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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Ernest Hemingway

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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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'Come on, let's go some place where we can get some real beer,' one of them said, and they went out to the car. One of them walked unsteadily. The motor-car jerked in starting, whirled on the road, and went on and away.

 

He lay then and was quiet for a while and looked across the heat shimmer of the plain to the edge of the bush. There were a few Tommies that showed minute and white against the yellow and, far off, he saw a herd of zebra, white against the green of the bush. This was a pleasant camp under big trees against a hill, with good water, and close by, a nearly dry water hole where sand grouse flighted in the mornings.

 

'Aren't you going back to work, dear?' asked the doctor's wife from the room where she was lying with the blinds drawn.

 

We'd come in that town at one end and we were going out the other. It smelled of hides and tan bark and the big piles of sawdust. It was getting dark as we came in, and now that it was dark it was cold and the puddles of water in the road were freezing at the edges.

 

'Don't drink that,' she said. 'Darling, please don't drink that. We have to do everything we can.'

 

'You beat-up old bastard,' he said to the mirror. Portrait was a thing of the past. Mirror was actuality and of this day.

 

He paid the owner of the motor boat and told him that he had not forgotten about the jeep engine. He also told him not to count on it, but that there was a good chance that he could get it.

 

Her voice was low and delicate and she spoke English with caution.

 

'Portrait,' he said. 'You better look the other way so that you will not be un-maidenly. I am going to take a shower now and shave, something you will never have to do, and put on my soldier-suit and go and walk around this town even though it is too early.'

 

'But do you think it was the same in the time of the Grand Captains?'

 

The old man settled himself to steer. He did not even watch the big shark sinking slowly in the water, showing first life-size, then small, then tiny. That always fascinated the old man. But he did not even watch it now.

 

A small bird came toward the skiff from the north. He was a warbler and flying very low over the water. The old man could see that he was very tired.

 

"Come on," the old man said aloud. "Make another turn. Just smell them. Aren't they lovely? Eat them good now and then there is the tuna. Hard and cold and lovely. Don't be shy, fish. Eat them."

 

"The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see," the old man said. He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea. "I missed you," he said. "What did you catch?"

 

He had sailed for two hours, resting in the stern and sometimes chewing a bit of the meat from the marlin, trying to rest and to be strong, when he saw the first of the two sharks.

 

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