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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Agatha Christie
Improve your writing style by practicing using this free tool
Practice makes perfect, sure, we all know that. But practice what?
If you do not have a good writing style, and you keep writing in that same style, then, it does not matter how much you write. At the end, you will still have that not so good writing style.
Here's how you improve
You practice writing in the style of popular authors. Slowly, but surely, your brain will start picking up that same wonderful writing style which readers are loving so much, and your own writing style will improve. Makes sense?
Its all about training your brain to form sentences in a different way than what you are normally used to.
The difference is the same as a trained boxer, verses a regular guy. Who do you think will win a fight if the two go at it?
Practice writing like professionals!
Practice writing what is already there in popular books, and soon, you yourself would be writing in a similar style, in a similar flow.
Train your brain to write like professionals!
Spend at least half an hour with this tool, practicing writing like professionals.
Practice and improve your writing style below
Below, I have some random texts from popular authors. All you have to do is, spend some time daily, and type these lines in the box below. And, eventually, your brain picks the writing style, and your own writing style improves!
Practice writing like:
- Abraham Bram Stoker
- Agatha Christie
- Arthur Conan Doyle
- Charles Dickens
- Ernest Hemingway
- Hg Wells
- Jane Austen
- Mark Twain
- Rudyard Kipling
Type these lines in the boxes below to practice and improve your writing style.
“You have no idea as to who the gentleman in question might be?”
“Un moment,” interrupted Poirot. “Who had charge of the jewels? Your daughter, or the maid?”
“It was about the master’s build, sir—but I never thought of it being him. We so seldom saw him. I couldn’t say it wasn’t him!”
“Flossie made a will soon after her marriage, leaving everything to her husband.” He hesitated for a minute, and then went on: “I may as well tell you, Monsieur Poirot, that I regard my son-in-law as an unprincipled scoundrel, and that, by my advice, my daughter was on the eve of freeing herself from him by legal means—no difficult matter. I settled her money upon her in such a way that he could not touch it during her lifetime, but although they have lived entirely apart for some years, she has frequently acceded to his demands for money, rather than face an open scandal. However, I was determined to put an end to this, and at last Flossie agreed, and my lawyers were instructed to take proceedings.”
“A great precaution, but perhaps a day late,” suggested Poirot gently.
Jack Renauld leaned forward. His face, which had flushed during the perusal of the letter, was now deadly white.
“Admirable, M. Giraud?” asked the magistrate, studying him cautiously out of the corner of his eye.
From the quietness with which Poirot received my remark, I could see that the idea had already occurred to him.
“Madame Renauld,” said the magistrate, “had you any idea what it was for which the assassins were searching?”
The old woman shuffled towards the door. On the threshold she looked back.
“If you will excuse me a minute,” I said, struck by a sudden idea.
“Oh, as far as that goes, me, I am very good at cracking the nuts! A veritable squirrel! It is not that which embarrasses me. I know well enough who killed Mr. Harrington Pace.”
“Impossible! The housekeeper was with her when the shot was fired.”
“It must have been just before nine o’clock. We had finished dinner, and were sitting over our coffee and cigarettes.”
Useless to inquire at Agency. They will never have heard of her. Find out what vehicle took her up to Hunter’s Lodge when she first arrived there.