Sitting behind me are about two dozen books on copywriting and marketing. Each one is worthless in its own unique way. Perfect snowflakes of dull, spirit numbing advice designed to make you better at polishing turds.
These cheap grimoires are filled with the blackest of magick. Spells and incantations designed to make you buy shit you don’t need made by the tiny hands of hungry peasant children.
I’d recommend just about any self help book on reclaiming the creative spirit before any of the chunks of pyrite littering the business section of your nearest airport bookstore. Tony Robbins is practically Gandalf compared to the dark wizards that write business lit.
The only two marketing books I can even kind recommend are Confessions of an Advertising Man by David Ogilvy (1963) and How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie (1936). Both provide an archeological look at the business culture glorified in Mad Men.
Ogilvy’s book is a guide to how to conduct yourself as a professional in a creative industry. Carnegie’s is an extremely functional system of psychic Judo that is adaptable to any social situation online or otherwise. There are some gems in each that’ll appeal to anyone who grew up without a manly father figure to teach them shit about square dealing and firm handshakes.
In the last six months or so I really kind of lost my way. I went hogwild reading every single article about Twitter and Facebook I could. What I should’ve been doing with all that time was refilling my creative tank with lush experiences and actually writing something people might want to read.
Friends, I implore you. Burn your copies of Fast Company. Delete every single business from your “following” list on Twitter. Stop forwarding articles about the 5 or 10 things you can do to maximize traffic to your site to the sad bastard in the cubicle next to you.
Instead, take jungle drugs prepared by shamans. Read love poetry to ancient death goddesses. Meet your neighbors. Buy a homeless guy a sandwich. Piss outside. Tell someone you like their outfit. Flirt with a meter maid. Read the entire label on a bottle of Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap while you soak in a long bath.
Do it now before it’s too late.