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Why is it that I seem to fear the beautiful when I write? Why is it that when I come up with words that shine my first reaction is ask myself where I'd read them before? My second reaction is to hide them under the absurd or mix them in amid the mundane. Sure, those methods can make a pretty speach more effulgent. [ I had to use the word.] but that's not my reasoning. It'sa knee-jerk reaction to avoid the poetic like a red-head avoids pink.
As a writer I seem to feel evocotive and poetic are synonyms for purple prose. As a reader I think of purple prose as stories that use phrases so over used they've completely exhausted all meaning. If I skim over a wordy description and barely form picture in my head that's bad. But is it really impossible to write a story that's both good and also as flowery as a Laura Ashley bedroom? Can one mix stripes, plaids, and metaphorical prints?
The more I get this out the more I think this is because of a cultural idea that masculine equals smart and feminine and frilly is less so.
As a writer I seem to feel evocotive and poetic are synonyms for purple prose. As a reader I think of purple prose as stories that use phrases so over used they've completely exhausted all meaning. If I skim over a wordy description and barely form picture in my head that's bad. But is it really impossible to write a story that's both good and also as flowery as a Laura Ashley bedroom? Can one mix stripes, plaids, and metaphorical prints?
The more I get this out the more I think this is because of a cultural idea that masculine equals smart and feminine and frilly is less so.
