How do I know if I'm observing enough detail for my writing practice?

This question itself is the answer—the fact that you're asking means you're already attuned to what matters. Murasaki Shikibu didn't describe the Heian court because she was trying to hit a quota of details. She noticed what moved her: the particular way light fell on silk, the hesitation in someone's voice, the gap between what people said and felt. Observation isn't about capturing everything. It's about noticing *what arrests you*. Start there. When you're reading or living, pay attention to what makes you slow down. A conversation that unsettles you. A moment of light. The specific texture of someone's loneliness. Keep a small notebook—not for completing observations, but for catching them before they dissolve. The practice isn't about quantity. It's about training yourself to notice that you're noticing. That's when your interior life starts finding its way onto the page. The real measure isn't how much you observe. It's whether what you've observed changed how you see.