I Write Like...
How to Analyze Your Style
There’s a website, iwl.me (“iwl” for “I write like”) which purports to tell you which famous author your style resembles. Who can resist trying that?
I gave it a short story I’ve written, 850 words (I can’t print it here since it’s still out for rejection review by some magazines). Anyhow, it said I write like Cory Doctorow! Wow, I’ll take it. He’s non-fiction, but whatever.
I tried copying a selection of Mr. Doctorow’s writing into it, to see if Cory Doctorow writes like Cory Doctorow. Amazingly, he does! As Ken Burns said, defending his trademark technique of zooming and panning still images, “It’s called having a style.”
So I decided to dig a little deeper into this question of literary style. I actually paid the $29.95 for a lifetime Premium membership, so I could figure out how it works. Oh well. Don’t make my mistake. At least it’s not a monthly subscription.
Hemingway
Arguably the most influential stylist of the 20th century, there are even “fake Hemingway” contests, like this. So I asked IWL, “does Hemingway write like Hemingway?” I gave it this opening to The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber:
IT WAS NOW LUNCH TIME AND THEY WERE all sitting under the double green fly of the dining tent pretending that nothing had happened.
"Will you have lime juice or lemon squash?" Macomber asked.
"I'll have a gimlet," Robert Wilson told him.
"I'll have a gimlet too. I need something," Macomber's wife said.
"I suppose it's the thing to do," Macomber agreed. "Tell him to make three gimlets."
The mess boy had started them already, lifting the bottles out of the canvas cooling bags that sweated wet in the wind that blew through the trees that shaded the tents.
"What had I ought to give them?" Macomber asked.
"A quid would be plenty," Wilson told him. "You don't want to spoil them."
"Will the headman distribute it?"
"Absolutely."
Francis Macomber had, half an hour before, been carried to his tent from the edge of the camp in triumph on the arms and shoulders of the cook, the personal boys, the skinner and the porters. The gun-bearers had taken no part in the demonstration. When the native boys put him down at the door of his tent, he had shaken all their hands, received their congratulations, and then gone into the tent and sat on the bed until his wife came in. She did not speak to him when she came in and he left the tent at once to wash his face and hands in the portable wash basin outside and go over to the dining tent to sit in a comfortable canvas chair in the breeze and the shade.
"You've got your lion," Robert Wilson said to him, "and a damned fine one too."
IWL said he writes like Jack London!
So my next question, if you’re following along, is, “Does Jack London write like Jack London?”
I gave it this opening to The Call of the Wild:
Into the Primitive
"Old longings nomadic leap, Chafing at custom's chain; Again from its brumal sleep Wakens the ferine strain."
Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies were booming the find, thousands of men were rushing into the Northland. These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong muscles by which to toil, and furry coats to protect them from the frost.
Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley. Judge Miller's place, it was called. It stood back from the road, half hidden among the trees, through which glimpses could be caught of the wide cool veranda that ran around its four sides. The house was approached by gravelled driveways which wound about through wide-spreading lawns and under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars. At the rear things were on even a more spacious scale than at the front. There were great stables, where a dozen grooms and boys held forth, rows of vine-clad servants' cottages, an endless and orderly array of outhouses, long grape arbors, green pastures, orchards, and berry patches. Then there was the pumping plant for the artesian well, and the big cement tank where Judge Miller's boys took their morning plunge and kept cool in the hot afternoon.
And over this great demesne Buck ruled. Here he was born, and here he had lived the four years of his life. It was true, there were other dogs, There could not but be other dogs on so vast a place, but they did not count. They came and went, resided in the populous kennels, or lived obscurely in the recesses of the house after the fashion of Toots, the Japanese pug, or Ysabel, the Mexican hairless,--strange creatures that rarely put nose out of doors or set foot to ground. On the other hand, there were the fox terriers, a score of them at least, who yelped fearful promises at Toots and Ysabel looking out of the windows at them and protected by a legion of housemaids armed with brooms and mops.
“Jack London” was the answer! Score two.
How Does It Work?
Since AI is all the rage now, you’d naturally suspect that IWL must be a super-sophisticated system using the power output of Three Mile Island. Nope. I won’t disclose too much of their private content, but it seems to me like something you could run on your laptop:
I Write Like employs a statistical analysis of word choice and sentence structure. Initially, this analysis was conducted for each author in our database.
They even say it’s similar to how spam detection for email works.
There are 50 famous authors whose style was analyzed. I won’t list them all here, but clearly Cory Doctorow, Ernest Hemingway, and Jack London are among them, as well as more current ones like J.K. Rowling, Dan Brown, and William Gibson. Missing are:
John Steinbeck
William Faulkner
Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Brontë sisters
Dashiell Hammett
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Franz Kafka
Virginia Woolf
George R.R. Martin
I could go on.
How Does AI Do?
Grok
I fed my story to Grok, X’s own AI, and asked what author it resembled.
This story, with its straightforward prose, focus on everyday struggles, and exploration of familial relationships tinged with miscommunication and understated tension, feels reminiscent of Raymond Carver. Carver, a master of minimalist short fiction, often wrote about working-class characters navigating personal disappointments, strained connections, and moments of quiet revelation—or lack thereof. The story’s unadorned style, emphasis on dialogue, and the way it leaves questions unanswered (like how Steve and Kalaya missed each other) mirror Carver’s approach in stories like those found in What We Talk About When We Talk About Love or Cathedral. The sense of characters fumbling through life’s uncertainties without grand resolutions also aligns with his tone.
ChatGPT
We’re on a roll now. What does OpenAI’s offering say?
This story's tone and style might remind some readers of Raymond Carver. Here's why:
Straightforward, minimalist prose – The language is clean and unadorned, very much like Carver’s hallmark style.
Everyday people, small dramas – The story focuses on a domestic situation, the kind of mundane-yet-emotionally-weighted scenario Carver often explored.
Understated emotion – The narrator never spells out how he feels too directly. There’s quiet exasperation, a little bitterness, some humor, but it’s all under the surface.
Disconnected relationships – Like much of Carver’s work, there’s a feeling of emotional distance—between Dan and Steve, Steve and his parents, Kalaya and everyone. That tension hums quietly in the background.
Focus on what’s not said – The story doesn’t tell us whether Dan really likes or dislikes Steve, or if he’s jealous, or if he trusts Kalaya. But those questions linger—and that ambiguity is very Carver-esque.
It also has a touch of Charles Bukowski or even early Richard Ford, with the slightly gritty, emotionally detached male narrator going through the motions in a confusing or anticlimactic situation.
Did you write this piece? It’s got a nice quiet momentum—never flashy, but it builds a world.
Wow. That’s two for Raymond Carver.
I actually have a book of Richard Ford short stories from the library right now.
Perplexity
The writing style of "The Go-To Guy" most closely evokes the work of Raymond Carver or Richard Ford. Here’s why:
Minimalist, Realist Prose: The story is told in a straightforward, unembellished style, focusing on ordinary people in everyday situations. The sentences are clear and direct, with little ornamentation—a hallmark of Carver’s “dirty realism.”
Domestic Tension and Subdued Emotion: Like Carver, the narrative explores the subtle tensions and disappointments within families, particularly between brothers and parents, and the understated emotional landscape of the protagonist.
Focus on Mundane Details: The story dwells on small, practical actions (answering phones, driving to the airport, making calls), using them to reveal character and mood, much as Carver and Ford do in their short fiction.
Ambiguity and Unresolved Endings: The lack of a dramatic resolution and the open-ended, somewhat anticlimactic conclusion are reminiscent of Carver’s approach, where life’s messiness and lack of closure are central themes.
While the story does not employ the overtly poetic or surreal touches of authors like Ray Bradbury or Tom Robbins, nor the genre-driven tension of Stephen King or Elmore Leonard, it shares the concise, weighty prose style admired in writers like Ruth Rendell and the focus on everyday characters and situations that mark the work of Carver and Ford.
If you’re looking for a famous author to compare this to, Raymond Carver is the closest match, with Richard Ford as another strong parallel. Both are known for their understated, emotionally resonant explorations of ordinary American lives.
Gemini (Google)
This story reminds me of the writing style of Raymond Carver.
Here's why:
Minimalism: The story is told in a very straightforward, unadorned way. There's a focus on simple language and a lack of flowery descriptions or emotional embellishment.
Everyday Situations: The narrative revolves around ordinary people and their everyday problems. The focus is on the mundane details of life.
Understated Emotions: The characters' emotions are often implied rather than explicitly stated. Dan's frustration, confusion, and mild resentment are conveyed through his actions and brief, terse statements.
Lack of Resolution: The story doesn't offer a neat, tidy conclusion. There are lingering questions and unresolved issues, such as how Steve and Kalaya missed each other at the airport. This ambiguity is a hallmark of Carver's work.
Blue-Collar/Working-Class Focus: The characters and their situations feel grounded in a working-class reality, a common theme in Carver's stories.
Short, Simple Sentences: The prose is characterized by short, declarative sentences, creating a sense of sparseness and directness.
Carver's style is known for its "dirty realism," and this story shares many of those characteristics.
Conclusion
Skip I Write Like. AI does it much better.
I actually hadn’t read any Raymond Carver before this came to my attention, but I checked out Why Don’t You Dance? I didn’t much care for it. I find Richard Ford much deeper and more interesting.