Action scenes are exciting to write. Swords clash. Bullets fly. Dragons dive. Heroes run for their lives. Unfortunately, many writers become so eager to reach the action that they forget to tell the reader where the action is taking place. The result is often a confusing scene where characters seem to teleport around the battlefield because the audience never had a mental map to begin with.
Imagine reading, “John ducked behind the truck.” What truck? Was it beside him? Across the street? Was he in a parking lot, on a farm, or outside a warehouse? A single sentence describing the surroundings before the shooting started would have answered all of those questions.
Readers don’t need an architect’s blueprint, but they do need enough information to orient themselves. Before the first punch is thrown or the first spell is cast, they should know the important landmarks. Is there a doorway? A staircase? A cliff? A river? A crowded marketplace? These become the pieces on the chessboard, and once the game begins, readers can follow every move.
This doesn’t require pages of description. In fact, it shouldn’t. A few carefully chosen details are usually enough. Tell readers where the exits are, what obstacles stand in the way, and what objects are likely to become important. Once those landmarks are established, you rarely need to describe them again. The reader has already built the scene in their imagination.
Think of a stage play. Before the actors begin speaking, the audience sees the set. They know where the door is, where the table stands, and where the staircase leads. The actors don’t have to stop in the middle of the performance to explain where everything is because the audience already understands the space. Your descriptions should accomplish the same thing.
This becomes even more important during complicated action. Suppose two characters are fighting in a library. If the reader knows there are tall bookshelves, reading tables, a balcony overlooking the main floor, and a spiral staircase in the corner, then every movement makes sense. One fighter can leap onto a table, another can retreat up the stairs, or someone can be knocked over the balcony railing. None of these events feel random because the reader knew those features existed before they became important.
Writers sometimes try to solve this problem by describing the room while the fight is already underway. That usually has the opposite effect. Action naturally speeds up the reader’s pace. Stopping to explain where the windows are while someone is swinging a sword interrupts the momentum instead of helping it. The best time to orient the reader is before the excitement begins.
This principle extends beyond battles. Conversations, mysteries, romances, and even quiet scenes benefit from clear geography. Knowing that two people are sitting on opposite sides of a fireplace or walking along a cliff overlooking the sea adds context that shapes how readers imagine the scene. The setting becomes part of the story instead of an empty backdrop.
One final caution: don’t hide important objects simply because you want to surprise the reader later. If the hero escapes through a trapdoor that was never mentioned before, readers are more likely to feel cheated than impressed. Good surprises grow naturally from details that were already present. Mention the trapdoor earlier, even if it’s only in passing, and the eventual escape feels clever instead of convenient.
Before your characters begin acting, take a moment to let your readers look around. Once they know where they are, they’ll be able to follow the action wherever it leads.