Reviews

reviewed by Nick Asbury

Well, where to begin? First, with a few thank-yous. To Phil Collins himself for a brilliantly insightful lecture (more of which later). To the 250 lucky people who turned up. To event sponsors The Storytellers, alongside IABC, Simply Experience and The Writer, all of whom contributed to a fantastic evening. And not least to Ezri Carlebach, John Simmons and Martin Clarkson, the three 26 members who took on the weighty responsibility of making this whole thing happen.

As for the speech itself, we’re planning to have the whole thing available for download for 26 members, so I won’t attempt to paraphrase it here. However, in the tradition of political speeches, here are some memorable soundbites:

“A great speech relies on three elements: the argument, the writing and the occasion.”

“A good speech is dialogue in the garb of monologue.”

“You know you’ve matured when you delete a great line because it doesn’t matter.”

“Writing is arguing silently.”

“Maradona Good. Pele Better. George Best.”

“It’s not the words but the facts that make us shiver. The emotional effect comes from the restraint that allows the subject to be its own witness.”

“Jargon is how I protect my right to income from talking this way.”

“Absorb half a dozen great writers every year.”

“No joke will survive a committee of six people.”

“Always be sure to let the audience know exactly when you’ve finished.”

Just about every sentence was equally quotable. The final Q&A session also led to the startling revelation that Tony Blair’s choice of early morning attire is usually “some combination of boxer shorts, Ugg boots and tracksuits.” If you work for the News of the World, feel free to pick up that exclusive and run with it.

reviewed by Nick Asbury Which comes first – writing or design? A conclusive answer came at a memorable evening hosted by the London Design Festival at their new offices in London’s Frith Street. Sensibly taking into account his audience, Domenic Lippa of Pentagram spoke glowingly of how great writing can lodge in the mind – in a way that great design hasn’t always managed to achieve. Martin Clarkson, Chairman of 26, made an equally vigorous case for writing’s role, whilst urging writers and designers to break out of their self-imposed ghettos and take a more cross-disciplinary approach. Meanwhile, host Sir John Sorrell summed up with a selection of wise words from David Ogilvy – including a persuasive argument for why great headlines should never be set in upper case. The speakers sparked off a series of lively conversations around the room, fuelled by free-flowing wine and an interesting selection of sushi. As for which comes first... a slight organisational mix-up meant that all the writers arrived at 6.30pm, while the designers turned up half an hour later. So that’s that settled.

 

reviewed by Claire Falcon, Falcon Windsor Oh the terror of appearing on stage! So thought ten Dark Angels when script writer, director, producer and star of the show John Simmons told us he needed a ‘choir’ to help him finish his ‘Forever Young’ talk at the Globe in November. Hearts in our mouths, we arrived 15 minutes early, fortified by a few swift glasses in the Globe’s delightful bar overlooking the river, to be told our fate.

Knowing nothing more than that John would be expanding on themes from 26’s latest book, The Bard & Co, about the relevance of Shakespeare to modern life and business, the possibilities for public humiliation seemed limitless – particularly when we remembered the fiendish exercises John and his fellow tormentors set us on the Dark Angels writing course.

We needn’t have worried, however. John had done all the hard work, and just needed us to add a few (carefully scripted and choreographed) words at the end of his talk. So, rather than hovering nervously in the wings, hoping somehow John would avoid mentioning the Scottish play, we sat back comfortably in the lecture theatre in the depths of the Globe and waited for enlightenment.

And enlightening it certainly was – whether or not you’d read the book, in which 26 writers each wrote a piece inspired by one of Shakespeare’s plays and one of his original company of (26) actors. Relating Shakespeare to modern business writing might seem a rather arcane exercise, but as John revealed in a fascinating exposé, the principles of good writing remain the same whatever the medium, as each of the book’s essays demonstrated in different ways. It seems we could all do a lot worse than turn to Shakespeare for inspiration.

So what of the angelic choir? Well, it was the Globe after all, so how better to conclude than to perform a sonnet? Not just any sonnet, however: a 14-line verse in Shakespearian rhyming couplets expounding the ten principles of good writing by one J. Simmons, Esq. No doubt to become another fiendish exercise for next year’s Dark Angels.

reviewed by Jeremy Hildreth Michael Wolff at 26: “I’ve been sacked twelve times. I’m very used to it.”

One of the things Wally Olins told me about Michael Wolff was how much fun they had befuddling clients about their roles on a project. In meetings, the clients would get confused about who was doing what: “I thought he was the designer [the client would say, pointing toward Michael] and you were the copywriter. What’s going on here?” Now having met Michael Wolff myself (at this 26 talk) I can see exactly what Wally was talking about. And I have to say: would that all graphic designers were as facile with, adoring of and attentive to words as Michael Wolff.

Most writing is written to be written and it shows, he says; writing should be written to be read – or even better, heard. And he proves his point by pulling from his pocket and reading aloud a letter he’d received earlier in the day from an agency of some sort. The missive announces ‘important developments’. “Important to whom? Not to me! I don’t give a f….,” trailing off politely. Good writing, he says, should have (among other traits) humour, humility, colour and clarity. “Why, just because it’s corporate writing, does it have to be so barren, witless, stultifying and ‘nobody home’?” he pleads. “And why do we [planting himself on our side] adapt ourselves to this so easily?” We shouldn’t. We know. We’re ashamed. We look down at the floor. Shuffle feet.

Then he walks us through his famous four-room creative theory. Room 1: admiration. “I used to do work that looked like the work of people I admired”. Room 2: reasonability. “There was a time when I hadn’t yet realised, as Shaw pointed out, that nothing great is done by reasonable men. Great work often falls down because it appears unreasonable.” Room 3: precedent. “You’ve done something before. It worked. So why not sort of do it again? But it doesn’t get you anywhere.” And then... the magical Fourth Room: “the room of not knowing… here is where you create something that wasn’t here before.” Here ignorance is bliss. Here naivety is intelligent. And when the prospective client says ‘but you’ve never worked in our industry!’ or ‘but you’ve never done this kind of project!” you say: which is precisely why you should hire me… because at least with me you stand a chance of getting something groundbreaking, something worthwhile.

reviewed by Simon Jones, Ink Copywriters

How can pictures tell a story without words? How can words grab attention without pictures? This age-old debate was given new life in Bristol on 7 June when John Simmons and acclaimed photographer Martin Parr stepped up to the mic – for the West of England Design Forum.

What emerged were two very different approaches to storytelling. Martin’s photos – that chronicle the Great British holiday, the finery of English cupcakes and ‘the last space’ in supermarket car-parks – often shine a new and obscure light on familiar scenes and private lives. While much of John’s work focuses on teasing-out the stories that lie hidden within large organisations.

One of the most poignant examples of this was John’s recent position as writer-in-residence for the London Underground. In an environment dominated by timetables, performance targets and health and safety – John inspired staff to write short stories, poems and even a novel in a series of creative workshops.

The evening (which was a sell-out) was a great reminder of the power of creative storytelling – by two of the best in the business.

reviewed by Nick Asbury

On Saturday 26 May, 26-ers George Craigie and Jamie Jauncey helped entertain passers-by in Aberdeen with an illustrated talk on the theme 'Is a picture really worth 1000 words'? 

Part of the Six Cities Design Festival, the talk took place in The Monkey Puzzle Pavilion, a temporary structure made of plywood at the end of Aberdeen's Union St.  The panel also included Derek Stewart of Aberdeen brand consultancy The Big Picture and Professor Stuart Macdonald, head of school at Gray's School of Art. 

A cloudburst drove an audience of about 20 to take shelter in the pavilion, where they were treated to slides and stories about the power of words and images working together. The audience included a mother and toddler, two design students, a courting couple and three shopping grannies, one of whom received free design advice from George about her new business. Once again, 26 reaches the parts etc...

reviewed by Dan Radley

Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?

 Well, no. But we did hold a rather splendid gathering in the bowels of Shakespeare’s Globe to celebrate the publication of ‘The Bard & Co: Shakespeare’s Role In Modern Business’ on 10 May. For the latest 26 book, each writer had been paired with a Shakespeare play and one of his company’s original twenty-six ‘Principall Actors’.

Appropriately, we stood like groundlings as Dominic Dromgoole, the Globe’s Artistic Director, introduced the evening’s performers. First up was Mark Griffiths warning against the ‘little Iago voices’ in our heads and the dangers of bedding our business contacts.

I suddenly panicked that my mobile phone had gone off. False alarm – it was just the sackbut players upstairs. But even their honking failed to unnerve the theatrical Lin Sagovsky, as she recalled a performance of Love’s Labour’s Lost complete with real rabbits.

The highlight of the evening was Stuart Delves as William Shakespeare, preparing for a politically-charged performance of Macbeth in front of the King. A hush of appreciation greeted the audacity and poetry of his piece.

To recreate this enjoyable launch event in the comfort of your own home, pour yourself a glass of wine immediately and listen to ye olde podcasts. Or better still, buy the book from Amazon.

reviewed by Rishi Dastidar

With a year-long jaunt coming to a close, and nearly all points of the Isle covered, what better place for all the differing, meandering byways of ‘Common Ground’ to meet but in Oxford? So after various journeys of unpredictable timing from Paddington, we arrived at the world headquarters of the globe-bestriding media megabrand that is the QI Club, to be greeted by visions of the what the perfect private members club is. Refreshments in hand. various 26-ers and curious QI-ers made their way in to hear five readings from Common Ground, that celebrated the breadth, width and diversity of the writers and landscapes in the book.

 John Simmons took us to Buckinghamshire, and the darkness of the cottage from where Milton illuminated paradise; Rob Williams recounted how he risked life and liver in researching Paul Abbot's early years in Burnley; Tim Rich raised eyebrows, smiles and laughter with his tall tales of hunting Belloc in Sussex pubs; and Sarah McCartney, clutching a battered but well-loved first edition, introduced us to FW Lister.

But it was John Mitchinson's reading, of his chapter about Alan Garner, that really brought home the theme of the book - that as writers, we are connected to the land around us, and draw inspiration from the environments we are in, and those we seek out. It was a fitting high point on which to then repair for dinner, drinks and more tales, before trains summoned us, to disperse us all, back across the country.   

reviewed by Rishi Dastidar Our intrepid reporter Rishi Dastidar does his best to remember what happened at the 26 Christmas Party 2006.

Take one less than cold December night, add one gloriously old school pub in the heart of London's Fitzrovia (complete with dangerously comfortable sofas), drizzle in some Christmas stickers, throw in some exquisite calligraphy on name labels, add free drinks to taste, simmer over a fiendishly tricky quiz on a medium heat, then stand back while licking the spoon seductively. A simple recipe for a fab Christmas party.

A basket of Lush goodies was awarded to the ‘team by the bar’ for deciphering the five convoluted pictograms, and uncovering the writers within the quickest; much news of Shakespeare and Common Ground was swapped; and much heartiness and merriness was had by all.   

reviewed by Justina Hart A look back at Rishi Dastidar’s Arts Council-sponsored Common Ground event, by Justina Hart.


We met, appropriately enough, in the Met Bar above Baker Street station on Saturday 2 December 2006, on the promise of a poignant but pointless journey to the end of the Metropolitan line and back, to celebrate Rishi Dastidar’s Common Ground chapter about Julian Barnes’s Metroland. This was also touted as an escape from the Christmas shopping we hadn’t yet done, and proved the perfect respite from doing something constructive of a Saturday afternoon.

After a kerfuffle about the price of tickets, we plonked in our Met line seats, where we were to remain for the next hour and a bit. We noticed that Sarah McCartney’s outfit blended perfectly with the magenta swirls of the décor, which seemed an excellent omen. Other passengers steered clear of our carriage, much to Rishi’s relief as he declaimed Betjeman’s ‘The Metropolitan Railway’ and ‘Harrow-on-The-Hill’ over the sound of arriving trains, human traffic and whooshing, clonking station noise.

Our tube started to chuff along the ancient line. With nowhere to go but the end of the line, we heard only Betjeman’s iambic pentameters in the rhythm of the train and were free to gaze on the passing scenery – leaping up to take in sights like the new Wembley Stadium. It brought back memories of school trips, where a mysterious sense of higher purpose filters down to the excitable schoolchildren: (fortunately, the badges marking us out as 26ers hadn’t arrived). London was soon replaced by a Betjemanesque landscape of ever larger mock-Tudor houses, fields and woods. Various of our number told anecdotes about periods of their lives measured out by different stops along the line, and the winter light shafted through the windows into our eyes, turning gold and red before it died.

Having changed at Chalfont & Latimer, the end of the line turned out to be a place called Chesham, replete with a beautiful toy town station. Bitterly cold, it was disappointing to have to walk rather than sit, but we were comforted by the low rooflines and amateur shop window displays, all remarkably reached by tube. Christmas had arrived in Chesham in the form of piped organ music and a faux-Victorian merry-go-round. We paid our two quid and climbed aboard the shiny horses and went round and round.

It was time for the serious bit. We found a bookshop boasting a café but the drinks actually lived next door in a shop which sold fruitcake, as well as all manner of sewing and knitting implements. Carrying our drinks and knitting needles back to the bookshop, we discovered its upstairs room – like a cosy local library – empty and perfectly suited to a reading. Rishi introduced us to Chesham, to his experience of the suburbs as a teen and how he’d discovered Barnes. He then read from his chapter and we bantered about how we had perceived London if we had grown up outside, and how we had perceived the metropolis if we had been born where it’s at.    

Our cockles warmed by the pace of plush suburban life, like reverse commuters, we nodded all the way back into town.

reviewed by Sarah McCartney Arriving early at Colchester's Arts Centre, we immediately suspected someone had pulled a fast one. The cabbie dropped us at a dark church and even darker churchyard on a cold, misty evening and we wondered if he hadn't liked the look of us. However, once the lights came on, the bar opened and the audience filed in, it turned out to be a brilliant venue, complete with stained-glass windows. Shame it wasn't available when Maniac Squat and The Cleaners from Venus kicked off their careers.

Tom's evening (part of the ongoing 'Common Ground' celebrations, sponsored by the Arts Council) brought back fans of the Squat and the Cleaners, plus a friendly bunch of young Goths – all shiny long hair, matt-black clothes and perfect make-up – who'd come to see Martin Newell, ex-Cleaners, poet, musician and storyteller.

Martin told stories about the music industry, which tasted like a big bite of lemon, determined at some point to offend everyone in the audience at least once. His final song on whisky and women was guaranteed to irritate at least 50% of those attending. His charm? His talent and the fact that he doesn't give a tinker's cuss. 

Giles Smith told us a tale he'd written for the occasion about how he got his first break in journalism (now his main stock in trade). It's not fair that he can be so funny and play the Postman Pat theme tune in the style of Count Basie. If you heard Tom Wilcox read the lyrics of Maniac Squat's greatest hit at The Globe, you'll want to hear it performed live by his new band, The Chavs. We'll get it up on the website, just as soon as we've mastered the technology. In the meantime, you can see it on Tom's MySpace. In honour of Woody Woodmansey, Tom's drummer who toured with Bowie for ten years during his wildest times, the band played ‘Jean Genie’.

The Londoners dragged themselves off to catch the last train back to Liverpool Street, hoping for a repeat performance somewhere within cab distance from their homes.

reviewed by Sarah McCartney

It was billed as a candlelit evening in Milton’s Cottage, the tiny bolt hole in Chalfont St Giles where he spent the years that the Great Plague infested London. In the end, it was fluorescent lights in the village hall over the road. Heath & Safety decreed that there were too many people for the cottage and that candles were definitely out in a tiny house which contains scripts that the British Library would love to own.

John explained what 26 is for, how the book came to be written, then read them his chapter during which the Friends of Milton’s Cottage nodded in amiable agreement.

As lovers of Milton, the audience were almost by definition lovers of writing. Many of them bought the book, were genuinely interested in reading about the other authors featured in Common Ground and may even splash out and join 26.

reviewed by Sarah McCartney The café at Falmouth's magnificent, modern Maritime Museum was filling up with tanned, greying women and men, with taut, toned muscles. They stood with their feet slightly apart as if they expected the ground to tilt at any moment. These were people who were clearly not at home on a floor that doesn’t sway with the waves, all waiting to hear what Penny Williams had to say about a hero of theirs, Bill Tilman, explorer, sailor and writer.

Most non-sailors haven’t a clue who Tilman was, what he did, and what he wrote. ‘Mischief Among The Penguins’ isn’t what you’d first imagine; it’s about his adventures in the Antarctic on board his boat, Mischief. In the Maritime Museum’s theatre, as part of Falmouth’s Literary Festival, Penny read her chapter, including the story of her encounter with him at the age of 10. She was then joined by one Bob Comley, who had answered a small ad for crew during his gap year, and ended up sailing with a legend.

Afterward, on Penny’s parents’ boat, the sailors sympathised when I said I had to catch a train back to London. “I love it,” I said. They just smiled, nodded and looked very sorry for me. “We’ve got a crew!” one announced. “What are we doing in harbour?” and they all started looking around them for a reason to get going. Every one of them had what Penny calls the ‘thousand mile stare’, a longing to get out to sea again.

Back at the Maritime Museum café, the older sailors who remembered Tilman drank tea, reminisced, and swapped stories until they got fed up with dry land and set off to do some more exploration of their own.

reviewed by Jim Davies To celebrate our third birthday, we held a shindig at the Truman Brewery in London’s Brick Lane. As 26ers met and mingled, they’d occasionally glance over their shoulders at the handsome typographic mural by Pentagram’s Domenic Lippa. This was made up of sayings with a twist provided by our own number. As our contribution to this year’s London Design Festival, each phrase incorporated the word ‘design’ to ingeniously subvert the original meaning – Dan Radley’s “The referee’s a designer” being a case in point. Click through here for a selection of images of the wall photographed by Jesse Simmons…

reviewed by Ezri Carlebach 26 held a special event with Dominic Dromgoole, Patrick Spottiswoode, Peter Kyle, Yolanda Vazquez and John Simmons at the Globe Theatre on 31 August 2006. The main purpose was to galvanise into action at least some of the twenty-eight 26 members who have each been linked with one of Shakespeare’s original company of actors and one of the thirty-seven plays (and, in John’s case, the Sonnets). The reason? 26’s current project, an investigation into the enduring influence of Shakespeare on business writing, and more broadly into the role of language itself in the business world.

Having read Will and Me: How Shakespeare Took Over My Life, I was intrigued to hear more about Dominic Dromgoole’s role as artistic director at the Globe. I loved his description of ‘Globeness’, that rare feeling of recreating an ancient experience and at the same time creating a totally new experience that characterises the Globe’s approach. While it borrows from ‘authentic’ (a problematic word but there isn’t the space here…) Elizabethan theatre the shape, the standing audience and other elements that contribute so much to the historic ambience, it adds the modern theatre sensibility and production values that provide a truly contemporary feel. It is, of course, a balancing act, and if you get it wrong the very architecture “tells you off”.

Yolanda Vazquez provided revealing anecdotes from the actor’s perspective, while Globe MD Peter Kyle and educational director Patrick Spottiswoode filled us in on some of the history, outreach work and future plans of the
theatre and its educational foundation.

We 26ers swapped stories about the plays with which we’ve been matched and some of the inevitable anxieties arising from so testing a task. Not to mention finding out something about Shakespeare’s company of whom there were, so appropriately, twenty-six. One thing is clear – they were all multi-skilled individuals with diverse business and professional interests. Now, there’s a thought…

What a ride. ‘From Here To Here’ was our most ambitious project to date, and has given 26 more profile and kudos than ever. The fantastic show at the London College of Communication has just come down, but the installation at Embankment station, featuring illustrated excerpts of writing from the book, will be in place until December. Check it out if you possibly can.

Here’s what people had to say about the project…

“The ‘From Here To Here’ project was a true example of creative collaboration at its best. It demonstrated exactly how creative Londoners pull together to showcase a variety of notions relating to one original theme, using not only creative writing and graphic design but video media, photography and sculpture. ‘From Here To Here’ was referred to as the highlight event for the London Design Festival 2005.”  Helen Horton Smith, London Design Festival.

“Congratulations on ’From Here To Here’. It is a wonderful piece of work and, speaking personally, I find it uplifting both in its concept and content.”  Peter Tollington, General Manager of the Circle Line.

“The Circle Line, that wonderful conundrum that goes nowhere and everywhere in central London, has been celebrated in a rather fantastic manner.”  Robert Elms, Radio London.

“Each writer, from shabby King’s Cross to workaholic Farringdon and posh Sloane Square, sees his or her scrap of the city through a different glass. There’s much variety and unevenness, but it adds up to an energetic celebration of my maddening, traffic-clogged, sooty, beloved city.”  Kate Saunders, The Times.

You can still take advantage of Cyan’s offer on ‘From Here To Here: Stories Inspired By London’s Circle Line’ and ‘26 Malts – Some Joy Ride’. If you buy the books from a bookshop, you’ll get a couple of coppers change from £28. If you buy them direct from Cyan, stating 26 members’ offer, you will get them for only £20 (inc p&p in the UK).

Please contact sales@cyanbooks.com to place your order. Or send your cheque to ‘Cyan Communications Limited’, 119 Wardour Street, London W1F 0UW.

reviewed by Sarah McCartney What should we get paid for our writing? Can we put a price on our words? Apart from pornography, what’s the best-paid type of writing? These questions and more were addressed at 26’s ‘Wordsworth’ event held at Interbrand on 26 October.

As a follow up, we agreed to run an online anonymous survey for writers and people who employ us; this will collect a stack of data about what we are paid and our attitudes towards payment; We’ll publish the url shortly so 26 members and other writers can join in. Shortly after that, we’ll publish the results.

We made our way up the magically suspended staircase which leads from Interbrand’s minimalist ground floor portal to the bright white branding capital of the world on the first floor. Someone had turned off the corridor lights and none of us could find the switch, but at the end of the hall was a room with people chatting and we think that all the visiting 26 members found their way there.

How would the British overcome our legendary reticence to discuss what our words are worth? (In public.) We did it in three different ways.

Sarah McCartney explained that the 26 events team had long been planning a ‘Wordsworth’ event, in order to get an idea of what is a fair price for what we charge and told tales of her own experience with clients from 11 years working as a freelance writer and running Little Max.

Richard Crabb from Start explained that his agency is unusual for a design company in that it employs in-house writers who are charged out to clients at the same rate as designers. He showed us examples of his agency’s work, using words intertwined with design to create some fabulous stuff which works better because of the teams’ synergy. His view – we asked him for a designer’s perspective – was that Start shows the value of words not only by paying writers the same as designers but by treating them as equal creative partners, not the people who fill in the gaps between the graphics.

Neil Fletcher from Tool Box Marketing talked in practical terms about how to negotiate rates and get paid on time. (At this point the rate of note-taking showed a definite increase amongst auduence members). Neil advised to be clear about rates from the minute we start talking to clients, to charge 50% at the start of the contract and never to feel guilty about chasing late payment; at that point it’s not their money, it’s ours.

Our Q&A session revealed that most of us charge different amounts to different clients. Sarah leans towards Karl Marx’s guidance, “From each according to his ability to each according to his needs,” but explained that this backfired when a small client expanded into an international organisation – and still pays her the same rates.

The big question, “What do we actually charge?” was answered something like this:

£500 a day for writing (negotiable according to the clients’ ability).
£700-£1000 a day for strategy work and consulting.

Tom Lynham only slightly flippantly suggested that 26 may be turning into the trade union for business writers.

reviewed by Martin Lee On 24 November, Faber & Faber kindly played host to a 26 event for a second time. It was nearly a year since we listened to Simon Armitage’s astonishing poetry reading in the same venue. Appropriate really, given that the evening was something of a masterclass on how to get published. If more inspiration were needed, it was surely provided by the knowledge that we were meeting in TS Eliot’s penthouse flat.

The format of the evening was that our three publishing guests spoke for about 15 to 20 minutes, followed by a question-and-answer session from 26 members. The three speakers provided a fascinating contrast. Hannah Griffiths from Faber is a fiction editor, but she’s also worked as an agent at Curtis Brown and a publicity department at Penguin, so her experience embraces the whole publishing process, from raw manuscript to the marketing campaign.

Martin Liu from Cyan offered the perspective from non-fiction and business publishing, and emphasised the need for budding authors in this category to have a clear eye on the eventual market for their books before setting out on writing. He also offered highly practical advice about the benefits of people with expert knowledge but not necessarily trained writing skills collaborating with ghost writers to complete their books.

The final speaker was Tony Lacey, the editorial director for fiction at Penguin, who spoke with great conviction for the primacy of the author’s own inspiration in the publishing process. He (and Hannah also) spoke of the way in which an editor would far rather receive a highly flawed but hugely ambitious book than a neat, nicely turned out but limited book.

All three speakers spoke with passion, humour and shared valuable insights into the dos – and especially the don’ts – of getting published. They also dealt with all our questions with candour and generosity. Personally speaking, I’m going to go back to my synopsis and expunge all reference to Nick Hornby…

reviewed by Anelia Schutte

John Simmons is a founder-director of 26, and widely regarded as the person who set the current tone for tone of voice. His three books have been described as ‘manifestos for every writer in business who wants to be a better writer’. So when Cyan Books decided to republish ‘We, Me, Them & It’ and ‘The Invisible Grail’ in a common format to 2004’s ‘Dark Angels’, it was only fitting that the launch of the trilogy should be the first 26 event of 2006.

Hosted by Elmwood at their swanky new offices in Soho, the evening kicked off with a spirited introduction by 26 co-founder Martin Hennessey. John then read extracts from his two republished books, including the revised preface to ‘The Invisible Grail’, which seemed to sum up his overall message.

“My concern is unusual. Of course, like any author, I want to find readers. But my overriding concern is to find writers. I want people out there – you, dear readers – to read this book but then, more importantly, to think “yes, I can now be a better writer because I want to be”.

“My quarrel with books like those by Lynne Truss and John Humphrys, proudly proclaiming a zero-tolerance approach to ‘bad English’ and bad grammar, is that they do not encourage people to write. They inhibit, they instil fear and they undermine confidence; obsession with ‘correctness’ works against the constant evolution that has been the greatest strength of English as a language. Dullness, particularly when enforced by pedantry, is the subtlest enemy of effective communication in business. Look at the examples around you and yawn. Playfulness with language sometimes involves breaking the ‘rules’ of grammar, and I want to instil a sense of fun not fear. If people enjoy writing more, they will get better at it. So, please, read on. And then, please, write on.”

He also put the books in the context of what has happened since they were first published – notably the rapid evolution of 26, and its aim to draw attention to the neglected role of language in business.

With drinks, canapés and delightful waiting staff provided by The Writer, the evening was a suitable celebration of John’s work. If you didn’t own his three books already, you probably would have by the end of the night. Cyan publisher Martin Liu’s eight-year-old daughter, salesperson extraordinaire, would have seen to that.

reviewed by Sarah McCartney Paul Burke should start the ‘Shut Up and Get On With It School of Writing’. He got into advertising from school after telephoning Abbott Mead Vickers and asking to speak to Mr Abbott about a job as a writer. He got a job as a van driver and took it from there. Nobody told him that you weren’t supposed to do it like that.

At the October Gallery, Paul gave the 26 audience his views on writing radio ads and told us about how he got started as a novelist. Those of us who had braved the hailstorms (and decided against watching The Arsenal against Real Madrid) got a generous helping of Paul's passionate opinions and priceless advice. He reckons that the sense of timing you get writing for radio helps to make your fiction writing flow. In Mr. Burke’s case it has also given him a brilliant comic delivery. At school in London, one of his teachers told him, “Words are like pound notes, boy. Don't waste them”. So he doesn’t. (Or not when he's only got 30 seconds into which they all have to fit.)

We heard some excellent radio ads, some bad ones and some excruciating ones. We learned that if you want more creative freedom to write for radio you should work in the US and Australia, definitely not the UK.

Nobody told Paul that you don't just sit down and write a novel either. So he did. He bumped into an agent who got him a two book deal so he had to write another one. He also told us how he earned enough money to buy a Ford Capri while he was still at school but if you weren't there and you want to know how he did it, you're going to have to read his novel, ‘Untorn Tickets’ (ISBN 0340826150).