It only sticks as yours if it sounds like you

AI-generated text has an accent. Readers may not be able to name it, but they hear it — the balanced clauses, the tidy transitions, the enthusiasm that belongs to no one in particular. And the moment they hear it, something changes: the words might inform, but they stop being yours. An idea sticks to its author. Generic prose has no author to stick to.

Prompting an AI to “write in my style” doesn’t solve this, because the model grades its own homework. It produces something vaguely smoothed toward you and calls it a match.

Write to Stick separates the roles. One pass drafts against a profile built from samples of your real writing. A second pass judges the draft against those samples — and it rejects. “Too formal.” “You never open with a qualifier.” “The third sentence has a rhythm you’ve never used.” The draft goes back, gets rewritten, and is judged again until it passes.

You only ever see text that survived the judge. That’s the standard that matters: not “sounds professional,” but “sounds like you on a good day.” Because when the piece lands, the reader shouldn’t remember that a tool was involved. They should remember you.