/lit/ - Literature

>>16565701
How do you stop writing in general?

>>16565701
Write 500-1000 words a day short story and write under it what you want to fix. Write firstly what style you want and under the analysis write what you want to change to make it towards that.
Don't try to deny a style as a means to find a style

>>16565701
Practice conveying mood and intention in the most simple words possible.

Edit lots. My shit is usually really purple because I read a lot of McCarthy, but I edit much more than I draft and it clears it up mostly.

>noooo prose needs to be white

>>16565701
>and an ESL
>/lit/ - ESL's advising other ESL's on English

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG, OR INCORRECT, WITH PURPLE PROSE IN ITSELF; ITS RUDDY HUE IS GOOD; ITS BLUISH HUE IS BAD.

>>16566769
Okay but in english?

>>16566778


YES.

>>16566769
Purple prose is good, but ONLY if used sparingly and with intelligence.

>>16566793
One either consumes without restraint the purplepill or skips around it with gracile movements like a deer meandering across a field of flowers from the frothing mouth of a ravenous wolf.

What if its this bad

The desires of men changes, the desire of evils stay, but I digress, for I have desired unto coming to work today.
Another empty ink bottle sits in between two of my left hand fingers. I have run out of inks for the third time this morning, one borrowed, another fell. A blank paper lay motionless beside a filled one. Two others have been crumpled and thrown down. With the shabby quill I rest on top of this desk, I grab hold the left of my chair and gestured an open palm to excuse myself as I stand up. The drawer has a small bottle of ink neatly tucked at the back, beside blank papers and a pair of quills. I straighten my robe to allow myself to sit without rumpling the weaves, today taken out and worn. I sit posing straight, I raise my right hand slightly as I unbutton and roll my shirt to a quarter of my arm. I dirty the tip of my quill, raising it until its last drip drops. I sealed the bottle quickly before air can pervades. Putting the ornamented weight on the motionless sheet, I prepare to write again. I bend slightly the sealed paper that was rested to my left. The document pertains to an appeal for a conduct of trades; brocade, silk, velvet - fabrics, the choices of upper class society.

The garments a person donned have been measures to their identity. Colours, materials, shapes, even the smells, allow a blind man and he could make out the garments concealing the body of a harlot or a nun. The touch is a greater sense, lose your arms and the other body is able to support, ones greatest temple. Nevertheless, a blind man too must acknowledge for what is under the surface of his other sex, wouldn’t he? I have never been one, albeit the latter. It has been the fourth times over for I mind the clarity of these writings, brocade, silk, velvet, again, the quill scratches the colour black, forming those three words that I have sung on repeat internally. On my carelessness, on ‘velvet’, the writing falls disarray, the fifth time comes for I have miscarried my duty. Twenty seven minutes have passed, the chair shrilling sound hits against the wood of the floors as I get up. I address my apology to the lady who remained. Her dress is hoisted fairly, her stripped legs crosses, shaven clean, white like a wedding dress, has she been wed? One spouse must not have leaf through the literary she has been busying herself with. Her book is certainly distinguishable, ‘The Devotees of Women’, the penmanship of van Vrijheid. The churches whose in favour of persecuting the author. I am not adequate of their decision. I have only seen it once before idly edging on a nightstand, under the ceiling of a chamber I frequent.

“Will it be taking any longer, sir?” she asks, in a singsong yet delicate voice. Her gaze firms on the book. Bare hand, devoid of ring, turning pages prudently.

“Reassure yourself, miss.” I answer short. She remained in her blasé reading. She is not put off yet by my work ethics.

Read authors who use a simple prose style. Maugham is a good example

>>16567446
Will keep in mind, I don't read at all until recently.

People here don't even know what purple prose means.

>>16567441
>i digress
dropped

>>16567441
>I digress, for I have desired unto coming to work today

>>16568746
when you write with a purple gel pen

>>16565701
>How do you stop writing purple prose?
Prolix & priggish -- is this how you want to sound or be heard by? Acceptable purple renders the image at a higher resolution while following its contours:

>>16567441
>The desires of men changes, the desire of evils stay, but I digress, for I have desired unto coming to work today.
It is entirely possible that this is more efficient and sounds better in your home tongue; yeet that here in Angle territory:

>I digress-- man's desires change with his sins, and our venal trespass of the day was the desire to go in to work.
Consonance of "desire" three times in a line evokes Oedipal eye gouging imagery, it's an abomination.

purple or sparse matters less than what you do with it. if you have a specific reason for writing a certain way and can pull it off, it will be good no matter what.

>>16567441
>The desires of men changes, the desire of evils stay, but I digress, for I have desired unto coming to work today.
Anon, why are you purpling your prose if your grasp of the English language is shaky? Start simpler, or better yet read more books in English.

Read Beckett and try to copy his terseness

Midwits rebelling against "purple prose" is why contemporary literature is nothing but Hemingway wannabes fidgeting over their keyboards and grunting like apes.