martial arts I read this question off to has burst out laughing. This includes male martial artists. Then, they all pointed out why it was dumb.

Using unrelated scientific data to support a reactionary position doesn’t make you progressive either. Turning to weightlifting for “proof” in relation to the combat arts is the number one most common refuge by people who have no idea what they’re talking about. They turn to weightlifting because they think that physical strength i.e what you can deadlift is important proof for superiority, even if it’s meaningless in context.

Men can lift more. So what? We know they can. Men have a much easier time building up their upper body strength than women do. I’ve said it before on this blog. Women have an easier time building up their lower body strength. Women also have a lower center of gravity, which makes them more difficult to throw if they’ve learned how to properly set their weight. The overspecialization of the weightlifter with their musculature means they can’t actually achieve full extension on their strikes and halves their power. Which is why this specific argument is funny. They’re also ineligible for military service because they’re overweight.

My friend who has competed in archery tournaments internationally once had a group of bodybuilders come into her archery range. They wanted to do a marketing photo shoot where they were drawing the bows. Here’s the funny part: they couldn’t draw the bows. They’d developed their biceps and triceps, but hadn’t properly developed the necessary muscles in their shoulders. They couldn’t draw. After learning the proper technique, they still struggled.

You’re offering up statistics that don’t apply in hopes that they’ll prove some kind of point about male superiority. However, the question is male superiority in regards to what?

I’ve never argued men aren’t capable, just that women’s skills and ability are misrepresented. Nothing stops me from appreciating individuals for the skills and experience they bring to the table. Barfing up statistics that mean nothing in context to the argument you’re trying to make does nothing for the argument itself. Misrepresenting those statistics does a disservice to everyone involved, and just makes you look like a fool.

I don’t care about gender or sex because what matters is the person in front of me, not general assumptions about superiority which may or may not apply.

On to question number two:

In other words, you believe with a straight face that Valentina Shevchenko would have even odds against Stipe Miocic?

After having looked at these two fighters and their records, I’m going to assume you didn’t do any research because Valentina Shevchenko is a straight up terrible pick for your argument.

We’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s start with the UFC problem.

We’ve talked about the UFC before. Prize fighting is entertainment, the structure of prize fighting is for entertainment, and they will never put forward fights that are not for entertainment. This is gladiator combat, the big brother of the WWE. There is no point in speculating about matchups that will never exist. Given “even odds” are dependent on a betting structure designed to make the fight as exciting as possible rather than be a reflection of skill… well, the obvious answer should be obvious. They wouldn’t give her even odds because the whole point of selling such a the match up in the current UFC system is underdog versus the big dog. Not because it’s true, but because it’s more exciting that way. The UFC would need substantially different rules regarding matchups to give this question any validity.

Why are you insulting these two professional fighters in some mistaken drive to prove male superiority? Why are you foolish enough to assume “odds” mean anything in a sports system designed specifically to drive viewers to bet? The odds are literally the betting odds, and the betting odds are decided by a very different system unrelated to the fighter’s skills. Therefore, they’re not a good source for scientific veracity.

If you’re question is do I think Valentina Shevchenko could fight Stipe Miocic and win, the answer is: have you looked at this woman’s record? She is awesome!

She’s been active since 2003, from 2003 to 2015 Shevchenko collectively won more than 50 amateur/pro matches in K-1, Muay Thai, and kickboxing. She has 81 total bouts today, including UFC, across these three sports to her name. Of those 81, she has 74 wins. Miocic has 21 bouts, and 18 wins. Miocic has been active since 2010. He has 21 and only in the UFC. Miocic is considered the best UFC heavyweight fighter. His major background is wrestling and football, and he has trained in boxing. Shevchenko is considered to be one of the best female Muay Thai fighters in the world. She’s one eight gold medals, five of them consecutive. When she was twelve, she knocked out a twenty-two year old. Her background is taekwondo, Muay Thai, kickboxing, and judo.

I don’t think you did any research before you picked these two off a list. This is why you shouldn’t judge people based off their height, weight, and looks. Between the two fighters, she has vastly more experience and a precision style that specifically counters his. This is a bad match up for him. You should’ve cited Ronda Rousey.

However, it wouldn’t mean anything if he lost and she won or if she lost and he won. The whole argument is pointless because combat in the real world doesn’t care about statistical advantage. Whoever survives wins. There’s more to winning than a weight difference. You’ve already disrespected both these combatants who have impressive backgrounds and accomplishments to prove… what, exactly? Women can’t compete with men in the heavyweight division? Men in the heavyweight division are better fighters than every other division? Or did you choose the heavyweight division and its fighters because it’s the most celebrated one? (Do you not like the welterweights?) You don’t honestly believe Stipe Micocic is the best fighter in the UFC because he’s the current heavyweight champion, do you?

There’s a women’s division in the UFC now. Ten years ago, people like you said there never would be because women either couldn’t fight or no one would want to watch them fight. Yet, here we are. People ignore there’s a long history of female fighters in gladiatorial combat, but it’s there. There are female warriors scattered throughout history, in countless cultures, who fought on many battlefields. After all, Julie d’Aubigny, also known as La Maupin, was one of the finest fencers of her day. She was trained alongside the boys by her father at birth, she fought and defeated many men in duels in 16th century France.

None of this means anything in regards to you anyway. After all, you’re not Stipe Miocic. Stipe Miocic defeating Valentina Shevchenko in a hypothetical contest does nothing for you. It proves nothing for you. Not when Valentina Shevchenko would wipe the floor with both of us. I don’t think you’d want to stand in the ring with her during a fair bout.

Supposed male superiority won’t help you much when the person you’re making comparisons to is light years ahead of you, the person making the assertion. This is why this argument is pointless. Combat is about whether or not you can fight the person in front of you and win, it’s about dealing with the situation you’re in, not some hypothetical best who is over there somewhere. If I’m not fighting them, then, in the moment, I don’t care about them.

I’m not going to worry about men, plural, but the singular man, what he can do and what he can’t. This must be the most terrifying concept for you, that you will be judged not for what you are but who you are. Viewed for your accomplishments, your personality, what you have to offer, and not some predisposed standing society has gifted to you by the benefit of your sex.

Step back, start asking yourself some hard questions about why you need male superiority in all respects to matter. That says more about you than you’re willing to admit.

-Michi

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Q&A: Odd One Out

I was wondering, can three people practice sword fighting at once with each other or would it be better done by adding in a fourth opponent and breaking them into pairs?

I’m assuming you mean three characters “sparring.” Any number of characters can drill simultaneously. That is to say, they go through the motions, they practice individual techniques. There’s no need for a partner, so three characters can do that without any difficulty.

If characters are engaging in mock duels, then rotating someone out is probably the wisest option. There’s not much value in practicing 1 v 2 unless they’re working on an exhibition routine of some sort. (This would include stunt actors, if you’re wondering.)

Having said that, having a third person to watch can help, as they’ll be able to see things that the two participants may miss, and being able to bounce dialog between three people will be less monotonous than trying to manage dialog with just a pair.

Ironically, my recommendation, if you did choose to add a fourth character would still be to only have one pair practicing while the others watched from the sidelines. How, exactly, they rotate out doesn’t matter. For variety’s sake, I’d recommend against it being two specific pairs switching out. You’ll get more value out of the dialog if the characters stay in flux.

Remember, fighting requires a lot of attention, so your sideline participants are at a significant conversation advantage, unless your fighters stop what they’re doing to talk. If that happens it might be a reasonable moment to swap combatants. This isn’t about winners or losers, it’s about practice.

I’ll also throw out our normal warning about sparring: this is about practicing techniques, and learning to assemble them into a viable fighting style, it’s not about two characters fighting in a socially acceptable way. That said, 18th and 19th century European academies were somewhat lax policing their student’s behavior with swords, and there is an entire history of European dueling long after the practice became illegal. So, if your characters are, “playing,” that’s a bad idea, but it was something that happened.

-Starke

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Q&A: Prove it to Yourself, Not to Them

How do you suggest handling people (men who are friends of family, in my experience) who insist women can’t fight even if they have passed the classes they needed (I recently started a job that requires it and these men have been acting ‘concerned’ as if me taking this job is naive). I wanted to include something like this in a story I’m writing, but it would come across as me always thinking women have something to prove, as opposed to something from my own life I’m frustrated about. 🙁

Honestly? They can go fuck themselves.

You’re a grown ass woman. You know what you want. You know what you need to do. You can go get it. Trust that the training you get will help keep you safe, and you’re facing the same threats as the men who also have this job. Remember, real men who value you as a human being are supportive. They don’t equivocate, make differences between the girls and the boys. At most, they’ll talk about the additional threats women face and some approaches for dealing with them but those aren’t news. You already know about those, just like I did. I was fortunate to have a whole slew of these sorts of men as instructors in my martial arts program as a kid, and in a bunch of different martial arts classes I took as a young teen and young adult.

The truth is that men like that often have egos which are very fragile. They crave power and control by controlling the lives of others. They dress their “concerns” up as concerns (and if you’re taking a job that is dangerous, they should have a reason to be concerned) because, well, it’s dangerous for a woman isn’t it? Why don’t you just leave it to the boys? The idea of a woman doing this job makes them uncomfortable. It damages their self-image, because they’d be frightened to do it, because they think women shouldn’t. You need to remember, their comments (while they’re directed at you) are actually about them. These are the men who build their manhood around this culturally enshrined vision that doesn’t really exist. The one where (white) men are faster, stronger, smarter, better, more suited to the hard, violent, dirty jobs. You know the type. These men are weak, entitled, and need others to fail. They need women to consign themselves to the roles that they have assigned them so they can feel strong.

They may dress the damsel up with pretty words about being kind, pretty, sweet, and good often those often relate to their vision of who a woman should be. Nothing dirty, nothing dark, you’re always somewhere safe where you’re quiet, and biddable, and in your place. You’ve gotta be safely up on that pedestal. After all… “That’s just not how I see you, sweetheart.”

While these men are likely not going anywhere, and nothing we say will give them an epiphany or change their minds, you should remember that you don’t need their approval. You don’t need them.

These are men who society has taught they get to spout off like they’re an authority whenever they feel like it, not because they’ve anything of substance to add or done anything to deserve sharing their opinion but because they’re (white) men. There’s nothing that terrifies this type of man more than irrelevance. And, the second you realize that the power they think they have over you because of a family connection or your gender is only there if you give that power to them, that you can take that power away, that their opinion doesn’t control you, is the moment you’re free.

Now, that’s going to be difficult because society teaches women (in a variety of different ways) that we should let other people’s (usually older men’s) opinions decide who we are and what we can be. We can’t always change someone’s opinion, but we can decide whether we let their opinion affect us. We don’t need to be liked, we don’t need their approval, we don’t need them to decide our course for us. Their opinion is theirs, but we can decide otherwise. This is your life, not theirs. Learning to trust yourself when you’ve been taught your whole life that you can’t, that you need outside guidance, that outside opinions define the reality by which you live, is hard. You can do it, though. You went into your job with eyes wide open, you knew the risks, and you decided to take them because you’re an adult.

Putting these experiences into your writing can be a great way to work through your frustrations with people in your life. However, the power fantasy that usually rings hollow is the one where a chauvinist or misogynist turns around and realizes that yes, you really can do it once they see or experience it first hand. This is the fantasy your fear that you’d be writing “women have something to prove” is coming from. The reason why this fantasy sucks is because it puts the importance on the man’s acceptance of the woman’s truth, and sends the message his acceptance legitimizes her.

You’d make her proving herself about the men in her life rather than about her journey.

True power comes from realizing you don’t need to prove anything. You were always powerful all on your own. You gained confidence through your own sweat, blood, and tears. You conquered your frustrations, pushed past the doubters, shook off the detractors, and walked into the sunlight on your own power. The greatest empowerment comes from self-acceptance and self-love. In self-actualization, you realize loving yourself is the greatest gift you can give. You’re confident in yourself and comfortable in your own skin. You’ll realize you never needed those men and their approval anyway, and if they come around, well, that’s great… for them. Their decision won’t really affect you or your emotional health and well-being. You’ll just be rolling your eyes less at family dinners.

In your writing, you can practice not caring. You can have your characters try, and try. They may fail, they may succeed. It may take multiple drafts until you find the right note. Finding the strength to be your own person without the safety or approval provided by authority figures in your life is a real life issue both men and women struggle with. You just need to make sure you’re focusing on the character’s personal development and self-realization (“Yes, I can!”) rather than their actions being a source of proof that their detractors are wrong.

The people who doubt you don’t get to decide who you are.

You do.

– Michi

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Q&A: Ignoring the Pain

hi, is it realistic for a secret agent to become ‘immune’ to pain if they’ve had to experience a lot? i was watching a tv show the other week and the main guy is an ex-cia agent and it says that he has become highly resistant to pain. if this is possible/realistic how long would they have to train for to become resistant to pain?

You don’t really develop an immunity to pain. There is a serious medical condition where the sufferer doesn’t have any pain response at all, and this can easily result in fairly serious injuries, because they have no warning when they’re being harmed.

You also don’t really become resistant to pain. You’ll still feel the pain. That’s not going anywhere. However, intense physical conditioning can teach you to distinguish between pain you need to worry about, and pain that you can file as a problem for tomorrow.

In case it’s unclear, I’m not talking about something specific hand-to-hand training here. Pretty much any strenuous athletic ability will teach you this, whether you like it or not.

Your body will gleefully lie to you and say that something hurts and you should stop when you’re fine, it’s just uncomfortable. At the same time, pain is something to be aware of, because it can indicate that something really is going wrong.

A character can learn to distinguish between different kinds of pain, but, it’s not really an immunity or resistance, even if those terms probably get the concept across.

A character can make a decision to ignore pain that indicates something’s wrong, and simply power through. This comes with all the problems associated with aggravating an existing wound. So, not behavior we’d normally encourage, but characters sometimes have more pressing considerations than their long term health. Hell, real people have problems with that, and can tend to ignore pain they really shouldn’t until its too late.

Conditioning teaches you to distinguish between kinds of pain, but it also teaches you how to push past it. Like I said, your body will complain about discomfort long before it transitions into actual harm.

Being able to power through pain isn’t really something to brag about. Ironically, it’s something that sounds less badass than the actual act is. Saying, “I’m immune to pain,” is kinda stupid; while a character who keeps pushing themselves and fighting, even as it’s killing them, can be make for a pretty effective sequence.

Ultimately, claiming resistance to pain is kinda pointless because you’re not immune to injury. Though it does remind me of the, “gain immunity to bullets by eating smaller bullets,” joke.

Is it realistic that an ex-CIA agent is unusually good at powering through pain? Yeah, sort of. Ignoring for a moment that spies are not superheroes, yeah, it’s reasonable that he’d be pretty good at ignoring pain. Not, “immune” or “resistant” to it, but I wouldn’t strongly fault someone for using those terms.

Is it realistic for a spy to gain immunity to pain from experiencing lots of it? No, not at all. This a very different question from the example. If someone’s suffered repeated trauma over their career, there’s a real risk they’ll suffer from chronic pain. So, they’ll be in a more impaired state. Chronic pain is no joke, it’s not something you can ignore, it doesn’t improve your relationship with pain. It sucks.

If you’ve got a spy who’s been beaten to hell and back many times over the course of their career, they’re going to be a mess. At that point, “immune to pain,” would be a sick joke. Now, I could see someone using that line in relation to emotional pain. It’d be a dark joke, but when has that ever stopped anyone?

-Starke

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Q&A: Broken Wrist

Hei, I just have a realistic question on fighting whilst injured sort of question, My MC has a broken wrist in a solid cast but is forced to fight for her life in a small corridor to snowy outdoors. She’s a highly trained agent but does get injured further by her assailant who is also highly trained t and much bigger, Would it be realist that her injuries (the wrist, a stab wound to the thigh, stunning blows to her head) would render her ability to fight useless in the long run?

So, three things.

First: Size is completely irrelevant. The faster you come to grips with that, the better off you’ll be. If you don’t know anything about combat, size can be intimidating. Being bigger does not mean your punches hit harder. It doesn’t mean you can take more hits. It doesn’t make you’re more resistant to throw. Your character has been trained; she would know all of this. At that point, dwelling on the size difference is just generating false drama.

If you’re trained, a large foe is just a bigger target.

A character who is in better physical condition is a serious threat. That’s not a function of size. Someone who’s 6’3″ can easily be laid out by a scrappy 5’nothing who exercises regularly, and keeps their training sharp.

When it comes to condition, your character is at a huge disadvantage, and it has nothing to do with size; it’s their wrist. Usually we think of “condition,” in the context of if they’re physically fit, but injuries, illness, and other impairments are relevant. Your character could be a top grade fighter, but if they’re drunk, that’s going to seriously impact their ability to fight.

Broken bones are a huge liability in a live fight. If it’s on a limb (including the wrist) you can’t use that limb at all. If it’s a broken rib, there’s a real danger that any blow to your core could force it into your internal organs resulting in some nasty hemorrhaging.

In the case of your wrist, a broken forearm means you really cannot use that limb for anything. Even in the cast. Abusing it by trying to block or parry is a good way to permanently lose the use of that hand. Best case, she may only need surgery to repair the additional damage inflicted.

Second: The first rule of self defense is avoiding situations where you’ll need to use your training. Violence is a bit chaotic, and even if you really know what you’re doing, you’re still at risk of suffering serious harm. The best way to avoid that happening is not putting yourself in that situation to begin with.

It isn’t possible to avoid all potential threats. The entire reason self-defense training exists is an acknowledgement that, sometimes, things happen outside your control. Sometimes an assailant will attack in a, “safe,” area. Sometimes you simply need to traverse spaces that aren’t secure.

When you’re writing a character who’s been trained, it’s worth remembering that this will influence their behavior. For example: If your character is going someplace unfamiliar, they’re not going to do it alone, and wounded, unless they really have no other option. In a situation like this, it would be better to bring allies, or not go at all and send others. Your character is wounded, if she has option to, she should avoid fieldwork until she’s fully healed.

Third: Let’s reconstruct this for a second. Your character is attacked by a highly trained assailant. He has a knife. His goal is to harm your character. Why doesn’t he simply shank her, confirm the kill, and move on with his day?

If the expectation is that she’ll have her head bounced off the wall (or something else) resulting in a minor concussion, why didn’t he simply kill her.

Again, one of the wounds was a stab into the thigh. Ignoring for the moment that taking a blade to the upper leg can be very dangerous, depending on where it connects, if he’s in possession of the weapon and willing to use it on her, there is no way your character walks away from this fight at all.

Even in the most generous situations, he’s stabbing her, she knows who he is (or could potentially ID him), there’s no reason to let her live. And, of course, if he’s willing to stab her in the leg, and bouncing her head off of something solid enough to inflict a concussion, he’s certainly willing to kill her.

This gets back to the reason behind the second point; you don’t put yourself in dangerous situations without cause, because it can turn nasty, fast.

If the male character is the attacker, tracking her down and initiating the fight, then there really is no reason for him to let her live. His goal is to neutralize her, and the safest way to do that is to kill her.

As a writer, you need to look at violence as a tool in your story. Your characters will resort to violence based on who they are. A well-written character needs concrete goals. These don’t always need to be communicated to the reader, some can inferred, but, they need goals. At that point, their decision to engage in violence needs to be compatible.

If your assailant is highly trained, and bringing a knife to the fight, they’re planning to kill your character. At that point, it’s not going to be much a fight scene. A chase maybe, but if he catches up and puts a blade in her leg, she’s toast.

Now, maybe there’s justification for all of this, which doesn’t show up in the ask, but, it is something to be very careful of. Injuries to your characters aren’t simply damage tracking. They’re persistent effects that should influence future sections of your story. In fairness, that’s sort of here, but at that point you do need to keep track of how severe these injuries would be, and how debilitating it would be to stack them up. Part of the reason why you rarely see writers stacking more than one or two injuries on a character, it becomes a lot of work to keep track of how badly hurt they are.

-Starke

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Q&A: Sparring

My protagonist needs to win a “friendly” spar against a fellow Marine who has at least six inches and a hundred pounds on her. How does she beat him? He’s a bodybuilder who’s more into the aesthetic of strength than actual balanced fitness, so she probably has the edge in endurance and agility, but as long as they’re both at least pretending they’re not trying to seriously hurt each other, his sheer size still seems like it outweighs everything else.

I’m going to take issue with some things here.

We’ve said this before, but, apparently this needs to be discussed again. Sparring isn’t about winning or losing, it’s a part of your training.

Sparring is not, “play fighting,” it’s about learning to put techniques together.

Most of martial arts training consists of practicing the motions until they are reflexive and second nature. It’s about retraining your body until you don’t have to think about what you’re going to do, and simply do it. This won’t win a fight, for that you need to learn to transition smoothly from one technique to the next.

Sparring is the process of learning to turn the techniques you drilled with into something you could actually use against a real opponent.

Sparring isn’t about winning or losing. It’s not a low stakes fight your characters can do to show off. It’s your character learning to chain their techniques together.

How’s she going to beat him? She’s certified in MCMAP. She’ll do it using her training. But, they’re both trained in MCMAP, so this is the next issue.

When it comes to creating a character, who they are is the sum of their experiences, training, and views. Your characters are Marines.

Your marine can’t weight 100 lbs more than her. At most, he can weigh about 60 lbs more than her. This is because the Marines have very strict weight requirements. If your character is 66 inches tall, she must weigh between 117 and 170 lbs. Now, the Marines kinda expect her to be trending towards the upper end of that spectrum, because muscle mass is heavy.

If your character is 66 inches tall and her foe has six inches on her, that’d put him at 72 inches (6 feet), and he can weigh between 140 and 184.

See the problem? He literally cannot exceed her weight by 100 lbs with them both passing physical. You can adjust the heights a bit, but, without pulling apart the entire chart, there’s just not enough range for that kind of weight difference unless he’s much taller than her.

This is also where the whole, body builder idea doesn’t quite work. Marines are specifically pushed towards balanced fitness. The goal is to turn out effective combatants, not meatheads who think their pecs of steel will stop a bullet.

I get that the idea here was to show up the misogynistic meathead, but that’s not a marine.

Also, stereotypes aside, I’ve never met a dumb marine. A few idiots who were in the army, and at least one navy vet prone to dubious life choices, but never a marine. They’re weird, but not dumb.

The military’s training structure prioritizes teamwork. They are not single operators, they are a unit. They train with their unit, and fight with their unit. Soldiers live and die by their ability to work together. All the hellish training Marines go through is there in part to build that bond, not just between individuals but with everyone who shares a similar experience.

You don’t need to prove your female character can fight. She’s a Marine. She can kill someone. She’s trained to do it. That’s not a question. Writing a sparring session on the idea she needs to win puts you in the wrong mindset, because, again, sparring is not about winning or losing. Sparring is all about figuring out how to use the skills you’ve been drilling in a free-flow environment where you act and react to an opponent.

If you don’t believe me, let’s quote the Marine’s own training manual:

1. PURPOSE. The purpose of body sparring is to bridge from static to dynamic and inoculation to interpersonal violence.

a. Bridge from Static to Dynamic. Body sparring is the bridge between static punches and a dynamic environment. This is the final stage of training after executing punches in the air and on pads. Free sparring gives Marines the opportunity to apply the individual techniques they have learned in a realistic environment with a live resisting opponent. Executing techniques one at a time in the air is much different than using them together against another person who is defending themselves and also trying to hurt you.

b .Inoculation to Interpersonal Violence. Inoculation is the process of introducing something to the body so it can defend itself in the future. By introducing Marines to violence on a personal level, they will be more prepared for a real close combat scenario.

This is a learning experience, not a contest.

Sparring is just about providing a live experience with a resisting partner, not an exercise in who can hurt the other more.

The part you’re having an issue with is that you don’t know what it is Marines are trained to do. The good news is they make their training manuals available online. So, in the event you’re willing and able to do the research, you can write an entire sequence that is up to code.

2. CONDUCT OF THE BOUT. Free sparring is a training tool designed to develop Marines’ skills and confidence, and must not become a fight club or beat-down.

This is the problem with almost all sparring sequences in fiction. If you’re using it for dramatic tension then you’ve already sabotaged the purpose of the exercise, and your character’s own training. No competent instructor will pair up two people who have a legitimate beef with each other, because neither will learn anything from it. Any instructor who wants to stack the deck against a misogynistic meathead will stack the deck so hard against him that he can’t win, and has no method of recourse. They use someone who has already finished training or one of the TAs. They can also turn it into a good learning exercise for said meathead about making assumptions and assuming size matters. There’s nothing like the experience of someone half your size tossing you around the room to bring the point home.

However, it won’t be your female character currently in training who makes that point. She can’t. She doesn’t have the experience or the skill for the defeat to be so total that it sticks in the student’s memory forever. The woman who makes this example will be someone who has finished their training. This teaches your male students a valuable lesson and gives your female students motivation, and a reminder to work towards when the going gets tough.

The only way this scenario works on face value with the antagonism angle is if she’s sparring someone much greener than her who she has no problems turning into mush.

b. Maturity. All Marines must control their egos and tempers at all times. Marines who demonstrate immaturity, lack of control, or unsportsmanlike conduct will not be allowed to participate.

Sparring is not a free space to beat the crap out of someone you don’t like. The only grading score here is that you can achieve a kill with a simulated weapon before your opponent. That’s all the Marines care about. And in case you thought they didn’t have rules for girls… you were wrong.

b. Safety Gear. The safety gear required for body sparring is head gear, mouthpiece, 16 ounce (minimum) boxing gloves, and groin protection. Females must also wear a flak jacket for added protection for the female anatomy.

Did you envision your characters wearing protection in this sparring session? They better be.

Remember…

Training not only the physical but also the mental is crucial to the development of the combative mindset. Body sparring prepares the Marine to function when faced with stress and violence. These skills are the building block to developing the physical skills and combative mindset vital to success on the battlefield.

Whatever other goals for this scene you may have as a writer, you want to keep the above in mind. This is what your characters’ sparring session is for. If they are not learning this lesson through this training in your narrative then you are failing them as well as yourself. You are also failing in showing their combat ability and professionalism. Marine is a mindset, it is a profession, and will become a core part of your character’s personal identity. If you haven’t begun researching who the Marines are, what they do, what their outlook on life is, and how they behave… now would be good time to start. This is who your character (male or female) is going to be at the end of their training.

How does your character “win”? By using her training. Now, go take another look at MCMAP (Marine Corps Martial Arts Program.)

Everything Milspec has to be available publicly. If you want to write soldiers, say thank you to Uncle Sam. You can read up on all of the training documentation online. Therefore, there is no excuse for you not to do your homework. They will tell you exactly how the Marines handle sparring, put together by Marines for Marines, and you too can follow the training outline.

I will leave you with this last instructor note:

Unsafe Conditions. It is the referee’s, and RSO’s, responsibility to immediately stop the fight if they see any unsafe condition such as a defenseless fighter, safety gear problems, or if a fighter is injured. A fighter is defenseless if they appear unable or unwilling to intelligently defend themselves by exposing their back, falling to the ground, dropping their weapons,or dropping theirs hands. If any safety gear is unserviceable, missing, or not fitted properly the fight must be stopped to correct the problem. If a fighter appears to be injured, by screaming or yelling, the fight must be stopped. Once the unsafe condition is corrected, the referee will restart the fight.

-Starke & Michi

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Q&A: Heavy Infantry

i feel like usually in fantasy settings you see characters combine super heavy armour with an equally heavy weapon, like a warhammer or a battleaxe, but how feasible is this realistically? i feel like the combined weight of both alongside the full body motion needed to control the weapon would wear someone out ridiculously fast, even if they are trained and have a lot of endurance

The first thing to remember is that, heavy weapons, weren’t really that heavy. Real warhammers often weighed less than 3 lbs. Even the heaviest battle axes rarely weighed more than 5 lbs.

Now, fantasy art can get kinda goofy. That’s reasonable enough, and can result with situations where you have cartoonishly exaggerated proportions on the weapons. This is where you end up with warhammers that look like supermassive sledges, and busterswords.

It’s also reasonable, in some situations, to see a character using a sledgehammer as an improvised weapon. Most sledges will run around 8lbs though you can buy much heavier ones. Pretty much anything your character’s doing will get by fine with an 8lb sledge. That is heavy, as weapons go.

So, yes, when you’re talking about characters in fantasy wielding supermassive weapons, that would quickly exhaust a real fighter. Sometimes this is just artistic license, sometimes there’s justification in setting (ex: if the characters aren’t human), and sometimes it’s legitimately an oversight. “But, Oblivion said my character could wield a 62lb greatsword!”

Armor does get much heavier. This where you’ll often see legitimate problems with the fighter wearing out quickly in the real world.

I’m not as confident on the weights of historical armor off the top my head, but 60-80lbs of armor wasn’t unreasonable for plate. And, yeah, someone could train, and get used to, that extra weight. The idea that someone could carry an extra hundred pounds of armor on them isn’t any stranger than the idea that someone who weighs 300lbs could still be physically active.

Armor can wear you out, but that more to do with heat. Armor is very effective at trapping body heat, and that heat will exhaust you. This is something you can learn to work with, but it’s why fighting in armor requires conditioning. The extra weight is a reasonable tradeoff for the the protection you get.

Again, artistic license will see comically exaggerated armor. It depends on the exact source you’re looking at. So, if you see someone walking around wrapped in what looks like half a ’57 Chevy, that’s probably not going to work. (There’s an edge case here where you could see armor that heavy if it is self-carrying. Though, that’s rare in fantasy, and more of a sci-fi thing.)

Armor needs to be maneuverable. You can find videos of people wearing full plate and doing handstands or basic gymnastics in the stuff. If your armor seriously impairs your movement, it’s not going to allow you to fight in it. This can be an oversight by an artist who doesn’t understand this, and that’s a fault with their design. There’s also a few rare outliers like jousting armor, which did impair movement, but was designed for very specific situations, and not combat.

Lack of mobility is something that you’ll sometimes see with heavy utility armor. For example: hazardous environmental suits may not give you a full range of movement, but if you’re not going to be fighting in them, that’s not a problem. However, when you’re designing armor for combat, if you can’t fight in it, it won’t work.

Heavy infantry did combine heavy armor and heavy weapons. There’s real history there. But, that can be played up in art. There’s nothing inherently wrong with playing fantasy out of the realistic. Even stuff like Lord of the Rings is, ultimately, more about superhuman characters, rather than any reality of historical combat. So, it depends on the story you’re going for. A world filled with wizards, monsters, and epic heroes can absolutely have an over the top comic book aesthetic. They may even be able to justify it against objective reality. The characters are wearing armor forged from some mystical metal, or enchanted to augment the wearer’s strength and endurance. Whatever the cause, it is defensible as an art design.

-Starke

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