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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Rudyard Kipling

Improve your writing style by practicing using this free tool

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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Type these lines in the boxes below to practice and improve your writing style.

‘That was the very thing I was thinking just now,’ said Stickly-Prickly. ‘I think scales are a tremendous improvement on prickles—to say nothing of being able to swim. Oh, won’t Painted Jaguar be surprised! Let’s go and find him.’

 

When the Man and the Dog came back from hunting, the Man said, ‘What is Wild Horse doing here?’ And the Woman said, ‘His name is not Wild Horse any more, but the First Servant, because he will carry us from place to place for always and always and always. Ride on his back when you go hunting.

 

Up jumped Nquing from his burrow in the spinifex and shouted, ‘Go away!’

 

‘There weren’t any,’ said Tegumai. ‘My only visitor this morning was the poor fellow that you are trying to choke. Aren’t you well, or are you ill, O Tribe of Tegumai?’

 

‘Then we can never be friends again,’ said Wild Dog, and he trotted off to the Cave. But when he had gone a little way the Cat said to himself, ‘All places are alike to me. Why should I not go too and see and look and come away at my own liking.’ So he slipped after Wild Dog softly, very softly, and hid himself where he could hear everything.

 

“We do,” said the bullocks. “It is red stuff that soaks into the ground and smells.”

 

The next few days were spent in getting the elephants together, in walking the newly caught wild elephants up and down between a couple of tame ones to prevent them giving too much trouble on the downward march to the plains, and in taking stock of the blankets and ropes and things that had been worn out or lost in the forest.

 

Mowgli put up his strong brown hand, and just under Bagheera’s silky chin, where the giant rolling muscles were all hid by the glossy hair, he came upon a little bald spot.

 

“Thou wilt not forget that thou art a wolf? Men will not make thee forget?” said Gray Brother anxiously.

 

I knew who “they” were, so I put on my boots and waterproof and scuttled out into the slush. Little Vixen, my fox terrier, went out through the other side; and then there was a roaring and a grunting and bubbling, and I saw the tent cave in, as the pole snapped, and begin to dance about like a mad ghost. A camel had blundered into it, and wet and angry as I was, I could not help laughing. Then I ran on, because I did not know how many camels might have got loose, and before long I was out of sight of the camp, plowing my way through the mud.

 

The Jackal, who had been growing more and more interested in the story, had just time to leap back as the huge tail swung by like a scythe.

 

“It was a big stone that I threw,” chuckled Mowgli, who had often amused himself by throwing ripe paw-paws into a hornet’s nest, and racing off to the nearest pool before the hornets caught him.

 

“That his food never fails, and in consequence——”

 

“The Jungle does not cast me out, then?” Mowgli stammered.

 

“There is stuff in my stomach, but I get no good of it. Think you, Bagheera, the Rains have forgotten us and will never come again?”

 

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