I Write Like . . .

There’s a web site called I Write Like that will analyze your writing, compare it to the styles of famous authors, and kick out the name of the author your sample most closely resembles. I have no idea if there is any science behind this analysis. The results should be taken with a grain of salt, but it’s fun to have the site suggest who you write like.

As an experiment, I entered the first few paragraphs of every story in A Smile Through a Tear into the analyzer. Then I entered the last few paragraphs. Here is a table of my results:

Story # Style of the first paragraphs Style of the last paragraphs
1 Cory Doctorow Stephen King
2 Lewis Carroll Cory Doctorow
3 H.P. Lovecraft Chuck Palahniuk
4 Stephen King Dan Brown
5 Margaret Mitchell Chuck Palahniuk
6 Stephen King Chuck Palahniuk
7 Margaret Atwood Dan Brown
8 Dan Brown Cory Doctorow
9 William Gibson David Foster Wallace
10 David Foster Wallace Dan Brown
11 Kurt Vonnegut Cory Doctorow
12 James Joyce Stephen King
13 Jack London Arthur C. Clarke
14 David Foster Wallace H.P. Lovecraft
15 H.G. Wells Jack London
16 Ian Fleming Stephen King
17 James Joyce Bram Stoker

 

According to the analyzer, I didn’t finish a single story in the style I began it. In some cases, this is not surprising. H.G. Wells’ style might not be all that different from Jack London’s. I can imagine some others on the list having similar styles.

But what’s with this Margaret Mitchell to Chuck Palahniuk transition? According to the analyzer, I’m going from Gone With the Wind to Fight Club in the space of about 6,000 words. I don’t remember writing any scenes where the dashing rake tells the heroine he doesn’t give a damn, and then they start pounding the hell out each other because it feels so good.

It's an honor, and also a stretch, for me to be compared to Margaret Mitchell.

It’s an honor, and also a stretch, for me to be compared to Margaret Mitchell.

Then I have an H.P. Lovecraft that turns into a Chuck Palahniuk. This must be the one where the protagonist examines the grotto underneath his family mansion because of all the rat noises, only to find a barroom basement where a bunch of guys are pounding the hell out each other because it feels so good. (I’m basing these Fight Club references on the movie, since I haven’t read the book.)

There’s another curious story that begins like Jack London and ends like Arthur C. Clarke. That’s the one where a sled dog befriends a self-aware robot during the Alaska Gold Rush. It’s a touching story until they have to build a fire to stay alive, only to discover that neither has any matches. (Dogs don’t have pockets and robots don’t smoke.)

Another interesting thing about this little exercise: none of my literary idols appears on the list. No one who should have molded the way I write is there. I have not read a word of some of the writers on the list. The one I’ve read most would probably be Stephen King, and I haven’t read more than three of his books.

I’m happy with the list. There are some well-respected authors on it. Besides that, I always intended A Smile Through a Tear as a collection of stories of great variety. I would say there’s some variety in the gulf between James Joyce and Dan Brown. So maybe I accomplished that mission.

Go ahead, give the analyzer a try. If you get any interesting results, feel free to tell us about them in the comments.

Love Triangle – Flash fiction

love-triangle

(Image Credit: Russell Lee)

He sipped her coffee to make sure it wasn’t too hot before setting it next to the toast he’d quartered for her.

She smiled love at him through hazy eyes as he sat beside her.

He helped her hold the cup steady while she raised it to her lips.

“Oh Dean, no one could love me like you do,” she told him in her scratchy voice.

He nodded a little and helped her set the cup down.

She batted her eyes. “And no one could love you like I do. Wanna know a secret? If something ever happened to you, I would never love again.”

He pursed his lips.

“No one could ever fill your shoes, my darling Dean! You’re the only one for me. Ever.”

He acknowledged her sweet smile for a second before helping her hand holding the toast find her mouth. He had his own aches and pains, but seeing her like this hurt more than all of them.

“So don’t you ever leave me. If you ever did, I’d be alone forever.”

“There’d always be people who care for you,” he reassured her, “people who love you dearly.”

“Maybe. But in here,” she tapped her chest with a fragile finger, “I’d be alone. I’d always be alone without my Dean.”

He didn’t bother to remind her anymore. It was no use. He let her failing mind live in its ancient paradise with its long-lost first love.

Their confusing wedding photos were locked away. Pictures of their children were images of Dean’s children to her, but at least they were still her children, when she recognized them.

After 42 years, Brian let himself be memories of Dean, lifting the loneliness from her heart and holding it in his own.

Together they raised the cup to her lips.

Heart of the Family – Flash fiction

broken-heart

Jesse brought a little picture of himself, in case looking at him would somehow make them feel closer to their own son.

They were a typical middle-aged couple. Ann, the mother gave Jesse a hug. The father, Rob, shook his hand.  After the handshake lunch turned awkward.

He’d practiced how he would express himself, but in person it was all different. How do you say this kind of thank you? What’s the right mixture of your renewal with their loss?

Jesse forced out an unbalanced thank you. They nodded their acceptance. The conversation was choppy, never allowed to go too deep.

Rob wouldn’t look him in the eye. When Rob went to the men’s room for the second time, Jesse frowned.

“It’s been hard on him,” Ann explained.

Jesse nodded. “I can only imagine.”

“On both of us. Robby was our only child.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Rob and Robby were two peas in a pod. He lived through that boy. Since the accident, well, there’s a big hole in him.”

“I wish he’d let me tell him how sorry I am,” Jesse replied, “how grateful . . .”

“But he won’t look at you,” Ann interrupted. “It’s not because he resents you. He’s afraid.”

“Of my face?”

“Your face terrifies him. Part of him is afraid he’ll see Robby in your eyes. The rest of him is afraid he won’t.”

Jesse called the waiter and gave him cash to cover the bill. He stood, taking Ann’s hand. “Will you tell Rob I had to go? Tell him I’ll always do my best to honor Robby’s memory.”

He let go her hand and turned away, leaving his haunting self-portrait in his wallet and taking the heart of their family away, beneath the vertical scar in his chest.

***

To read more of my flash fiction, click the “flash fiction” link under “Categories” in the right-hand sidebar.

 

Of writers, self-promotion, and Christmas

I’ve always been wary of self-promotion. As a self-published fiction writer, this leaves me in an awkward position.  Self-published and Self-promotion are twins, and though they may not be identical, when Self-promotion stumbles, Self-published falls. They’re close like that.

I have been letting Self-promotion stumble, with the anticipated result to Self-published. But if there’s one time to give Self-promotion a hand, it’s Christmas. At this most Holy and Commercial time of year it only seems appropriate to give alms to Self-promotion.  I won’t go so far as to suggest the Baby Jesus would endorse it, but I think the Three Wise Men would. After all, how could they afford gold, frankincense, and myrrh? They were wise men who built their brands through self-promotion.

I am now going to attempt to be a wise man, though I still probably won’t be able to afford any frankincense or myrrh by the end of the day. Following is an introduction to my books, which just might make decent Christmas gifts for the readers on your list (hint, hint).

Temp

Temp coverTemp is a great book for past or present temporary and low-level employees, and the people who love them. It’s also for people who like a good laugh in general. If you started out at the top of your field, love no one, and hate laughing, it might not be for you. Otherwise, you’re the bullseye of the target demographic.

(Book description/How to buy)

A Smile Through a Tear

BookCover9AA Smile Through a Tear is a collection of short stories, some funny, some serious, covering several different genres of fiction. If variety is the spice of life, this collection is a literary bottle of tabasco. If these stories get into your eyes, tears may result. Remain calm. It will be from your emotions, not physical damage; the hot spice thing was just a metaphor.

(Book description/How to buy)

A Housefly in Autumn

A Housefly in AutumnA Housefly in Autumn fits all sizes from young adult to old adult. If you’ve ever wondered what YA fiction would look like without vampires, post-apocalyptic survival tips, little people with pointy ears, or the ubiquitous love triangle, this is the book for you. Although I can’t promise there’s not just a hint of love triangle, but it’s certainly not beaten like a dead horse. SPOILER: There’s an actual dead horse for that.*

(Book description/How to Buy)

*Just kidding. Nobody beats the dead horse. It’s all very tasteful.

Well, that’s my self-promotion for this year. I hope I helped you get your Christmas shopping done.