I Write Like…

I write like
Kurt Vonnegut

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

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17 Responses

  1. That’s the guy who doesn’t use semi colons, isn’t it?

    I can’t brag much about mine:


    I write likeDan BrownI Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

    • I wish I could remember where I read this, but apparently the software doesn’t actually analyze anything. It just consists of a list of prominent authors and picks one at random.
      I hope you’re not disappointed.
      I always figured Cousin Avi’s style was at least partly influenced by the good doctor, Hunter S. Thompson. A very similar vibe, and that’s not a bad thing.

  2. So it goes.

  3. Kurt Vonnegut is dead.

  4. And my father almost killed him. He was a bombardier aboard a B-17 over Dresden.
    He always hated Vonnegut, since he felt Vonnegut blamed the regular GI’s for dropping the bombs on civilians. Like they had a choice. Well, they could have gone before a firing squad for refusing to obey orders.

    • I hate Pat Metheny.

    • Yeah and your dad almost killed my grandmother too.

      She was supposed to be there visiting a relative who, if I recall, was flambéed for the crimes of her government. Luckily for me, Grannie had to cancel the trip a couple of days before.

      • Sorry about that. My dad’s dead, so he can’t apologize. It’s funny – it obviously bothered my father to see me reading a book by Vonnegut.
        He was not normally a thin-skinned man – as a liberal columnist he routinely got postal and telephone death threats. A local police captain attempted to murder him (he missed, and there were no witnesses).
        Dad brushed all that off, but Vonnegut’s criticism of bomber crews really bugged him.

        • It takes a village to raise a bomb; a bomb that goes on to raise another village. (I should copyright that one.)

          The war machine requires a lot of parts to do their part. (Stop me before I gun-pun again!) A bomber crew doesn’t drop a bomb any more than a ground crew, a weapon manufacturer, a General, the politicians who started it, or the voter who voted for them does.

          So, I don’t require a posthumous apology…unless he enjoyed killing civilians, which is probably unlikely, but not unheard of, if only as a result of being “caught in the moment”.

        • Sorry, but as an old copy editor I can’t control myself. When you destroy the village it’s spelled “raze.”
          I hate myself when I correct other people’s language. Excuse me while I step outside and shoot myself in the knee or something. I deserve it.

        • Shit, you’re right.

          I thought it didn’t look right, but my spell-check declared otherwise. A mistake that actually reverses the meaning of the sentence. Good call Mr Editor!

          I plead “spell check induced illiteracy”, your honour.

  5. My writing is like Canadian Sci-Fi writer and privacy enthusiast, Cory Doctorow. (only better)

  6. Most of my attempts at fiction start out “It was a dark and stormy night.”
    I get a lot of rejection letters.

    • Try: The earth stopped spinning yesterday. It was definitely stormy, but this was the brightest “night” ever.

      • God, don’t make me look that up. The obvious guess would be “The Day the Earth Stood Still.”
        If I’m right, I’ll move on to Potent Potables for 800.
        Speaking of booze and Jeopardy, Google “Trebeck” and “drunk.” There is an enormously funny YouTube bit of him absolutely shit-faced, trying to record promos. Alex swills booze between every screwed-up take and yells “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” It’s great.

        • Look it up? I wrote that this afternoon. If that’s NOT the first time, ever, anywhere, that sentence has been jot down, then I’ve been pre-plagiarized. Look it up, indeed! Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with here?
          Potent Potable, my ass! We’ll take Go Fuck Yourself for a thousand.

        • I challenge you to a duel, sir. I propose banana cream pies at three paces. May the better man throw up first.

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