I Write Like... Author Similarity Statistical Analysis Algorithm

[innerspaceboy]

I Write Like

Check which famous writer you write like with this statistical analysis tool, which analyzes your word choice and writing style and compares them with those of the famous writers.

How does I Write Like work?

The algorithm pretty simple, and you can find it on every computer today. It’s a Bayesian classifier, which is widely used to fight spam on the Internet. Take for example the “Mark as spam” button in Gmail or Outlook. When you receive a message that you think is spam, you click this button, and the internal database gets trained to recognize future messages similar to this one as spam. This is basically how “I Write Like” works: I feed it with the whole text of Frankenstein and tell it, “This is Mary Shelley. Recognize works similar to this as Mary Shelley.” Of course, the algorithm is slightly different from the one used to detect spam, because it takes into account more stylistic features of the text, such as the number of words in sentences, the number of commas, semicolons, and whether the sentence is a direct speech or a quotation.

I took this test years back and was pleased that my writing sample returned that I was most like my beloved James Joyce. A more recent writing sample this evening returned that I write like H. P. Lovecraft, which was similarly satisfying.

I searched the forum but don't see any results for the test as having been posted previously. Forgive me if it was. Post your results and your thoughts about them!

Test URL: https://www.codingrobots.com/iwl/

[Frownland]

My result says David Foster Wallace but if the algo knew anything, it'd know I was directly ripping off Pynchon in that passage. It could be on the level of seeing that we both earnestly but unsuccessfully emulate the greats though.

Spoiler for Text:

What he didn’t know was that the casino was a chain, with a location just miles away. It’s in one of those desert towns much like ours that’s just a glorified highway strip mall vaguely adjacent enough to trailer parks that skip lots and shift shape despite congealing into one singular location manifested in collapsible mirages of houses and streets that clone one another like a cancer, infecting every tract parallel to suffocated rivers damned to occasional muddy creeks riddled with disease and **** stink. The type of town that pounces just as you nod off during a long road trip where you stared too long and hard at the sprawl of asphalt slicing cyclical bundles of brush and succulents before dashing away just as quickly as it appeared, evading all manner of maps and backtracking even though there’s no other highway where you could have been. Places that bounce in and out of your peripheral, where no one seems to live, that you might escape to from where you began. Where only a moment passes and you look down at your withered hands realizing you’ll soon be dead. And that moment so fleeting, so nothing, that death will be a gift. Barely noticing the web of footsteps surrounding you. Who have you abandoned? Or did they abandon you? A gas station, one of six corporate grocers or a hastily repainted marketplace waiting to be purchased, a pawn shop, church lots stuffed with tireless cars, a landlord’s passion project of craft store, cafe, or other undercustomered business model for a place most will only ever know as Where I Pissed Once, and occasionally, one of many franchises within a casino chain. (I saw the sign on the way to pick up his body.)

[SGR]

I got Margaret Atwood. Henry Miller is probably my biggest influence.

Spoiler for Text:

Life is an exotic arsenal, fully loaded with a menagerie of ammunition. A bullet, whisked with oil, speeding through the sky imitates the fragility of life. So quickly projected and just as quickly taken away. If you were wishful, you'd pull the pin and take the naysayers with you. For courage is not only quantified in the sacrafices you make, but also in the risks you take.

We laugh, and we love, and we judge. Why can't they believe like you or I do? Their belief is in a lack of anything meaningful. They hate for the sake of hating. If anything, the hated are abhorred because some must be. The targets may realign but the hatred arrives all the same. Pluck your lip and pick your luck, a laugh and a life in love or muck. Bread and circuses keep us sane - while our lives and families continue to be maimed.

Just squeeze, for once! Take a risk in your life! Don't you want some excitement, some uproar and strife?! Forget tomorrow, there is only today. Put down your fragile conscience, for it's time to play.