Does Spelling Good Kount?
Well, Yes (But…)
“A man’s errors are his portals of discovery.” – James Joyce
“Ooh la la,” as the Faces sang on album that ended
their career. Last week, the more astute of you
will remember, I made a mistake.
Not just once, but several times over.
I gave a “though” when I meant to “thou.”
Yes, dear reader, to answer the oft-submitted
follow-up question… I do know the difference.
But apparently, the “Auto-Correct” does not… or
no longer does, thanks to my own tinkering no
doubt.
But the bottom line is that, I let the error fly.
And you let me know about it.
Er… thank you for that. As penance, allow me to
give you this, in lieu of today’s regular issue.
In the clips below, you’ll find a whole bunch of
musings on what spelling and grammar should mean –
or shouldn’t — for writers.
We’ll start here…
* Yep, “thou”… “though”… not even close, in all
but a lunatic’s dictionary.
In my own defense and to answer another of your
questions (not asked but implied), there is indeed
a career difference between copyWRITING and
copyEDITING. I’m the former but, it turns out, not
much of the latter.
To make it clear once and for all, copyWRITERs
write stuff. CopyEDITORs disdain what’s written,
usually with red ink on their fingers.
* You won’t believe this, but I’ll try anyway: I
used to be a spelling bee champ. Or at least, a
frequent finalist.
Of course, this was back in eighth grade when
“spell checker” meant “nun with a red pen and a
stern look.” Much more intimidating than a setting
under the “Tools” menu in Microsoft Word.
These days, though, you’re right. It’s all too easy
to let the machines do the work.
And much as machines can make a good frappuccino,
they fall short on subjective judgment.
In that spirit, let’s polish off this old chestnut
(a poem from the CR archives that I didn’t write):
The Spell Checker Poem
Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.
Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.
As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rare lea ever wrong.
Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.
Ah, ha ha… phew! (Wipe tears of laughter and joy
from thy (thine?) cheeks here) I never get tired of
that one.
** And as long as we’re reading poetry, how about
the one by this clown? Goes by the name Chaucer or
something — what a hack!
Whan that April with his showres soote
The droughte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veine in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flowr;
Whan Zephyrus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye
That sleepen al the night with open yë –
So priketh hem Nature in hir corages –
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seeken straunge strondes
To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Canterbury they wende,
The holy blisful martyr for to seeke
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seke.
Of course, Chaucer was writing back in the 1300s,
when there was a severe shortage of grade school
teachers or nit-picky emails from readers 
.
** Here’s a story that seems like it’s got little
to do with anything: Have you ever heard the secret
history of whipped cream?
Says my wife, on one Sunday a long time ago the
King and Queen of France decided to drop on a
friend for dinner. Along with, they brought a
jillion or so of their palace entourage.
France being a Catholic country, all the shops were
closed. So in a panic, the chef and staff had to
improvise a feast.
When it came to dessert, he didn’t know what to do
to make it “fancy” enough for the king. At the last
minute, he whipped together fresh cream and sugar -
- or what they French now call “chantilly,” after
the chateau town where it was invented.
The royals lapped it up (not literally, I don’t
think) but the chef couldn’t be consoled. He went
upstairs and fell on his own sword (literally this
time).
“Too bad,” said the queen, after hearing the news,
“I thought it was pretty good.”
(Gourmands and historians, I know… it sounds like
“une légende urbaine” to me too. But let it go. The
story works better that way.)
** By way of trying to get to a point that story
doesn’t quite get to, try this:
Some time ago, my father showed me a piece of promo
copy from one a client. “Look at this,” he said,
“the calculation in this subhead is wrong.”
And right he was. It was a blunder, flat out. “It
makes me not want to read further. And I’ll bet
that’s true of other readers, too.”
On this, I remember thinking, I’m sure was right
too. And that would be a shame. After all, I knew
the product — a financial letter — that the promo
offered.
Typos aside, it had a 95% accuracy rate on its
market picks… with a running average of better
than 130% gains.
** This begs the question: Just how important are
typos and other small errors, in the grand scheme?
Convention tells us they matter a lot. And lots of
smart people would agree. But I can’t help but
wonder if they — we — should.
** You may or may not know this, but one of
America’s most famous novelists, F. Scott
Fitzgerald was miserable when it came to spelling.
So many editors refused to look at his work because
of it, he had a room in his hope papered with their
rejection letters.
Even Maxwell Perkins, who finally saw potential
behind the typos, called Fitzgerald’s spelling
skills “lamentable.”
And Fitzgerald never got over his bad spelling
either. He even repeatedly misspelled the name of
one of his closest writer friends, Hemingway, as
“Earnest Hemminway.”
I’m not making that up.
** Hemingway wasn’t much better. He regularly told
his editors that fixing his garbage spelling
mistakes was “what they were paid to do.”
Faulkner, too, was ham-handed at spelling. Even
though he and Hemingway both won Nobel Prizes for
Literature.
So were Flannery O’Connor, poet John Keats, and
Jane Austen — all notoriously bad with the typos
and genuine spelling mistakes.
Along with them were John F. Kennedy, William
Butler Yeats, Winston Churchill and Ben Franklin.
Again, I’m not making this up.
In a love letter, Keats famously wrote “purplue”
instead of “purple.” When his lover caught him on
it, he tried to convince her it was a real word,
meaning “a cross between blue and purple.”
Thanks to her thick Hampshire accent, Austen
thought ‘tomatoes’ was spelled ‘tomatas.’
Franklin, not to be outdone, used to blame his
spelling mistakes on the “inadequate alphabet.”
Even Einstein was a rotten speller — twice over,
it turns out, because he made mistakes in both
English and German.
Does that make any of these men and women “flops?”
Does it make their work irrelevant or discardable?
Fortunately, not in the eyes of some.
** What I’m getting at, I guess, is that — sure –
we all hate to make mistakes.
And yes, the rules of style and grammar DO matter.
Absolutely. But even if you can’t forgive the
writer before you, be sure to tell yourself this
much:
That style is surface, not substance. And substance
is far, far more important to writing well.
** This is important because, ask yourself, how
many times have you read technically perfect
writing that had no heart?
On the flip side, have you ever read a typo-laden
note from, say, a little kid… that still managed
to hit you in the gut?
** Rules matter, but sometimes… they don’t matter
so much as we seem to think they should, is I guess
what we’re getting at. Or trying to. Some years
back, I wrote about this in another issue of the
CR. It went something like this:
“Who needs rhetorical questions?” asks Ned Hardy,
self-anointed curator of the Internet.
He has 22 more zingers like these in his post, “How
to Write Good” (yes, his winking title, not mine).
For instance, #4 which warns, “Employ the
vernacular” and the ever popular #2, “Prepositions
are not words to end sentences with.”
At #3, we can forgive him the overused, “Avoid
cliches like the plague (they’re old hat).”
But only because he’s got my favorites at #10 and
#15, where he says “One should never generalize”
and “Be more or less specific.”
Mind you, I’m not always a fan of these “rules”
lists, mostly because I’m not a fan of writing
rules in general.
How so?
Don’t get me wrong, I believe rules matter. But do
they always apply? No. At least as simply as Ned’s
list tries to pretend. For instance, at rule #18,
he says, “One word sentences? Eliminate.”
That’s hogwash.
In copy and lots of writing, one-word sentences
provide a kind of illumination and rhythm can be a
great way to underscore a point and control pacing.
I use them all the time, and without apology.
Likewise, his list warns at #19, “Analogies in
writing are like feathers on a snake.” Hmm. In my
opinion, that’s as overly strict as… as… well,
you get the point.
** Those aren’t the only times I’ve thrown a few
tips out there that seem to fly in the face of
conventional wisdom.
In fact, digging through the archives, it looks
like I’ve done it a lot more than I remember.
For instance, here’s an old tidbit on how to use
numbers in copywriting:
“Statistics, percentages, dollar amounts… can all
hit harder than words, used properly. But where
normal writing might spell out a number,
copywriters often opt for the actual digit (9…
3… 5,632%) when possible.
“Why? Because it’s much faster to soak up and
harder hitting. It sticks. And it’s instant. Both
are things that all good copy must be.”
Or this one, on how to “write like we talk:”
“The grand-daddy of rules about sales copy is that
we’re supposed to ‘write like people talk…’ This
simply means that you generally want to use shorter
sentences… even clipped phrases and small
words… plus lots of contractions… and, yes, the
occasional (or even frequent) ellipsis.
“Oh, and one line paragraphs.
“Without verbs.
“Not always, but often enough that people move
between sentences in a way that mimics what we call
‘barstool speaking.’
** What I guess I’m saying is this: Yes, typos can
be dangerous (just ask the guy who blew through
that “SOTP” sign).
And yes, even small errors can send one miles off
course down the road (I read that once in a juice
bottlecap). We — me included — should all pay
more attention.
But just be sure that the devotion to precision
isn’t costing you a greater insight, which is
simply this: good writing and good thinking in
general depend much more on the quality of the core
ideas than on the style in which they’re presented.
This nor anything else is an excuse to write or
think sloppy. It’s just a correlated caution.
Or at least, it’s what I think quietly to myself
(up until now) each time I get an email that
starts, “Hey, don’t you know how to spell…?”
Contributed by John Forde
Guest Contributor
http://copywritersroundtable.com/
Filed under copywriting, write, Writing by on May 22nd, 2012. 
Did you know the sounds different letters make can make your copy more or less powerful?
It’s true. Or, at least, it is according to G.W. Freeman.
He wrote an article around 90 years ago where he gives examples. How the letter ‘S’ can make your copy sound ‘faster’. How the letter ‘P’ can give your copy ‘power’.
And how the letter ‘H’ can give your copy ‘force’.
Maybe you have other thoughts about this. Let me know what you think.
Meanwhile, take it away G.W.
The Tone Of Voice In Copy
By G. W. Freeman
“EASY to write, hard to read,” was declared by Robert Louis Stevenson to be an axiom of the scrivener’s art . . . and advertising writing cannot escape the laws that govern the creation of all effective copy.
Two people utter identical phrases, and one repels by his truculent gruffness, whereas the other with soft and pleasing tones, charms.
That is a matter of tone of voice.
The printed word offers few mechanical devices for indicating stress and manner, and so the advertising writer must employ words as tools for modifying stress and tone, and by his literary style develop a pleasing tone of voice in his copy.
The pictorial side gets painful thought so as to make the advertisement appeal.
And then the one element that can really appeal to the mind and to the imagination is dismissed with “Make it brief,” or “Just talk naturally.”
“Natural” copy is the hardest to write. It takes most labor, that is, if it seems natural
For most copy that is written “just like you talk” reads like nothing under heaven.
Here is a piece of copy written “naturally” by an engineer for a manufacturer of rubber belts:
“. . . the present day farmer will buy only the best, regardless of initial cost, for experience has taught him that low first costs invariably mean higher ultimate costs.”
That’s natural writing.
But does it sound as natural as this: “Did you ever buy a likely looking scrub cow only to find that she never gave enough milk to pay for her feed? If you have, you’ve learned that low first cost does not always pay best. There are scrubs among farm belts, and there are pure-breds, and you know which kind will give you satisfaction.”
Professional rhetoricians bid us avoid “alliteration’s artful aid.”
And yet there is a valid reason why we, as copy writers, should employ it.
Alliteration formed the basis of the early poetry of our race, and that early influence is persistent.
Our forefathers, sitting through long cold evenings in their draughty halls, drank and sang in unison, eagerly beating time to the alliterative syllables of the song.
Consider this stanza from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (937 A.D.):
Her Aethelstan cynig,
eorla drighten beorna beahgifa,
and his brothor eac Eadmund Aethling,
ealdor laugne tir ge slogan aet Saecce,
suorda ecgum.
Vowels alliterated with any other vowels, as in the first and third lines. See how the b’s beat through the second line, and the s’s through the fourth.
Alliteration is valuable in headlines
“Montreal or Miami, it’s all the same to a Marmon,” is more effective than “Palm Beach or Quebec, it’s all the same to a Marmon.”
The value of the alliteration is in its swing and tinkle.
But alliteration is attractive and useful only in headlines. In body text it gives an effect of insincerity.
Consider this bit of copy which appeared in a booklet issued years ago by an advertising agency: “We produce copy that causes prospects to pause, ponder and purchase.”
That not only sounds strained, it bears the earmarks of the “smart alec.”
RHYME is always to be avoided in headlines, just as every copywriter shuns accidental rhymes in the body of his text
And yet, while rhymed headlines and rhymed text are anathema, rhymed slogans are worth their weight in platinum because they jingle around in the brain like an unforgettable tune:
“The Wilson Label Protects Your Table.”
“Read and Write by Emeralite.”
These belong right along with
“Thirty days hath September”
and
“Punch, brothers, punch with care, punch in the presence of the passengaire.”
And for the same good reason—we can’t forget the rhyme.
We all know that words suggest related ideas—connotation. The more pleasing the connotation, the more pleasing the effect of the word.
The classic horrible example once quoted by an otherwise intelligent advertising man was “Make the old home into a new house.” And I personally don’t believe that any advertising man, not even the boss’s younger brother, ever wrote that!
But aside from their connotation, are there any pleasing words—or unpleasing ones?
In and of themselves, pleasant or unpleasant?
THUS there is a displeasing sequence: The liquids, “1″ and “r,” are closely related in sound, and like people that are closely related, they do not get along well together.
Consider this sentence from a recent “Sunmaid Raisin” page advertisement in the Post:
“If you like delicious, wholesome, full fruited raisin bread.”
—
I defy anyone to read that the first time and not say, “delicious, wholesome, full fluited raisin bread,” or at least “Full fruited laisin bled.”
It’s like that classic tongue twister, “The rat ran over the roof with a lump of raw liver in its mouth.”
Discordant sounds have their use; however, for the skillful copy writer will employ them when he touches lightly on those conditions which he wishes to appear unpleasant.
Thus a Weed Chain advertisement, which described the “smug” content of the foolish driver who left his chains back in the garage.
But on the positive side of the subject, are there pleasing words?
Who does not roll such words as these under his tongue?
- Power
- Purple
- Promise
- Progress
- Proven
- Providence
And as for “profit”—the greatest of these is Profit.
Closely allied to “v” is “f,” and r-p-f is almost as pleasing at r-p-v.
Consider these trade names:
- Paramount Pictures
- Packard
- Peerless
- Pierce Arrow
and
- Ivory Soap
See how they are charged with “r’s” and “p’s.”
Contrast these two pieces of copy —one full of “r’s” with one “f” and one “p” and the other a succession of “k” sounds:
“She will be beautiful of course in the rosy future pictured by a mother’s dream.”
“Wash your hair becomingly, always have it beautifully clean and well kept and it will add more than anything else to your attractiveness.”
Now examine this from a recent Jordon offering:
“Nimble, snug and hammock swung close to the skimming road, this fascinating car glides lightly on its way.”
Count the “s’s”.
That’s the secret of its speed and action. For “s” is the symbol of the present active verb.
It denotes action.
To speed copy use short words. Short sentences. Short paragraphs. Words filled with s’s.
But speed isn’t always what we are after.
Sometimes a client prefers that we obtain results—and that often calls for emphasis. To give weight to any point use, a few more words.
“Every drill is inspected 50 times” may be just as true as “Every drill is inspected time and again, thoroughly, painstakingly, and must meet no less than 50 separate tests”, but it carries less weight than the longer sentence.
Don’t be obsessed by the short-word, “mania”. If you want weight, and even if you need a long word for beauty, don’t balk at a polysyllable.
Short words aren’t necessarily “good old Anglo-Saxon”. Latin has given us “mob” and “vest” and “togs”.
If you want force, I suggest that you try out a few words with initial “H”.
‘H’ is a forceful letter.
Just open your mouth and let out a “whoop” or a “holler” and you’ll see why.
The Greeks called the H-sound a “rough breathing”.
Just listen a moment to this list:
- Ha
- Halt
- Hold on
- Hump
- Hey you
- Hark
- Hand it
- Here
- Hack
- Hit
- Hate
- Hell
That gives us a clue to the strength that has been injected into this headline – The Blue Heart guarantees excess rope strength – “The Blue Heart” sounds stronger than the word “strength”.
Best,
Rezbi
www.directmarketingcourse.com
www.hotbuttoncopywriting.com
www.commonsensedirectmarketing.com
Filed under advertising, copywriting, Writing by on Aug 15th, 2010. 1 Comment.
Did you know the sounds different letters make can make your copy more or less powerful?
It’s true. Or, at least, it is according to G.W. Freeman.
He wrote an article around 90 years ago where he gives examples. How the letter ‘S’ can make your copy sound ‘faster’. How the letter ‘P’ can give your copy ‘power’.
And how the letter ‘H’ can give your copy ‘force’.
Maybe you have other thoughts about this. Let me know what you think.
Meanwhile, take it away G.W.
The Tone Of Voice In Copy
By G. W. Freeman
“EASY to write, hard to read,” was declared by Robert Louis Stevenson to be an axiom of the scrivener’s art . . . and advertising writing cannot escape the laws that govern the creation of all effective copy.
Two people utter identical phrases, and one repels by his truculent gruffness, whereas the other with soft and pleasing tones, charms.
That is a matter of tone of voice.
The printed word offers few mechanical devices for indicating stress and manner, and so the advertising writer must employ words as tools for modifying stress and tone, and by his literary style develop a pleasing tone of voice in his copy.
The pictorial side gets painful thought so as to make the advertisement appeal.
And then the one element that can really appeal to the mind and to the imagination is dismissed with “Make it brief,” or “Just talk naturally.”
“Natural” copy is the hardest to write. It takes most labor, that is, if it seems natural
For most copy that is written “just like you talk” reads like nothing under heaven.
Here is a piece of copy written “naturally” by an engineer for a manufacturer of rubber belts:
“. . . the present day farmer will buy only the best, regardless of initial cost, for experience has taught him that low first costs invariably mean higher ultimate costs.”
That’s natural writing.
But does it sound as natural as this: “Did you ever buy a likely looking scrub cow only to find that she never gave enough milk to pay for her feed? If you have, you’ve learned that low first cost does not always pay best. There are scrubs among farm belts, and there are pure-breds, and you know which kind will give you satisfaction.”
Professional rhetoricians bid us avoid “alliteration’s artful aid.”
And yet there is a valid reason why we, as copy writers, should employ it.
Alliteration formed the basis of the early poetry of our race, and that early influence is persistent.
Our forefathers, sitting through long cold evenings in their draughty halls, drank and sang in unison, eagerly beating time to the alliterative syllables of the song.
Consider this stanza from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (937 A.D.):
Her Aethelstan cynig,
eorla drighten beorna beahgifa,
and his brothor eac Eadmund Aethling,
ealdor laugne tir ge slogan aet Saecce,
suorda ecgum.
Vowels alliterated with any other vowels, as in the first and third lines. See how the b’s beat through the second line, and the s’s through the fourth.
Alliteration is valuable in headlines
“Montreal or Miami, it’s all the same to a Marmon,” is more effective than “Palm Beach or Quebec, it’s all the same to a Marmon.”
The value of the alliteration is in its swing and tinkle.
But alliteration is attractive and useful only in headlines. In body text it gives an effect of insincerity.
Consider this bit of copy which appeared in a booklet issued years ago by an advertising agency: “We produce copy that causes prospects to pause, ponder and purchase.”
That not only sounds strained, it bears the earmarks of the “smart alec.”
RHYME is always to be avoided in headlines, just as every copywriter shuns accidental rhymes in the body of his text
And yet, while rhymed headlines and rhymed text are anathema, rhymed slogans are worth their weight in platinum because they jingle around in the brain like an unforgettable tune:
“The Wilson Label Protects Your Table.”
“Read and Write by Emeralite.”
These belong right along with
“Thirty days hath September”
and
“Punch, brothers, punch with care, punch in the presence of the passengaire.”
And for the same good reason—we can’t forget the rhyme.
We all know that words suggest related ideas—connotation. The more pleasing the connotation, the more pleasing the effect of the word.
The classic horrible example once quoted by an otherwise intelligent advertising man was “Make the old home into a new house.” And I personally don’t believe that any advertising man, not even the boss’s younger brother, ever wrote that!
But aside from their connotation, are there any pleasing words—or unpleasing ones?
In and of themselves, pleasant or unpleasant?
THUS there is a displeasing sequence: The liquids, “1″ and “r,” are closely related in sound, and like people that are closely related, they do not get along well together.
Consider this sentence from a recent “Sunmaid Raisin” page advertisement in the Post:
“If you like delicious, wholesome, full fruited raisin bread.”
—
I defy anyone to read that the first time and not say, “delicious, wholesome, full fluited raisin bread,” or at least “Full fruited laisin bled.”
It’s like that classic tongue twister, “The rat ran over the roof with a lump of raw liver in its mouth.”
Discordant sounds have their use; however, for the skillful copy writer will employ them when he touches lightly on those conditions which he wishes to appear unpleasant.
Thus a Weed Chain advertisement, which described the “smug” content of the foolish driver who left his chains back in the garage.
But on the positive side of the subject, are there pleasing words?
Who does not roll such words as these under his tongue?
- Power
- Purple
- Promise
- Progress
- Proven
- Providence
And as for “profit”—the greatest of these is Profit.
Closely allied to “v” is “f,” and r-p-f is almost as pleasing at r-p-v.
Consider these trade names:
- Paramount Pictures
- Packard
- Peerless
- Pierce Arrow
and
- Ivory Soap
See how they are charged with “r’s” and “p’s.”
Contrast these two pieces of copy —one full of “r’s” with one “f” and one “p” and the other a succession of “k” sounds:
“She will be beautiful of course in the rosy future pictured by a mother’s dream.”
“Wash your hair becomingly, always have it beautifully clean and well kept and it will add more than anything else to your attractiveness.”
Now examine this from a recent Jordon offering:
“Nimble, snug and hammock swung close to the skimming road, this fascinating car glides lightly on its way.”
Count the “s’s”.
That’s the secret of its speed and action. For “s” is the symbol of the present active verb.
It denotes action.
To speed copy use short words. Short sentences. Short paragraphs. Words filled with s’s.
But speed isn’t always what we are after.
Sometimes a client prefers that we obtain results—and that often calls for emphasis. To give weight to any point use, a few more words.
“Every drill is inspected 50 times” may be just as true as “Every drill is inspected time and again, thoroughly, painstakingly, and must meet no less than 50 separate tests”, but it carries less weight than the longer sentence.
Don’t be obsessed by the short-word, “mania”. If you want weight, and even if you need a long word for beauty, don’t balk at a polysyllable.
Short words aren’t necessarily “good old Anglo-Saxon”. Latin has given us “mob” and “vest” and “togs”.
If you want force, I suggest that you try out a few words with initial “H”.
‘H’ is a forceful letter.
Just open your mouth and let out a “whoop” or a “holler” and you’ll see why.
The Greeks called the H-sound a “rough breathing”.
Just listen a moment to this list:
- Ha
- Halt
- Hold on
- Hump
- Hey you
- Hark
- Hand it
- Here
- Hack
- Hit
- Hate
- Hell
That gives us a clue to the strength that has been injected into this headline – The Blue Heart guarantees excess rope strength – “The Blue Heart” sounds stronger than the word “strength”.
Best,
Rezbi
www.directmarketingcourse.com
www.hotbuttoncopywriting.com
www.commonsensedirectmarketing.com
Filed under advertising, copywriting, Writing by on Aug 15th, 2010. 1 Comment.
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
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