A stunt coordinator will rewrite your moves. Nobody is going to rewrite your reasons.

TL;DR. Most fight scenes read like a training manual, because a story problem got treated as a choreography problem. Three things keep a fight from being noise. Somebody has to want something specific, and survival doesn't count. The reader has to be able to hold the room, which takes one or two concrete objects you then use. And winning has to cost the winner something we watch them pay. Get those right and the moves take care of themselves. The stunt coordinator will rewrite your moves anyway, and nobody is going to rewrite your reasons.

Why do most fight scenes read like a manual?

Left jab, right cross, parry, pivot, low kick, block. By the third line the reader has lost track of who was winning, what they wanted, and why any of it matters. The fight ends, the story continues, nothing has changed.

That's rarely a research problem. The writer usually knows plenty about fighting, and that's part of what went wrong, because the knowledge had somewhere to go and it went onto the page. Technical detail ended up doing the job that story was supposed to do.

It also doesn't survive production. Whatever you write will be re-blocked by a stunt coordinator working with the actual space, the actual actors and the actual insurance. The moves are the one part of your fight scene that is guaranteed to change.

What does a character have to want?

Something specific, and staying alive doesn't count, because everyone in every fight wants that and it tells us nothing about these two people.

The cliff duel in The Princess Bride is the cleanest case I know. William Goldman wrote it from his own novel and Rob Reiner directed. Inigo Montoya is hunting the six-fingered man who killed his father, and he's been waiting twenty years for the chance. The man in black is trying to get away with Buttercup. Neither one actually wants to hurt the other, and they're so courteous about it that the winner knocks the loser out instead of killing him.

The fencing is beautiful and it isn't what anybody remembers. What people remember is two men being polite to each other while trying to win, and finding out they like each other, which is a thing that could only happen because each of them wanted something the other one wasn't.

That's the test. If you swapped these two characters for two other competent fighters, would the scene change? If not, the wants aren't specific yet.

How much space does a reader need?

Less than you think, and more than most drafts give them.

One or two concrete things, named early, then used. The stairs behind her. The knife already on the counter. The door that opens inward. A reader who can see two objects can hold the whole room, and the action stops floating.

The failure mode is geography delivered as inventory. Four paragraphs describing a warehouse before anybody throws a punch is not spatial awareness, it's a location report, and the reader forgets it by the time it matters. Name the thing in the same breath as the action that uses it, and name it again right before it pays off.

The other failure mode is objects that never come back. If you put a knife on the counter and nobody touches it, you've spent the reader's attention on set dressing.

Why do emotional stakes decide whether the fight lands?

Because a fight with nothing after it is a fight nobody needs.

Casino Royale, directed by Martin Campbell and written by Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and Paul Haggis. Bond kills two men in a stairwell and wins, violently and at close range. Then he finds Vesper sitting under the running shower in her dress, still in shock, and he sits down beside her in the water. Neither of them says much.

That scene is why the stairwell works. Winning cost him something, and we watch him pay, and the payment happens somewhere quiet after the violence is over. Cut the shower and the stairwell is just a well-staged kill.

So the question isn't whether your fight is exciting. It's what it costs the person who wins, and whether you've given yourself a scene in which to show that.

Where do writers put the detail instead?

In the moves, and there's a better place for it.

Put the specificity in what the fight reveals rather than in how it's performed. A character who fights efficiently, or dirty, or like someone who learned it somewhere institutional, is telling you about their life, and one line can carry it. A character who stops to check whether the other person can still breathe has told you something a page of dialogue couldn't.

Put it in the damage, too. Not gore, consequences. Somebody who gets hit in the ribs in act two should still be favoring that side in act three, and the audience will notice and believe the whole film a little more.

And put it in the pacing. Short paragraphs read fast. A fight written in long blocks reads slow no matter how violent it is, which is why the white space on the page is doing more work than the verbs.

What do you cut?

Any move that doesn't change the situation.

A fight is a sequence of reversals, not a sequence of strikes. Each beat should move the advantage, close an exit, break something, or tell us a new fact. If you can delete three lines and the next beat still follows, those three lines were choreography.

Then cut the second half of the fight if the outcome stopped being in doubt there. Most drafts keep going after the question is answered, because the writer is enjoying it. The reader isn't.

Before you move on, run this checklist

What does each character want, specifically, and would the scene change if I swapped in two different fighters?

Does anybody want something other than to survive?

Where are they, and have I named one or two objects a reader can hold?

Did I use those objects, or are they decoration?

What does winning cost the one who wins, and which scene shows the audience that cost?

Does the damage carry forward into later scenes?

Can I delete any three lines without breaking what follows?

Does the fight keep going after the outcome stopped being in doubt?

If I cut this scene entirely, what would the story lose?

If that last question has no answer, the problem was never the choreography, so cut it and put the pages somewhere else. Open your draft to the fight, write down what each person wants in one sentence each, and if the two sentences are the same sentence, you've found the work.

---

Sources. The Princess Bride was written by William Goldman from his own novel and directed by Rob Reiner; Casino Royale was directed by Martin Campbell and written by Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and Paul Haggis. Both films' credits and the scenes described are from their Wikipedia entries. Everything else here is how I work.

By Barbara Ross • November 6, 2026
Octavia Butler wrote it to herself in 1988, twenty years into rejection slips and temp jobs.
By Barbara Ross • November 5, 2026
Give them something to do that only they would do.
By Barbara Ross • November 4, 2026
The work itself is the only payment you're guaranteed.
By Barbara Ross • November 2, 2026
A camera records what is there. A negative only plays when the absence has a visible shape.
By Barbara Ross • November 1, 2026
A spending quota changes how much money moves, not who the buyer can already find.
By Barbara Ross • October 31, 2026
Pick one dark trait as the engine, write the other two weaker, and give them something they are good at.
By Barbara Ross • October 30, 2026
Two Virginia Woolf lines going around right now are not hers, and the real one is better.
By Barbara Ross • October 29, 2026
They decide what your movie looks like, and you hire one in prep, earlier than you think.
By Barbara Ross • October 28, 2026
Most of them do nothing for your career and a few do everything, and the difference is who is in the building.
By Barbara Ross • October 27, 2026
It's a rights market, not a script market, so a spec has nothing to transact there.
By Barbara Ross • October 23, 2026
She stopped waiting for better parts and built a company to make her own.
By Barbara Ross • October 21, 2026
You already are one, whether you admit it or not.
By Barbara Ross • October 20, 2026
Find out whether you have a story-length problem or a writing-length problem before you cut anything.
By Barbara Ross • October 19, 2026
Build the midpoint as a rehearsal for the ending, the same choice at a lower price.
By Barbara Ross • October 17, 2026
Reach on a social platform is rented, and a list is owned.
By Barbara Ross • October 16, 2026
Being first is timing and somebody's open door. Lasting is the craft.
By Barbara Ross • October 15, 2026
Repetition is how you teach an audience the rules of your story, and an audience that knows the rules can run ahead of you.
By Barbara Ross • October 14, 2026
The affair confrontation is an information scene, and the first line out of the guilty character's mouth is a question.
By Barbara Ross • October 13, 2026
There are two kinds of fake ticking clock, and they run on different rules.
By Barbara Ross • October 13, 2026
A package is what lets somebody else write a check. The cast list is the piece that moves the number.
By Barbara Ross • October 9, 2026
The citation says new forms, which means the unclassifiable part is the part they rewarded.
Social card for the post, screenwriter Barbara J. Ross beside the headline She Was First. That Wasn'
By Barbara J. Ross • October 9, 2026
Anita Loos was the first woman staff screenwriter in Hollywood. The more interesting fact is the sixty eight years of work that came after.
Social card for the post, screenwriter Barbara J. Ross beside the headline Intercutting Scenes
By Barbara J. Ross • October 8, 2026
An intercut is not a transition. Three questions that tell you whether you have one, with The Godfather and The Silence of the Lambs as proof.
Social card for the post, screenwriter Barbara J. Ross beside the headline Writing the Text Message
By Barbara J. Ross • October 7, 2026
Text scenes fail when you write the transcript. Write the gap instead: the typing indicator, the delete, the message nobody answers.
Social card for the post, screenwriter Barbara J. Ross beside the headline The Oldest Thing in the F
By Barbara J. Ross • October 6, 2026
Your opening scene is the oldest thing in the file. Four questions to ask it, with The Godfather and Sunset Boulevard as the working examples.
Social card for the post, screenwriter Barbara J. Ross beside the headline Do You Pay the Sales Agent and the Distributor?
By Barbara J. Ross • October 5, 2026
Part two on film sales: when a sales agent commissions the license fee, when a distributor's margin is already priced in, and where the fees stack.
Quote card reading I owe my greatest success to women, Frances Marion, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • October 2, 2026
Frances Marion was the highest paid screenwriter in Hollywood and the first woman to win an Oscar for writing. A woman gave her the first job.
Social card reading One Finds the Buyer, One Is the Buyer, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • October 1, 2026
A sales agent works for you. A distributor is the buyer. Calling the wrong one first costs first-time filmmakers real money.
Social card reading 35% of Everything Except You, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 30, 2026
California’s film credit now pays up to 35% on a $750 million pool. Writers are non-qualified spend, and here is why that still matters.
Social card reading NDA or Not to NDA, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 29, 2026
Almost nobody will sign a writer’s NDA. What a submission release actually says, and where to protect the work instead.
Quote card: Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim - Nora Ephron, on the Barbara J. Ross screenwriting blog
By Barbara J. Ross • September 25, 2026
Nora Ephron told Wellesley graduates to be the heroine, not the victim. For screenwriters, that line is a business instruction, not a sentiment.
Light blue blog card reading Ticking Clocks, tagged On Screenwriting, with a photo of Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 24, 2026
A ticking clock is a deadline the audience can count. Not a mood, a number that gets smaller while they watch. A deadline with no consequence is a calendar.
Light blue blog card reading Scene Buttons, tagged On Screenwriting, with a photo of Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 23, 2026
A button is the last beat of a scene, the line that makes the cut feel decided. The best one is already in the scene, one beat before you stopped.
Light blue blog card reading Writing the Phone Call, tagged On Screenwriting, with a photo of Barbar
By Barbara J. Ross • September 22, 2026
A phone call takes away everything you usually use. It's only half a scene, and you write the other half: what each person does, and what each one can't see.
Light blue blog card reading Chain of Title, tagged On Business, with a photo of screenwriter Barbar
By Barbara J. Ross • September 21, 2026
Chain of title is the paper trail that proves who owns the story. If a lawyer can't draw a clean line from the idea to you, the script can't be bought.
Dark blue quote card reading A woman's best protection is a little money of her own, credited to Cla
By Barbara J. Ross • September 18, 2026
Clare Boothe Luce knew what it took to get into those rooms. Having your own money isn't about being rich. It's about being able to say no and to walk out.
Blog card reading Voiceovers, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara Ross on a dark blue background
By Barbara J. Ross • September 17, 2026
Voiceover isn't cheating, but captioning the frame is. Goodfellas and Sunset Boulevard show the difference, and one test tells you which one you wrote.
Blog card reading Writing the Sex Scene, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara Ross on a dark blue ba
By Barbara J. Ross • September 16, 2026
The good sex scenes are negotiations. Write the decision, not the choreography, and remember the agent and the line producer read the pages too.
Blog card reading What the Deal Memo Locks In, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara Ross on a dark b
By Barbara J. Ross • September 15, 2026
The deal memo takes an afternoon and the lawyers argue from it for a year. Credit, rewrite steps, bonus triggers, reversion: know your three before the call.
Blog card reading Know Who You're Pitching, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara Ross on a dark blue
By Barbara J. Ross • September 14, 2026
Lenders don't buy scripts. Fifteen minutes of research tells you whether the name on your desk is equity or debt, and whether your pitch has any chance.
Quote card reading They called you difficult, you were just the only one telling the truth, by Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 11, 2026
Difficult is what they call you when you ask who is paying and want the credit in writing. It describes the inconvenience, not your temperament.
Social card reading Writing Twists That Don't Cheat, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 10, 2026
Withheld information is not a twist, it is a trick. A real twist uses what the audience already had and shows them they read it wrong.
Social card reading What's On the Nose, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 9, 2026
On-the-nose dialogue kills a scene because it leaves the audience nothing to do. The fix is not vagueness. It is giving the character something else to want.
Social card reading What the Sales Agent Tells the Buyer, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 8, 2026
The buyer asks who else is looking. That answer, not your draft, is what moves the number. What agents are really managing is scarcity.
Social card reading Tax Credits Producers Chase, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 7, 2026
Georgia pays up to 30 percent back on qualified spend. That credit decides where your movie shoots, often before anyone reads your pages.
Quote card reading They told you it was too emotional, it was just true, by Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 4, 2026
Too emotional is the note you get when the scene is working and the room is uncomfortable. Keep the line. Cut the three around it that explain it.
Social card reading The Flashback That Earns an Interruption, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 3, 2026
A flashback that only explains is a footnote. The one that works takes something the audience already watched and makes it mean the opposite.
Social card reading The Character Who Only Says Yes, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 2, 2026
A character whose job is to agree cannot generate a scene. Give her a want that costs your protagonist something, or cut her lines entirely.
Social card reading The Back End Never Arrives, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • September 1, 2026
Net profit is a defined term written by the people who have to pay it. Negotiate fixed compensation, production bonuses and gross-defined escalators instead.
Social card reading Turnaround Your Script Might Actually Survive, with a photo of screenwriter Barbara J. Ross
By Barbara J. Ross • August 31, 2026
Turnaround is not a death sentence. It is a number the next buyer has to clear before a single new page exists. Columbia put E.T. in turnaround.
Show More