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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.
“Send this in and my uncle will see you at once.”
I did so. While we were waiting for it to be answered, Poirot walked up and down, looking about him approvingly.
The doctor stared at him incredulously; then, repeating Dr. Tosswill’s words, he cried:
“Yes. To work with method, one must begin from the beginning. And the beginning of this affair was in England. Therefore, we return to England.”
“Oh, he’s quite a nice fellow—nothing startling.”
“A great precaution, but perhaps a day late,” suggested Poirot gently.
“No, it was half a crown!” Japp recovered his temper and grinned. “Pretty extravagant, these rich Americans!”
Japp’s jaw fell. “How on earth did you know? Don’t tell me it was those almighty ‘little gray cells’ of yours!”
“One hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry is a very good motive for anyone. No, the question to my mind is: why kill her? Why not simply steal the jewels? She would not prosecute.”
“On the platform side. My daughter was standing in the corridor as she talked to Mason.”
This was naturally gratifying, but Poirot’s next words were not so welcome.
“Yes, my friend,” said Poirot unexpectedly, “we can. One of my first actions was to ring up the hospital where she was working.”
He passed on to the debris on the floor, where the table by the bed had been overturned. A reading-lamp, some books, matches, a bunch of keys, and the crushed fragments of a coffee-cup lay scattered about.
A strangled cry from the bed startled me. A fresh access of pain seized the unfortunate old lady. The convulsions were of a violence terrible to behold. Everything was confusion. We thronged round her, powerless to help or alleviate. A final convulsion lifted her from the bed, until she appeared to rest upon her head and her heels, with her body arched in an extraordinary manner. In vain Mary and John tried to administer more brandy. The moments flew. Again the body arched itself in that peculiar fashion.
“Because it is true. I am charming to my friends one day, and forget all about them the next.”