bramble rose. ok so here’s some piece of advice to all the people out there who hate purple prose… DONT READ IT, save yourself a headache and hate from your heart by not following users who write it. stop spreading hate and stop bashing / making fun of people for their writing style. grow up and just do your thing !! i write what i want with whoever i want. – – i’m not gonna change the way i write just to please you or to be accepted in the community. : )
( space daddy shiro for all your ooc icon needs ).
this shouldn’t be an unpopular opinion but yolo gonna talk about this anyways.
so yesterday there was some heated discourse about formatting & purple prose ??? i believe ? idk i just came on the dash & saw some sprinkling of salt and my tongue went sLURP.
throw all the motherfucking // & ; & ( ) you want. that shit is spicy. that shit is a NICE SPICY. now you know me, i’m not a fan of purple prose. but formatting =/= purple prose. formatting is that nice diamond bracelet you slap on your damn wrist after you put on your little black dress ready to SLAY. it’s nice. it’s aesthetically pleasing. it’s chill. it’s not like you’re replace the word eyes with OPTICULAR RETINAS DYED IN GOLDEN HUES when you could just say golden eyes. ( but like once again write the way you wanna write i’m just being EXTRA ).
in conclusion formatting is cool. it’s lit. your WRITING and it’s MERITS should not be measured by how aesthetically pleasing it is. good writing, to me, is the ability to convey your thoughts & feelings to people. so that they understand what you’re trying to say. if you wanna throw in some //*&#!# then that’s cool. as long as it doesn’t distract from the overall message of your writing.
essays are tangents and rabbit holes and diversions, woven together with lots of unnecessary descriptive words to demonstrate a proficient understanding of a subject you were meant to research in more depth but did not, in place of other pursuits, or could not, because you chose your subject poorly, and so now you must flesh out an arduous ten-page research paper and convince your scrutinizing instructor that you are well-versed in the topic at hand.
emails are blunt. say what you mean. be specific. end it quickly.
Stand aside, incredibly attractive random citizen who I am not so secretly in love with! This man is an akuma!
I love you too, Ladybug, but he REALLY ISN'T.
*puts a finger over his lips* Hush, my delicate hummingbird. You've had a difficult evening. But fear not, I know exactly what I'm doing. You wait here while I avenge you. *chases Santa* GET REKT OLD MAN
*lovesick sigh* She called me a hummingbird... I mean, wait, I should stop her.
door slams behind her, loud in the empty apartment, and he can hear the lock
clicking shut then her fingers curl around his throat and he forgets everything
else. Her hand is warm, almost burning hot through his suit and he likes it, he
leans into her touch and feels his breath shorten as he waits for her to do
something. He doesn’t know what it is about this girl that makes him feel like
this, what it is about her that he’s obsessed with.
smell? He can smell musk and arousal, he can almost taste it leaking into her
panties, staining the underwear and he wants to bury his face there. He wants
to nuzzle her crotch and lap at her dick and have her cum all over his face so
he’s covered in her scent. He would be good for her, do everything she asked,
pull out every trick he knew and use just as much teeth as she wanted so long
as she let him suck her cock.
Be strong with your descriptions. The strongest metaphors are usually done with the right verbs and concrete nouns, whilst adverbs and adjectives are, say, seasonings for your prose. Use as many as you need or like, however, because sometimes they are necessary.
Be specific, too. Use the vocabulary as a tool to make the story come to life in front of the reader’s eyes.
Remember: we humans don’t notice everything that is going on; we usually notice that which is relevant to us, and we tend to notice it like we want it to. Our perspective isn’t the same as everyone else’s.
Use detail to set the mood, rather than just having it there for no reason. To quote the marvelous Hardyest (italization by me):
While describing every emotion your character is feeling through that particular moment in time, do note that does get a bit…tedious and repetitive. There are, as it stands, only so many ways you can relate to the reader an intense feeling of sadness or of anger. Therefore, my best advice to any writer is before you go describing the emotion of the character in question, first describe the surroundings. Don’t simply describe surroundings in a mundane way, either.
Let’s take for example: a roleplayer wishes to construct a self-para around the basis of her ex-boyfriend. Let’s also say, for example’s sake, that the break-up as it is playing in her mind’s eye is happening in his very car. A mundane scene, no? But describing things such as the trash lying about her feet [even perhaps using a metaphor of trash pertinent to the one she’s dating], describing the minute details about how that air freshner hanging from the car’s rearview mirror always reminded her of him. Take time to say, talk about how the car’s fabric was leather, and when he came to pick her up in those hot Summer months, she’d get rather irritated at the heat emanating from it. It’s descriptions such as that build the suspense, and build the interest of the reader. It also correctly portrays the emotion the character is about to indulge in, based on subtle hints here and there of a love/hate relationship occurring in the memories of him. X
This is an effective example of how to make any scene vivid; before writing, ask yourself the mood of the piece, and write accordingly to that mood. It’s subtle, and you’re showing, not telling. I also recommend that you read the whole post. Because yes.
What Hardy calls an intense scene can apply to any scene that requires to induce in the reader a certain kind of emotion. Fear, sadness, anger, happiness, anything. If you want to drop details in the story, make them useful for the reader to connect to it.
Purple prose isn’t completely bad. You can use them while you’re free-writing, or to exercise your vocabulary. Or just write however you want, at first, then chop, chop, chop.
Remember, though, you’re impressing no one when you color your writing with purple. Specially when they’re not really your words (but ones you’ve gotten off a thesaurus to make it look fancier), it’s not you. Write like yourself.
Read your work aloud. Yes, do it. I often find that my writing or other’s writing is a bit, well, off. And when that happens, my eyes tend to avoid the sentences. It happens a lot when I read works filled with nominalizations.
In the end, writers and writing come with all styles, shapes, and sizes. This post is for those who believe their use of description is not as effective as they think it should be.
The wolf with the cosmos running through his mane, says this. His eyes, as if they hold all the high heavens and all the known secrets, gleam at the young boy with the thoughtful face. He is unreadable, the wolf, with the way he sits and gazes upon the boy, startled wonder and yet a firm calmness engraved in his features.
He was the runner of the skies, the changer of dreams and urging force behind the sun. He brought galaxies to their knees, reshaped the very star-paths that all people walked. To control the stars was to control the world and wolf with the planets aligned on his spine knew this fact very well. He was the brilliance of the world, he was the power and the light and all the time that was given to each individual person on a planet. He knew all, saw all, changed all.
And yet the boy with the wondrous eyes so bleak and blue that they saw right through the patched fur of starlight and dust, and between the wolf’s ribs. To the heart that was speckled with ash and soot and long years gone by in nothing but aching loneliness, and saw the hope that the creature hid there.
'You have stars in your palms.’
The wolf was wise in his years, in his very existence and up until now the boy had no idea that he had existed. There had been tales and wives-talk about how there was a celestial animal that walked the grounds of the earth. That the paws made no trace in the dirt and the grass did not bend under the weight of the animal.
So the boy with the hair made of ink and the brains made of awe-struck dreams held in by sheer force, felt himself lean forward and drape his hand on the wolf’s head and felt the tingling of things shifting beneath his skin. It was as if something had come alive, as if the fur was arising with some sort of renewed power and it was. For when the boy withdrew his hand and looked at the wolf, meeting his blank, white eyes he saw unexplained phenomena’s drift in and out. In pupil-less irises there was so much feeling and intense disbelief that the boy was caught off guard.
He glanced down at where his palm had made contact with the beast and saw that his skin had truly shifted. It moved and writhed with tiny silver and white dots, and when he peered close he saw that they were stars. The skin grew darker, blackened like the intruding night sky and the flecked stars shone even brighter. He had a sunset, a midnight sky, a misty morning on his hands and he looked at the wolf in curiosity and fear. To hold such power, to hold such feeling in himself was incredible and felt his being come alive with sudden vibrancy for life.
And the wolf merrily gazed at him with those blank eyes and he could hear the husked voice in his mind.
'You have stars in your palms. You hold the universe at your fingertips, do you not know what power is?
We are what we love to read, and when we admit to loving a book, we admit that the book represents some aspect of ourselves truly, whether it is that we are suckers for romance or pining for adventure or secretly fascinated by crime.
Nina Sankovitch, Tolstoy and the Purple Chair: My Year of Magical Reading
Last time I checked Mills and Boon novels were not written by teenage girls.
Oh, and I forgot another one. Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey. Both guilty of Purple Prose shit, both guilty of sexism and racism, both written by grown up women. And one of them was targeted at middle aged women.
I love everything purple like wine-stained lips and hickeys and the marks under your tired eyes and the sky at dawn and sunsets and cold hands and Christmas lights and lilac and the inside of your guitar case and blueberry muffins and passion fruits and drunk, hazy nights and the bruises on my heart and the very first color of the spectrum where it all begins.
Se tem uma coisa que me irrita muito em alguns livros/histórias que encontro por aí, é a purple prose. Ela é tão chata que, mesmo odiando-a completamente, de vez em quando me pego colocando-a no meio da minha história e aí tenho que excluir um longo trecho por pura falta de atenção.