It'd be nice if we had a breakdown on how it determines who we write like.

I'm a little suspicious after I took a rather long excerpt from stephen king's "the shining" and it generated Arthur Clarke

its free and doesn't have many adverts so im going to assume it doesn't have a huge amount of processing power or data to back up its anolyses

Edit: ok, im calling shinanigans. I typed this in: "shaka shaka choo flipperty gibbit tttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt" and it gave me james joyce, what nonsense.

I think that's on page 247 of Ulysses. Looks like the program hit that one right on the head to me.

Meanwhile I'm disputing Pluto's claim to winning the thread...I pasted in a chunk of Arvil Bren's Journal and it came back Rudyard Kipling.

EDIT: two more samples came back Jonathan Swift and Ursula K Le Guin. Overall I would buy the programmer a drink. Wonder what it would take for it to spit out 'you write like a hack' though.

He's the mind behind books like Slaughterhouse Five. It's a good thing.

You write in Iambic Pentameter. Haven't you noticed?

I write like Vladimir Nabokov, author of http://www.amazon.com/Stories-Vladimir-Nabokov/dp/0679729976/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386314304&sr=1-6&keywords=Vladimir+Nabokov.

Actually, he's the man who wrote things like The Gift, Pale Fire, and Lolita.

Here's the sample I submitted:

"Jill stared at the... Thing. Standing just twenty feet from it, she knew it towered over her for light years, if not entire galaxies, and yet she could see all of it within her field of vision. It was perfectly spherical, with trillions of jagged corners protruding from it, and featureless. But it had Eyes. And Wings. And Limbs that scurried with a sound that took her soul back to the days of the War. And it had a Maw. A Maw within Maws upon Maws BEYOND Maws. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. Like nothing she COULD see. It was impossible, and it terrified Jill because she KNEW it was impossible. And yet it was. How long had this been? Always? Never? Both were equal impossibilities, and perhaps both were true, but the answer would do nothing for her now. But what terrified Jill most of all was that she had beheld this thing with her own eyes, stared at it and all of its impossibilities, and that her mind, with all of its synapses and neurons, had tried with all its might to comprehend and rationalize what it was that she was seeing, and this was the best it could do."

Yeah, it's pretty much just ego stroking nonsense. I'm compared to Stephen King or David Foster Wallace.

Oddly enough, Mark Twain writes like Ernest Hemingway. Ernest Hemingway writes like J. D. Salinger, and J. D. Salinger writes like J. D. Salinger. Ding!

L Frank Baum, damn i was hoping for Dr Seuss.

I got Cory Doctorow. Ironically we share similar birthdays.