Write Like a Martial Artist

Signing up for weekly Taekwondo classes has got to be one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself as an adult. I had no prior experience in martial arts, but within a few months of signing up, I had not only begun to better my physical abilities, but I had also found a wonderful community to connect with. Most notably, Taekwondo helped me to develop a new depth of self-confidence and emotional strength that has helped me to kick back (literally) against anxiety and depression.

Like so many things in life, martial arts hold a plethora of insights into the writer’s craft. Here are a few that I’ve picked up since beginning my training.

Embrace the rhythm of rest and power

This is my favourite lesson that I have learned since starting Taekwondo. While leading the class through our patterns, my instructor reminds us to relax between movements. Each block or strike is followed by a moment of release as you take a breath. This inhalation helps to fortify you with the strength you need to move into the next form, which is done on an exhale. Inhale and rest. Exhale and move with strength. Over and over again through each pattern.

I love the idea of making room for moments of softening in our lives. We can’t possibly exert all of our energy all of the time. Instead, those moments of inhalation, when we rest and prepare for the next step, need to become a part of our rhythm.

It’s the same in writing. There are times to push—to strike hard and fast with your words—and there are times when it is better to be still. If you don’t allow yourself the chance to take a breath, your movements will become brittle and unsustainable. Writers must give themselves the permission to wait—whether that means waiting for an idea to formulate, waiting for the necessary energy to approach a scene, or waiting for a project to aerate before we return to edit it with fresh eyes. It’s not just a good idea to release our stress on a regular basis; it’s imperative, both for your sake and the sake of our readers.

The act of waiting can introduce fresh life into a project. It is the inhale, the oxygen that floods the system and restores strength. If you are in a season of waiting right now, you’re not doing anything wrong. Release the tension and enjoy the rhythm of the creative process.

Move with your breath

This is tied in with the previous point. Just as martial artist may choose to move on an exhale in order to achieve greater power, our work as writers becomes especially effective when it flows out of who we are. In a world that is overwhelmed by content—much of it cheap, toxic, and misleading—the best gift you can offer others is your sincerity. Write something that matters to you. Write something that comes from your you-ness. Authenticity is a force to be reckoned with.

Practice, practice, practice

I mean, this seems straightforward, but it took having my master tell me explicitly that I needed to practice more before my first belt test for me to realize that I couldn’t just show up to class once and week and expect to become a master. I had to practice consistently on my own. In this way, the basic motions began to sink into my muscle memory and I was able to move onto more advanced patterns of movement.

If you’re serious about the writing thing, I do recommend you write consistently. Now, “consistently” can and should mean different things for different people. Maybe your “consistently” means you write once a week. Maybe it means you write every morning before heading off to your day job. Maybe it means you write for ten minutes every day in that window of grace after your spouse calls you for supper (I once heard of a woman who wrote an entire book this way). Whatever “consistently” means for you, just make sure that you are writing sometime—even when you’re nervous or intimidated by whatever it is you are setting out to write. In my experience, sitting down to get started is often the hardest part. Push past the discomfort and just do it.

Find your balance

I think if I had to pick one thing that I struggle with the most in Taekwondo, it’s probably keeping my balance. I tend to wobble when landing a lunge, kick, or pivot because my weight isn’t in the right place. Likewise, I “wobble” a lot in life when I’m not putting my energy and attention on the right things. As writers, we should consider whether we are investing in areas of life that fuel our creativity and help us to grow as quality human beings or whether we are allowing harmful/distracting influences to tip us off-balance—mentally, emotionally, or otherwise.

If you are feeling “wobbly” in some way, it may be time to slow down and focus on your form. Ask yourself if you need to shift your attention. In martial arts, your own momentum can be the thing to throw you off-balance. It can be very helpful to slow down in order to mindfully adjust your stance and technique—not just in Taekwondo, but in life in general. Healthy habits should become muscle memory. Once they do, it will be easier to stand your ground when it comes time to fight.

Look where you want to go

I find the backwards kicks to be especially tricky. In order to successfully hit a target behind you, you first need to look over your shoulder and get it in your line of sight. In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to skip checking for the target and simply kick out blindly, hoping for the best.

There is a similar temptation when it comes to writing. Usually, it’s important to have a target in your line of sight. The target could be a certain theme that you are trying to communicate, a certain climax that you are working towards, or a whole outline of major plot points that you want to hit. Regardless of you choose for your specific target, having a direction to aim in will allow you to “kick” with confidence as you put your words on the page.

Learn from the masters

A big part of learning proper technique in Taekwondo is watching the masters demonstrate how to complete the different patterns and forms. You pay attention to the placement of their feet, the direction of their hands, and the speed and strength of their steps. You mimic them slowly, until the technique begins to sink into your muscles.

You can probably tell where I’m going with this. It’s the age-old advice: If you want to write good books, then make sure you are reading good books. Learn from the masters who have gone before you. Don’t just read for the sake of enjoyment; read to discern the techniques that brought your favourite authors out on top. How do they reveal setting and character? What makes their dialogue believable? What makes anything believable about their work? How did they connect with you emotionally and intellectually as a reader? What is their word choice and sentence structure like? How did they keep you hooked until the final page?

Take the techniques you learn and apply them to your own writing. This isn’t cheating—it is a key step in your journey to becoming a master yourself. Then, as you practice the techniques of the masters, you can explore your own unique voice within them. Stay humble and don’t expect to get it right the first time. Just as movements are refined by repeating them over and over in martial arts, so we must practice our writing with diligence before our techniques becomes consistently effective.

Be patient. Work hard. And enjoy the rhythm of the art—the calm inhale as you prepare and the powerful exhale as you strike. With proper training, the power of your words will floor your readers in the best of ways.