If you think my comment is all about computer action,it’s not because in the next sentence I will show you how to do superhero action.Here are the things to try and not do.
1.make the fight all about weapons or the hero as it will get boring and some people may not like weapons.I suggest doing a bit of both to fit almost all readers.
2. start off sentences using the same starting as it will sound like a shopping list like the one below
Buy bannanas
Buy milk
Buy apples
Buy pineapples
If you see how boring that is you will also know the effect of doing it to your story.

Have you ever tried to write a book to please everyone in the human race and failed?
Everybody will fail at this task because everybody has different likes and dislikes and some people don’t like books at all so there is no chance that they will like your story unless it is very persuasive.
Also try and make a solid “framework” for your story because if you don’t, there is a better chance of switching ideas instead of sticking to the original.If you really like your new idea and also like the old one I suggest putting the other idea in a different book or paragraph as switching the the idea without putting it in a new paragraph or book will confuse the reader as to what you are talking about.

I hope you liked my comment as much as I had fun making it.

Gone is an interesting novel. It’s a YA novel where everyone over the age of 15 disappears and the kids are trapped inside of a dome that circles their town. Some of them begin to manifest powers. The scope covers a panorama of characters and the big fight scenes are built up to. Today’s action movies are just back to back action sequences with little to no story and I find them boring.

And ultimately, the thing that separates the greats and mediocre in fiction is motivation. It’s probably the most lacking element in novice fiction, and the most complex element in great fiction, when the the writer can use the text for conscious motivation and create subtext for unconscious motivation. A pool of possible reasons determined by contextualization.

* * *

The taste of blood has always intrigued me. Sort of a zingy copper, with just enough sweetness to make it delicious, which in itself makes it repugnant. I’ve tasted more blood than I’d care to tell my parents, but I’ve come to enjoy it in the moment, the rush of adrenaline that comes with being punched in the mouth, your teeth breaking through your lip and the plasma spilling onto your tongue. I can accept that, but it’s also given me a gentle craving occasionally, both enthusing and terrifying, like waking up to get a midnight snack but knowing that if you walk into the dark kitchen you can never come back to the safety of your bedroom again, so you pull the covers back up and let the monsters sleep.

That said, the blood on my lips now seemed different, and scary. The scent was like electrified steel, cooling down, the smoke blurring your vision and making everything seem gray. The open wounds from his fist were convulsing as they crashed against my teeth, as if the flesh was already sowing itself back together. But most unsettlingly, it was cold. Like melted ice dripping into my mouth, forcing me to jolt away onto the ground, terrified. It was as if frosted lightning had shot down my throat, freezing my insides while boiling them at the same time. Horrified, I looked up at my assailant, not into his hollow eyes but into his bleeding smile, the cold blood running through his teeth. He’d let me hit him earlier, let me open him up thinking myself a surgeon, when instead I was the patient on his malefic table. I was the plaything to this visage of inhumanity, a mere rag doll to be tossed around until he tired of me and cast me into the fire with his other broken toys. I was a victim.

But this is ridiculous, I told myself. I’ve tumbled with dozens of strangers in these alleys, and been terrified I’d kill someone or be killed before, this was nothing knew. But I’d always found consolation in the fact that whoever won the fight, we’d both been opened up and showed each other our humanity; whatever differences we had, we still bled. But our blood was warm. And suddenly I could feel my eyes tearing up, and my voice broke as I whimpered, “What are you?”

“You’re about to find out.” His grin was growing, a Cheshire smirk of malice and vivacity, the blood having run down his lips and across his chin. As his melted smile dripped into the street, I closed my eyes and pulled the sheets back over my head, warm in my bed and safe from all the monsters and the other shadows on the way to the fridge. But this was no dream, and there was nothing covering me but the chilly mist in the air and his inhuman blood. This was no dream. This was a nightmare.

* * *

As I’m sure you notice, there’s not a lot of action. There’s one punch and falling on the ground. My problem is, I find it very hard to write about punches and kicks without getting redundant fast, and as such tend to end my actions scenes with far too much brevity. What would you suggest to help make my actions scenes into, well, action scenes?

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That thing, that’s kinda like a mini-chapter break. It’s like a semi-colon. It’s not as strong as a fullstop but it does the same job. Same here, it’s not as strong as a chapter break but it does the same job.

Although really if you’re going to use that you might aswell use a chapter break.

Maybe one day I’ll fly to Brasil and learn capoeira. As for now I just study forms and whatnot.

Well It depends on how long they use the fancy moves and each character has a different way they fight. I’ve studied many forms of combat and I want the reader to be able to tell the differences between a spin kick and a plain old kick.