This month I met with one of 26’s newest members (and a writer for our AI project), Julian Gorham – running through everything from Parker pens and Perivale, to Frank Sinatra, and to his pamphlet, 10 Poems, freshly published by our friends at Paekakariki Press.
Tell us a bit about yourself – where are you from and what do you do?
A copywriter and poet, I was born in Perivale, London, in 1961. I was 6 weeks early and weighed just over 3lbs. I’ve put on a bit since then. My mother said I was fed using the ink reservoir of a Parker pen. If so, a pen sustained me remarkably early on. In truth, it took me time to get there…
I grew up in Sussex. After university, I went to the National Broadcasting School in London hoping to be a journalist on independent radio, alongside Martha Kearney and others. They succeeded. I failed. I got into advertising as a Junior Account Executive. I was crap. One day, I nicked a creative brief off someone’s desk (paper has its advantages). I wrote some ads for Rochas Perfumes and the next week they were on the front page of the Daily Mail. There was a row in the creative department, there have been many since. But I had my start.
I’ve been fortunate to have worked for different kinds of agency – and, broadly, in two cultures. In advertising, writers and art directors gathered each Friday to view the week’s output, the work always met with a stony silence. In branding, even in client presentations, members of your own team would shout “Your source?” for any claim you made. That was the 80s and 90s and 00s. Deliberately unsupportive cultures, but character forming. And we laughed (and drank) a lot.
Where did your love of words come from?
My mother taught me to read before I was school age. My father was a copywriter in London in the 60s; posters for Hammer Films, ads for Lotus cars (not being a driver himself, he zipped round the country at lunatic speeds with Colin Chapman at the wheel). The ‘now so bad they’re good’ Brentford Nylons commercials starring DJ Alan ‘Fluff’ Freeman were also his.
I’m not a believer, as the Monkees didn’t say. But the Methodist Church gave me Wesley, school and university gave me Donne, Herbert, Manly Hopkins and Heaney. Also, what I call the ‘Thomas brothers’ – Edward, RS and Dylan (did you know his son Llewellyn worked in advertising at J Walter Thompson?). Larkin remains a favourite. A copywriter’s copywriter (Tim Rich agrees). He loved jazz – was jazz critic at the Telegraph – and championed the poetry of Christina Rossetti.
My favourite novelists? Mary Shelley, Dickens, Flaubert, Balzac and Martin Amis.
My mother-in-law Iris Grender is a published children’s author (The 1970s ‘Did I Ever Tell You?’ series, Hutchinson). My brother Carl is a comedy scriptwriter (Just a Gigolo, Stressed Eric) and author (The Owl at the Window). I have written ads – and for brands – and been involved in lots of naming including Cadbury’s Heroes, Nectar, a bank called Egg, and Thickhead, the drink that almost killed the alcopops sector single-handed. I helped to brand Scotland and Shetland and Britain – and Namibia. I prefer a 96-sheet poster to a small rectangle on a computer screen. We used to launch our TV commercials by showing them in cinemas for goodness’ sake.
So, words all the way. Just as well. I really can’t do anything else.
What made you join 26? And how long have you been a member?
I’ve known members of 26 for a long time, but only got round to joining last year. My excuse is that writers are solitary oddballs which kind of goes with knowing how to use an apostrophe properly and having too many conversations going on in your own head – including about where to put an apostrophe. One of the best copywriters I worked with died last year. Alan Page, Creative Director of a fashionable-at-the-time ad agency called Yellowhammer was the kindest, crossest man I ever met.
He wrote copy that had it all. Imagination, rhythm, space. Reasons to believe were lined up like machine gun bullets. He’d have liked the idea of 26, but I am not sure he’d have joined it.
Have you been involved in any 26 projects?
One so far. Those who know me will find it amusing that I tackled 26 Meets AI ‘For instance, it is nearly dawn…’ They won’t be surprised to learn it’s the first time I’ve used Chat GPT. Thanks to Alastair Creamer and others for their encouragement – a refreshing contrast to my time in agencies. The result is on the 26 website.
What’s your ideal scenario for writing?
In my small study. A few things on my desk and walls. A picture of my great uncle, the jazz composer and pianist Sir George Shearing with his niece, my late mother. My father’s RAF dogtags hanging off a wall. The peace, not the War (Lancaster bomber, the Berlin Airlift since you ask.) Good coffee in the morning. No music – it always wins my neurons. Nothing but the steady tick of a clock on the wall. The noises are in my head as I say. And then write and rewrite until it’s right. 5.30am is great. After 5pm is pointless. And Pointless (not that I watch it).
We have a dog. A cockapoo called Sidney (after Bechet, Poitier, Greenstreet, Barrett). I shout at it a lot. I’ve learned that writing drunk can often feel like a good idea, but always gets bad results. I feel a bit like that about writing collaboratively. Open-plan offices are not for writers like me. Good ideas don’t come from workshops (though God knows I’ve run enough of them). Ideas come from bright people disagreeing fiercely. Great minds don’t think alike.
What are you working on at the moment?
I have just published my first pamphlet of poetry, imaginatively titled ’10 Poems’. (A pen and ink illustration by my late father Max is on the cover). It has been printed by Paekarakiri Press. A second, ‘Ten Poems Too’ will be out later this year, illustrated by Nelly Dimitranova, a winner of the Hugh Casson Drawing Prize. I think of poetry as drumming and music. No way of knowing if that’s anything to do with the Sir George Shearing connection.
Could you tell us about a piece of writing you’re particularly proud of?
The pamphlet I’ve just published. Plus, I was best man at my brother Carl’s wedding. The comedian Tony Slattery, who was also there, told me my best man’s speech was the funniest he’d heard. I used to write a lot of radio commercials which means people like Steve Coogan and Alexei Sayle have performed my words. Alan Page once told me he wished he’d written an ad I’d done. People seem to like my poetry. There’s nothing like positive feedback from people you rate.
Where do you get your inspiration?
For me, inspiration comes from using all your senses and noticing the world – particularly the small things. A change in temperature, the look or the sound of a word, overheard conversations on the Tube or bus or on the radio. It’s about making fresh connections between things. Art and music are also inspiring, but distracting while trying to write. The Great American Songbook is practically all poetry. There’s a reason Frank Sinatra sings lyrics as if he’s saying them. Listen to ‘One for my Baby’. ‘You’d never know it, but buddy I’m a kind of poet.’