What are the limits to description in story writing? How do I know if I have crossed them?

What needs to be kept in mind is that writing isn't for you, it's for the reader. As a writer, we imagine the story in our heads, we see it vividly, and then we write. But that in itself doesn't guarantee what we see and feel is transferred to the reader's head. The problem with purple prose is that the writer is charmed by a visual idea, and writes down a bunch of words around that experience, yet utterly fails to convey its charm to the reader.

This is something I struggle with myself constantly. I think the problem in the writing sample you provided is less that the descriptions are purple than that they are incoherent and contradictory. You describe the hair as "long lustrous locks", "watery waves" and "silky", but also as "unimpressive plain, crow-black hair" and "slick, stick-straight hair." Not only are stick-straight and watery-waves physically contradictory, the descriptions are also emotionally contradictory. Does the protagonist love her hair or hate it? Does she experience it as "silky" (positive) or "slick" (negative)? What you end up with is a word salad that doesn't give the reader any consistent physical OR emotional impression. That, in turn, makes the verbiage seem self-indulgent and unnecessary.

I think you could easily go on about the hair at equal, or even greater length, without testing the patience of your readers, if you just made it more worth their while. Don't just spew words, use them to help your reader understand your character, her place in the world, her point of view, her emotional state, and so forth. "Long lustrous ebony locks, hanging straight down like a curtain of water --that's what the men who admired her saw. But to Jane herself, it was just plain, stick-straight, crow-black hair --one more thing to try to keep under control."

All writing is description. It's just a matter of what you're describing. So it's impossible to describe things too much, or to be writing descriptive prose when you should be writing some other kind of prose. With "purple prose", the issue as I see it is either describing the wrong thing, or describing badly.

When you look at any object, or live through any kind of experience, there is a general impression of what that experience is like created in your brain. That general impression is much more than just the retinal data received from looking at the object. Your job as a describer - in fact, what the verb "to describe" means - is to reproduce that general impression inside the head of your reader. It is not to exhaustively list all of the sensory details of an experience, and then describe each one with as much intensity as possible.

For example, if I'm writing an intense action scene, I'm describing the experience of the action. If you were to live through that action scene in real life, there would be some kind of general impression of what it feels like to be there in that moment. If you stop to describe the stitching on the characters' jeans, you are failing to reproduce that general impression. If the object you wanted to describe was the jeans, then you would have succeeded. But that wasn't the object you wanted to describe. The object you wanted to describe was the action. This is like looking at a painting through a microscope, one square inch at a time, and then expecting to know anything about what the painting looks like.

Thus, figure out what it is you're trying to describe, or to put it more pithily, describe the scene, not (necessarily) the things in it. This is a case of describing the wrong thing.

Another problem with "excessive" description has to do with describing the right thing badly: not everything needs to be described with intensity, because not everything is intense.

For example, did a surge of irritation really ripple within her? Are you sure she didn't just feel a bit annoyed? The rage you feel when you find out your own brother has betrayed you and stolen your kingdom might ripple within you, I'm not so sure that irritation at the wind messing up your hair really does. Are you quite sure that it really took all of what she had to restrain from even so much as stealing a quick glance? It's not just that she felt a bit self conscious, that she fidgeted nervously, or that she kept glancing at herself with mild dismay? Is her hair really crow black, or just black?

How you describe something and how intensely you describe something are not independent variables. It is impossible to change the intensity or the level of detail of a description without also changing the color of that description, because the more words you pile on something, the more important and dramatic you make it seem to the reader.

First, let me start by saying...wow! Your command of the English language is impressive.

Some people think purple prose can be boring and unnecessary, but when done well, I think it can really make plain words come alive. Considering we're always told that good writing requires you to cut out the excess fat however, that usually means doing away with all that purple.

I think it's important to first define and what purple prose is. Because of its poetic roots, it's not always easy to find a straightforward answer, but Wikipedia describes it simply as:

Purple prose is characterized by the excessive use of adjectives, adverbs, and metaphors.

But I prefer this definition:

Superfluous, extravagant, showy, elaborate, and flowery language.

You certainly have that going for yourself.

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The thing is, I've read a fair amount of books in my lifetime, and I have to say, not everyone can purple prose like a pro. In fact, too much of the purple stuff can immediately stamp your work as amateur by the second time you've described what her hair is doing.

I always say, if you want to know how to do something right, learn from those who've already done it and do it well.

Author Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash starts off with nothing but purple goodness, and none of it makes us cringe. Check out the first paragraph of his book:

The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed sub-category. He's got esprit up to here. Right now he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachno-fiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books...

So let's break down what he did right.

 

1. HE KEEPS IT MOVING.

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Every sentence gave us more description without feeling as though he's repeating himself.

When we look at your passage, you first start with mood: A haunted look marred Sabrina’s face perpetually... Then you mention her hair in the second sentence: A blow of cool, spring breeze tickled her ears, and whooshed aside a stray curl covering her left cheek... You then move back to mood: Instead of feeling revitalised, a surge of irritation rippled within her... But then you go back and mention her hair for the next three long sentences.

The TAKEAWAY:

Once you've moved on, you cannot go back. You'll only be beating a dead horse.

Reconstruct your sentences so that even if you're describing the same thing, it feels like the story is moving along. In your case, adding Instead of feeling revitalised, a surge of irritation rippled within her, which manifested itself in her sudden moans of annoyance and shuffling uneasily in the rickshaw seat... broke up your description which felt as though you were done talking about her hair, so we were also ready to move on.

So if you rewrote this, it would read:

A blow of cool, spring breeze tickled Sabrina's ears, and whooshed aside a stray curl covering her left cheek. She had spent the better half of that morning painstakingly ensuring that that curl stayed fastened to its rightful place. Apparently, the clip had slid down her watery waves of decidedly unimpressive plain, crow-black hair. Cursing the silkiness of her slick, stick-straight hair, she moved onto focusing on the wide roads of concrete they whirled past...

Now I'm ready to know what happens down that concrete road.

 

2. SELECTIVE WORD CHOICE

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We've established purple prose is all about excessive use of adjectives, adverbs and metaphors and Stephens first paragraph has it's fair share, BUT every word pulls it's weight and every word feels appropriate for what he's describing. They're used to describe the character's appearance without exaggeration.

His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air...

1. Filtering is a fitting visual description for describing the air's behavior.

2. A bullet will bounce off its arachno-fiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door,

3. ...but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze

When we look at your passage, some of your adjectives and metaphors call attention to themselves because they're either inappropriate for the description or don't add any value.

For example:

A haunted look marred Sabrina’s face perpetually.

Marred seems like an odd choice to describe her haunted face.

It sounds like you're saying the Haunted Look is an actual object that ruined her face forever. Its exaggerated and calls too much attention to itself when I should be focused on Sabrina's mood.

Perpetually also feels out of place and doesn't add any value to the sentence.

Additionally, the entire sentence could use a little more purple. You've told me she looks haunted, but you didn't SHOW me.

For example, what does a "haunted look" look like?

Give me more description here, and maybe not so much in others.

Example:

She looked haunted, her eyes vacant and still as she focused on the wide roads ... It took all of what she had to restrain from even so much as stealing a glance...

Let's look at this sentence as well:

Instead of feeling revitalised, a surge of irritation rippled within her, which manifested itself in her sudden moans of annoyance and shuffling uneasily in the rickshaw seat.

Again, revitalised is too flashy. Tone it down, simplify.

A surge of irritation rippled within her... Over-exaggeration, too much for the mood...

...which manifested itself in her sudden moans of annoyance and shuffling uneasily in the rickshaw seat. All of this is a little too much for misplaced hair wouldn't you say?

Let's try this maybe:

A short burst of the cool (insert season) air breezed passed her hair, whipping out a rogue strand of curls she had painstakingly tamed into submission that morning. She moaned, cursing the silkiness of her bone-straight mane...

You'll notice in the last few examples, I rearranged your sentences and omitted lots of words. This allows for the words that are there like, burst, cool, whipping, rogue, painstakingly, submission, moaned, cursing, silkiness, slick-straight...to stand out. No unnecessary words to distract us from understanding her mood.

TAKEAWAY:

Be super selective with your word choice and show, don't tell.

 

3. MAKE SOMETHING HAPPEN

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In Stephenson's opening paragraph, by the third sentence, you're told something is about to go DOWN!

Right now he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night.

In contrast, we don't see any action until your last sentence, where we realize, she is driving.

In one of the examples above, I moved that action up to read to like this:

Example:

She looked haunted, her eyes vacant and still as she focused on the wide roads of concrete ... It took all of what she had to restrain from even so much as stealing a glance...

Right away, I get a sense of movement which creates the illusion of action.

THE TAKEAWAY:

Action is why people want to keep reading...they want to know what is happening and what is going to happen, so when you feel a purple prose coming on, make sure you paint in some kind of action early on, even something as mundane as driving.

My examples are in no way perfect (they too need work) they're just suggestions. I particularly like it when I can see examples of how it's done so hopefully you found it constructive.

I found this particular article very helpful. It doesn't necessarily tell you how to write, but definitely highlights those things that gives purple prose a bad name. Simply avoiding them could improve your descriptive writing dramatically. https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/purple-prose/

Happy purpling!

There is no clear rule sometimes detailed description does the job at other times you are better off evoking what you want with a few well chosen words.

The first thing to note is that detail also has an effect on pace, more description tends to slow things down.

there is also always a bit of a temptation to see writing as being 'paid by the word' and to use adjective and adverbs as a sort of seasoning at the expense of more sophisticated tools like metaphor and simile.

Lets look at your exaple text and remove all of the adjectives.

It took all of what she had to restrain from stealing a glance at her limbs. A breeze tickled Sabrina's ears, and moved aside a curl covering her cheek. Instead of feeling revitalised, a surge of irritation rippled within her, which manifested itself in her moans of annoyance and shuffling in the rickshaw seat. Sabrina had spent half of that morning ensuring that curl stayed fastened to in place. Apparently, the clip had slid down. Cursing the silkiness of her hair, she focused on the wide roads of concrete they whirled past.

It took all of what she had to restrain from even so much as stealing a quick glance at her flushed, bony limbs. A blow of cool, spring breeze tickled Sabrina's ears, and whooshed aside a stray curl covering her left cheek. Instead of feeling revitalised, a surge of irritation rippled within her, which manifested itself in her sudden moans of annoyance and shuffling uneasily in the rickshaw seat. Sabrina had spent the better half of that morning painstakingly ensuring that that curl stayed fastened to its rightful place. Apparently, the clip had slid down her watery waves of decidedly unimpressive plain, crow-black hair. Cursing the silkiness of her slick, stick-straight hair, she moved onto focusing on the wide roads of concrete they whirled past.

For me all the cut bits add nothing to the scene which isn't already implied. This is what the infamous 'show don't tell' advice really means.

Think about how you would describe this scene in person. As I read it this person is annoyed because she has nice hair which she has spent a lot of time arranging and it has been disturbed by the wind. How would you descipbe the scene to someone you were t alking to face to face ?

Spoken English is by no means identical to English but they do share something of a common rhythm. Often the natural rhythm of a non-native speaker will be a bit different but this is not at all a bad thing and the last thing you want to do is to try to write in a style which is not really your own.

The central issue here is not the extent of description, it is focus. Good prose allows the reader to focus on one thing at a time. When it is time to describe, it describes. When it is time to deal with action, it deals with the action. If a description of the setting is necessary to understand the action, then the setting is described first and the action afterwards.

If you look at the sample you provided, however, the focus is all over the place. It moves rapidly back and forth between description and action, between past and present, between detail and general scene. The reader cannot find a point of focus.

A common reaction to this is to tell the writer to cut out the description and get on with this action, but you should not interpret this as an instruction to provide less description. Rather, you should interpret it as an instruction not to pollute the focus of an action scene with description. Describe when it is time to describe. Show action when it is time to show action. Keep the reader focused on one thing at a time.