A couple of days ago I sat through a course on writing by Drayton Bird, along with 40 or so other people.

The good thing was, although it was a live seminar, I didn’t have to leave the comfort of my home: It was a webinar.

This was one of three webinars Drayton is holding on learning how to write to persuade.

And one thing he emphasized, along with many others, is the importance of reading. Not reading books on writing, or marketing, or any type of business book.

The books he told us to read are novels. And not just any novels, but novels written by people who know, or knew (some may or may not be alive now), how to write.

You see, these people write in such a way that you can’t resist reading on. Their style of writing compels you to read from beginning to end.

One author I find unable to put down is Agatha Christie. I never used to read her books until Matt Furey recommended them in one of his emails.

Now I’m hooked.

The thing with Agatha Christie, and the ones on Drayton’s list,  is that if you read them you can see why they’re so good.

And, if you follow the way they write, it can only make your own writing much better.

And that includes copywriting.

If you want to know more about the writing course, go here http://www.draytonbird.com/proper. That’s not an affiliate link.

Meanwhile, it just so happens I found a very interesting piece on the importance of reading. It was written almost a hundred years ago by one of the founders of the BBD&O advertising agency, Bruce Barton.

It’s a short but compelling piece. I enjoyed reading it. I think you will, too.

Take it away, Bruce.

Your Body May Live In The Cellar; But It’s Your Own Fault If Your Mind Lives There

THE other night my friend Ferrero and I spent a few years with Julius Caesar in ancient Rome.

We went with him on his campaigns in Gaul. Those were wonderful battles — wonderful fighters.

From a hill-top we could watch the whole battle — thousands of men driving at each other with their swords, hurling their javelins at short range. No smoke, no trenches; just primitive, hand-to-hand conflict.

We came back to Rome. The city was in a turmoil. Our great chariots thundered through the streets in triumph; our captives, our spoils, our banners made a magnificent procession. The crowds cheered wildly.

Another evening my friend Green and I had a great time together in ancient
Britain.

We went down to Runnymede with a group of English nobles. They were powerful men, each a petty king in his own section; but every one of them took his life in his hand on that expedition.

And there we gathered around King John, and forced him, against his will, to put his name to the Magna Carta, the Great Charter which is the foundation of
English liberties — and our own.

I had a fine time with Napoleon a few nights before.

I met him when he landed in France, after the escape from Elba.

Up through the southern provinces he came, gathering a few troops there, winning over by the force of his eloquence the regiments sent to capture him.

We arrived in Paris. Hurriedly, but with supreme confidence that the Little
Corporal could never fail; we got together a makeshift army and set out to strike the winning blow at Waterloo.

That battle — I shall never forget it.

Another day I went over to old Concord, and spent the whole afternoon with Emerson.

We talked about Representative Men. Well, well, you say, what foolishness is this? What do you mean by saying you lived with Caesar and Napoleon and Emerson — all centuries apart, all long since dead?

If you do not know what I mean, then I pity you.

Have you never come home tired from your office, and with a book transported your foolish little mind clear out of the present day?

Have you never learned the joy of surrendering yourself to the companionship of the great men of the past?

Have you never sat in the little London Club and heard Sam Johnson thunder his philosophy of life?

Have you never sailed up and down the American coast with Captain John Smith, dodging the Indians and opening up a new continent?

Are you one of the wretched, poverty stricken souls who have never learned to escape from yourself through the blessed magic of good books?

Have you contented yourself all your life with the companionship of good pinochle-players, when you might have been a familiar friend of Socrates and
Milton and Napoleon and Cromwell and Washington and Columbus and Shakespeare and Lincoln and Rousseau?

If so, cut out this paragraph from a great man and paste it in your hat:

I would rather be a  beggary and dwell in a garret, than a king who did not love books.

There are some marvellous experiences coming to you.

You can in the evenings to come jar yourself out of the petty rut where circumstance has placed you, and become a familiar of the immortals.

You may learn to face the world with a new confidence, a new poise, a new self respect, because you have made yourself a citizen of the ages.

Do some real reading.

Do it for the joy it will give you: Do it for the good it will do you.

“Show me a family of readers,” said Napoleon, “and I will show you the people who rule the world.”

Best,
Rezbi
www.directmarketingcourse.com
www.commonsensedirectmarketing.com