So, do you write like a famous author?

I couldn't resist. In fact, as soon as I heard about the Web site, I knew I'd have to try it out.

The site is called I Write Like, and it will analyze your writing style to determine (supposedly) which famous author your writing style most resembles. It's only been up a few days, and it already has analyzed 1.5 million pieces of text, so apparently I'm not the only curious one. It's easy. You visit the site, paste in a paragraph or two of your writing, press a button, and ta da! The comparison is made.

But don't take it too seriously. It was developed by Russian software developer Dmitry Chestnykh, who already told news outlets he's not particularly qualified to analyze literature - the site is really just a learning experiment for him.

Maybe that's why when CNN pasted in Kim Kardashian's blog entries, they were said to resemble the writings of James Joyce. Or maybe they do. I don't know; I'm not familiar with the blog, so who am I to judge?

But who cares, right? It still sounded fun. So I went to the site, www.iwl.me and cut and pasted a paragraph of text from this blog. I hit the "Analyze" button. Guess who?

Stephenie Meyer. Yep. Of Twilight fame. Now I really need to get around to finishing that book.

Because I'm greedy, I decided to try again. I cut and pasted a paragraph from a news story I'd written years ago about a center that helped children deal with grief. I always liked how that story turned out. I pressed "Analyze."

Chuck Palahniuk - the author of Fight Club.

Wow. Those are pretty different. Really, really different.

All right then. Well, I'm nothing if not flexible.

Would time travel change your career?

I've been thinking a lot about the movie Hot Tub Time Machine. No, I haven't gone over the edge - I haven't even seen the flick, although I hear it's pretty funny. What I've been thinking about, specifically, is the aspect of time travel.

I think the whole thing started earlier this week when my former employee, the Gannett Corp., announced in a fairly bloodless memo that it would be creating regional hubs to take on their papers' design work. It's efficient, they say. It's necessary. And it's going to eliminate about 500 more jobs in an industry - an industry I still think of mine - that's reeling from uncertainty and job loss.

Gannett's been slicing and dicing for years, but I guess this move, more than any other, solidified the notion for me that journalism isn't really my industry anymore. I left. I can't go back. Now, would I ever really want to? I mean, c'mon - low pay, bad hours, crazy editors - it's not exactly a glamour industry. Any overworked reporter or editor will tell you that.

Who knows? But I never felt the door slam so hard in my face as it did this past week. There's no going home again, as they say. And that's where my time travel thoughts wandered in - spurred, of course, by the comedy advertised on cable.

If I could go back in time and talk to my college self (I'm sure I could find her in a campus tavern) and tell her that the industry she'd chosen - one that she would eventually allow to practically define her - would hit such hard times by the time she hit (ahem) nearly middle age, would she listen? Would she care? Would it make a difference?

Would I have given up all that I got out of newspapers if I'd known that one day, just when I was comfortable with all that I knew and learned, I'd have to leave and start over again on another career path? Would it be worth it?

Or would I change course, take another route entirely, save myself some time?

It's hard to say, of course. Revisionist history steps in. Today's work is hard, yesterday's work was fabulous. Then I remember the nutty editors, the newsroom job shuffle, the time I was forced to call a woman who's daughter was just mauled by a bear, for God's sake.

But I'm proud of what I did while I was there. And I'm learning, step by step, the rules of the new career I'm in now. Would I have changed the past if I knew the future? Hard to say. Would you?

Do you have the time to be a writer?

For the longest time, I had a great list of excuses why I didn't have time to write. Well, okay - they weren't really excuses, per se, because they were all true. So I guess you could call them reasons.

I had a full-time job. I just had a baby. I had a toddler. My computer was slow. My computer was broken. I was a volunteer. I had to cook dinner. I was exhausted. I just ...couldn't. Not today.

Whenever I heard about an author doing particularly well, I would immediately read his or her biography. "Well, sure," I'd tell myself. "I could write a masterpiece if I didn't have to (fill in the blank) or if I had a (fill in the blank)."

I would be envious. And unhappy. Because no one's life was as hard as mine. I just couldn't manage to find the time to write. Could I?

Then I realized something. I don't think it came to me with a bolt of lightning or in any impressive Oprah-like 'Ah-ha!' style. But suddenly, it was there.

I could make all the excuses I wanted. I could find every valid reason in the world not to write. They could be true. They could be worthy. But in the end, it didn't matter. Time would pass, and my stories still wouldn't be written. And no one would care but me.

In the end, only I could know whether I had the passion and drive to be a writer.

I decided I did - that maybe my life wasn't the hardest after all. And suddenly, those success stories I found myself reading proved me out.

Stephen King was a schoolteacher when he wrote Christine - he wrote in a tiny closet he revamped into a writing area. Debbie Macomber wrote her first stories on a rented typewriter, dyslexic and the mother of four young children, typing up manuscripts that were rejected for five years. Scott Turow wrote his blockbuster Presumed Innocent on the train on the way to work, in longhand, starting in his daughter's Strawberry Shortcake notebook - the only one he could find.

And way back in the day, Louisa May Alcott knew that if she didn't sell her short stories - never mind Little Women - her family would be destitute. So she wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

Are there tricks and tips that can help you find time to write? Sure. Google the phrase and dozens of articles come up. But deep down, I think it comes down to more than any tip or trick - it's a question: Do you have the time to be a writer?

Introducing the Freelancer from Hell

I've been hearing a lot about freelancing lately - it's getting more and more popular as staffs are cut but copy is still needed. It makes sense. I freelance. You probably freelance, too.

But I hear a lot of authors offer advice to newbie freelancers. Be tenacious, they say. Don't give up. Don't give in.

Solid advice to a point, I believe, but I have to wonder if any of these authors have ever worked the other side of the fence - you know, as editors. I have. And I have a few freelancers who still appear in my nightmares occasionally. I doubt anyone would duplicate their behavior, but I swear I'm not making these stories up.

So let me introduce you to one of my favorite Freelancers From Hell. I'll call her "The Diamond in the Rough."

This freelancer was tenacious. She called me every single day, usually with story ideas that were borderline interesting. She sent in story samples that were not that great, and when I told her, politely, that she didn't really seem to know a lot about journalism and AP style, she informed me she was a "diamond in the rough" and that she was hoping I could help her improve.

Yeah. About that. Not to be mean, but I kind of had my own staffers to worry about. I really didn't have time for stone polishing. But she kept calling. And I gave in. She wrote a few small stories. They weren't that great. But frankly, I needed the copy.

Eventually, I let her do one of her own stories - a simple human interest piece about a woman who had an extensive herb garden.

She turned it in. It was okay. Not great, but okay. The woman had 220 herbs in her garden, according to the story. That seemed like a hell of an herb garden, so I read it back to her.

The garden was amazing, she told me. So we printed the story. Two days later, the herb lady herself called. She had 22 types of herbs in her garden. So I called the freelancer. "How could that happen?" I asked her. "Did you not notice the difference in the size of garden?" She was defensive, and swore that was what the subject told her. But then she hemmed and hawed. "Well, I didn't actually see it," she eventually told me. "I just talked to her by phone. I guess I could have misheard."

So annoying. She hadn't lied to me, per se, but I still felt like I'd been had. That was that, I thought. Bye bye, freelancer.

But she kept calling. She was very sorry, she said. She'd do better. Writing was her life. Would I please give her another chance? Please? Please? She called about art exhibits. About Branson shows. Finally, after weeks of daily torture, I gave in.

I know - stupid, stupid me. Editors today probably know better. But I was a sucker.

One more chance, I told her. That's it. She told me she would be interviewing this Branson entertainer after his show, to do a little human interest piece on him. So when the phone rang soon after, I assumed it would be her. It wasn't. It was the entertainer's assistant. She was very worried. It seems the entertainer didn't have time to talk to my freelancer, and the freelancer lost it. Just lost it.

My freelancer allegedly said that if the entertainer didn't talk to her, then the paper was going to essentially run a hatchet piece on the show. The assistant was very upset. Was this true? It was just that he was very tired - he would be happy to reschedule.

I was speechless. I was horrified. As a matter of fact, I was in disbelief. I had the woman describe my freelancer, to make sure it wasn't somebody pretending to be her. But it was her. So I assured the assistant that no hatchet piece was planned, and that was not the way we did business.

Then I politely called said freelancer and made an appointment for her to come into my office. I put a stickie note on my computer reminding myself not to kill her.

When she came in, I didn't mince words. "I heard you threatened (so and so) in Branson with a negative article if he wouldn't talk to you," I said evenly. "Can you tell me what happened there?"

She burst into tears. "I'm so sorry," she said. Stupidly, I thought the apology was directed at me. But she continued. "I'm so sorry, Jesus," she said, and she dropped to her knees.

Um, what?

Then she looked at me. "I know this isn't the way Jesus wants me to act. I know he's not proud of me now." I didn't know if that was directed to me or not. I really didn't want to be accused of talking for Jesus. I just wanted out of of that office, and out of this freelance relationship pretty much more than anything in the world.

Eventually, I got out. I didn't kill her. I hope I didn't speak for Jesus. I did sever our relationship. And I did have my assistant answer the phone for the next two weeks - you know, just in case.

Snakes, stories and those big bylines

As professional writers, we all know the importance of having a steady flow of killer ideas.

But what, exactly, is a good idea? You know, an idea that will hold an editor's attention, make a reader look twice, keep our bylines out there and our mortgages paid.

To me, it comes down to the grapevine. But wait - I'm getting ahead of myself.

See, when I think of a good story idea - an unlikely good story idea - I tend to think of "Snakes on a Plane." Really. I do. And here's why. When that movie was coming out, I was a features writer at a paper, and it was my job to come up with interesting story ideas each week. Now, I wasn't a film reviewer. And our own reviewer had basically ignored the movie, which was opening that weekend, over other, more highbrow offerings.

But to me, a story idea is simply this - it's what people are talking about. Sure, what you choose depends on the publication you're targeting, but what you're looking for is what people are chatting about or doing.

That will lead you to your stories. You'll find trends. Happenings. Interesting people, places and things that will pique your interest - whether they're fun things like how crowded your local farmer's market is getting, or disturbing things like how dirty and littered your local lakeshore has become.

And that week, I realized that people were talking about snakes. And planes. No, it wasn't the most highbrow movie out there, but it had gained a following long before it hit the screen. I found out there were entire blogs dedicated to the title. Special midnight showings scheduled. And ringtones where you could download Samuel Jackson saying he had "had it with these MF-ing snakes on this MF-ing plane!"

I thought it would would make a great feature - all this hype over a movie title. But the higher-ups at the paper were not convinced. The movie was silly, they said.

Whatever. I'm not particularly wild about snakes or planes, but here's the wonderful thing about ideas. You don't have to think it's a great trend. You just have to recognize it as one. I didn't want to stand in line to see the movie. But I wanted to talk to the people who did.

The editors were finally convinced. So I talked to would-be fans. I talked to a psychologist about why this movie title was so appealing. I talked to a herpetologist, who was dismayed at the hype. The story went over extremely well. Several of my editors were mystified. They shouldn't have been.

Stay interested. Find out what people are talking about. Chances are you'll find your next byline close by.

That book obsession? It's a good thing

A few years ago, my husband and I were shopping for a new home. We'd visited house after house, and we couldn't figure out why so many of them looked so odd inside to us. Then we realized it - there were no books.

No books. Can you imagine? But it's true. Many of the houses we visited had absolutely no bookshelves. Now, to be fair, they could have packed them away before the house went on the market, or even because the house was on the market, but regardless, a house with no books feels empty and cold.

Not surprisingly, my house is filled with books. Books I've read a dozen times. Books I'm planning on reading. Books I've borrowed from the library and need to hurry and read before I rack up another overdue fine. I apparently suffer from what author Nicholas Basbanes calls in his fascinating tome about book collecting, "A Gentle Madness."

(In fact, he says only somewhat tongue in cheek, obsessive book collecting remains the only hobby to have a disease named after it.)

I'll take it. I love my books. I'll let people borrow them, sure - I want people to borrow them and enjoy them - but I do have a tendency to inquire after them like an over-eager parent: ("Have you started reading it yet?" "I know the first chapter is slow, but it gets better really fast." "Did you like it?" "Did you think the third chapter was funny? Because I thought the third chapter was funny.")

My books are my friends, even though when you pack them up and move, they tend to be heavy, expensive friends. But that's okay. Because I've learned that having those books lying around serves yet another purpose. It's helping my kids - even if they're not reading them. Seriously.

I was reading this great blog written by Jane Heitman Healy called readlearnandbehappy.blogspot.com. Healy is the Electronic Resources Coordinator for the South Dakota State Library, and an obvious book lover after my own heart. (It's a really interesting blog, by the way; you should check it out).

Anyway, her latest post offers this link to a study done by a professor at the University of Reno, Nevada, that apparently shows parents who have books in the home increase the level of education their children will attain.

Now, I've always known that reading to your children is a wonderful thing, but this study takes a love of literature one step further - it makes my book obsession beneficial.

Now when I spend a bundle at the bookstore and get that dirty look from my husband, I can just gaze at him soulfully and say, "But honey - it's for the children."

Tell me a story in just six words

Can you tell me about your life in six words? How about just a piece of it? I know, even that sounds daunting. But writers everywhere are giving it a try through an addicting storytelling platform known as six-word memoirs.

These six-word stories were actually started years ago by Ernest Hemingway, who created one, allegedly on a bet (For sale: baby shoes, never worn). They were brought back to life in 2006 by online storytelling magazine Smith Magazine, which still welcomes them at its site, (http://www.smithmag.net)

They were brought to my attention by my former colleague Steve Koehler, who decided to use them on the first night of a writing course he teaches as a way to get to know his students.

I thought that was a great idea. Six-word memoirs, besides being absolutely addicting once you've tried writing them, offer an intriguing snapshot into a person's life - often hilarious, sometimes tragic, occasionally mysterious.

Take these disparate examples that stick in my memory from Smith's current online collection: "No more flushing tampons. Homeowner now." And "I hardly ever lied to you." Or "Screw this novel. Start another one."

Six-word memoirs run the gamut - that's why they're such an excellent writing tool, says Beth Carter, whose six-word memoirs are featured in the newly published book, "It All Changed In An Instant: More Six-Word Memoirs By Writers Famous & Obscure," available through Amazon as well as at Borders and Barnes & Noble for about $10.

I recently asked her about the inspiration and thoughts behind those quick hits she crafts:

"I definitely feel that six-word memoirs help with my writing," she said. "Writers always have to edit excess words from their manuscripts or short stories. With six-word memoirs, you're forced to only use relevant words so I believe I write more concisely in other genres.

"Sometimes I want to convey a powerful message, like my memoir on page 186: "He left. Sparked my personal D-Day." That's a true story about the time my ex left me. He just packed his bags and walked out. I stood there with our toddler daughter watching my world fall apart."

And if you're lacking for ideas, six-word memoirs might provide that tiny jolt of inspiration you need, she adds.

"They're great writers' prompts. I always tell writers to pick up the book, open a page, and write a short story based on one of the six-word memoirs. And it's fun to think of a timely topic, like Father's Day or summer, for example, and come up with creative, brief thoughts."

I've been putting them together in my head during my long commute home, and I have to say she's right. Learn more about Beth at her blog, http://banterwithbeth.blogspot.com

Give it a try. You might find you're a master.