Practice and improve writing style. Write like Abraham Bram Stoker

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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.

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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!

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“Instantly the stone flew back. The hidden figure within darted forward and thrust out its lance. Then it rose up and disappeared. I thought I might now safely press on the seven stars; and did so. Again the stone rolled back; and the ‘Treasurer’ flashed by to his hidden lair.

Here the father and daughter went into the room together, and the door closed.

“Yes, I know. I have always heard well of you! Where and when did you meet Margaret?”

“Then my poor Silvio is acquitted! I am glad!” Her father stroked her hair and went on:

“Knowledge! I am completely ignorant of Egyptian matters, language, writing, history, secrets, medicines, poisons, occult powers—all that go to make up the mystery of that mysterious land. This disease, or condition, or whatever it may be called, from which Mr. Trelawny is suffering, is in some way connected with Egypt. I have had a suspicion of this from the first; and later it grew into a certainty, though without proof. What you have said tonight confirms my conjecture, and makes me believe that a proof is to be had. I do not think that you quite know all that has gone on in this house since the night of the attack—of the finding of Mr. Trelawny’s body. Now I propose that we confide in you. If Mr. Ross agrees, I shall ask him to tell you. He is more skilled than I am in putting facts before other people. He can speak by his brief; and in this case he has the best of all briefs, the experience of his own eyes and ears, and the evidence that he has himself taken on the spot from participators in, or spectators of, what has happened. When you know all, you will, I hope, be in a position to judge as to whether you can best help Mr. Trelawny, and further his secret wishes, by your silence or your speech.”

I then began therefore to apply my new key to the copy of the cipher in the printed pages.

All was dark. The moon was hidden behind a bank of cloud, only the edges of which tinged with light showed its place in the heavens. I looked at Marjory�s watch which she had laid upon the table, having wound it up instinctively before the sleepiness had come upon her. It was now a few minutes past one.

�I don�t know!� she said naively. I felt that she was concealing something from me; but that it was a something so tender or so deep in her heart that its very concealment was a shy compliment. So I smiled happily as I said:

When we left Cathcart�s room, after a cigar, I, being somewhat tired with my long ride, went at once to my room. Adams came with me as far as the door.

�Then how did you come to know them?� There was a distinct note of pride in her answer. Such a note as might be expected from a prince speaking of his ancestry:

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Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated, through the wide entrance into the courtyard.

(z) His pursuers might follow. This is his highest fear; and in order to prevent his being betrayed he has repelled, so far as he can, even his victim—me!

“Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!”

“Me too?” said Quincey Morris. “May I come?” said Harker. I nodded, and we all went down the passage together.

Practice and improve writing style. Write like Abraham Bram Stoker

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