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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Mark Twain

Improve your writing style by practicing using this free tool

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!

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Type these lines in the boxes below to practice and improve your writing style.

Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging.

 

“Yes, it’s better in some ways, because it’s close to home and circuses and all that.”

 

“Yes,” with a startled look—“didn’t she stay with you last night?”

 

“I wisht I knowed. It’s awful solemn like, ain’t it?”

 

“It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn’t got drownded.”

 

“Hale him forth!  To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond!  Where be the dogs?  Ho, there, Lion! ho, Fangs!”

 

“A beggar and a thief!  He has got your money and has picked your pocket likewise.  An’ thou would’st do a healing miracle, lay thy staff over his shoulders and trust Providence for the rest.”

 

“An’ it were dark, I should think it was a king that spoke; there’s no denying it, when the humour’s upon on him he doth thunder and lighten like your true King; now where got he that trick?  See him scribble and scratch away contentedly at his meaningless pot-hooks, fancying them to be Latin and Greek—and except my wit shall serve me with a lucky device for diverting him from his purpose, I shall be forced to pretend to post away to-morrow on this wild errand he hath invented for me.”

 

“Then where is thy blame?  What riddle is this?  Am I in truth gone mad, or is it thou?  Explain—speak out.”

 

Meantime the sumptuous robe of state had been removed from Tom’s shoulders to the King’s, whose rags were effectually hidden from sight under it.  Then the coronation ceremonies were resumed; the true King was anointed and the crown set upon his head, whilst cannon thundered the news to the city, and all London seemed to rock with applause.

 

“Pap’ll be mighty much obleeged to you, I can tell you. Everybody goes away when I want them to help me tow the raft ashore, and I can’t do it by myself.”

 

“A fess—a fess is—you don’t need to know what a fess is. I’ll show him how to make it when he gets to it.”

 

One morning I happened to turn over the salt-cellar at breakfast. I reached for some of it as quick as I could to throw over my left shoulder and keep off the bad luck, but Miss Watson was in ahead of me, and crossed me off. She says, “Take your hands away, Huckleberry; what a mess you are always making!” The widow put in a good word for me, but that warn’t going to keep off the bad luck, I knowed that well enough. I started out, after breakfast, feeling worried and shaky, and wondering where it was going to fall on me, and what it was going to be. There is ways to keep off some kinds of bad luck, but this wasn’t one of them kind; so I never tried to do anything, but just poked along low-spirited and on the watch-out.

 

Buck looked about as old as me—thirteen or fourteen or along there, though he was a little bigger than me. He hadn’t on anything but a shirt, and he was very frowzy-headed. He came in gaping and digging one fist into his eyes, and he was dragging a gun along with the other one. He says:

 

“What got you into trouble?” says the baldhead to t’other chap.

 

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