The Art of Capturing Attention

Photo by Drew Dizzy Graham on Unsplash

I am one of many subscribers to Emma Gannon’s Substack The Hyphen.

She does a round up every other Sunday with interesting links, directing her readers to a variety of discussions, essays, posts, books, programs etc. Today, I clicked on the Ted Talk with Substack’s Hamish.McKenzie – I’m sure many of you have watched it but just in case here’s the link. It’s worth a watch.

Hamish McKenzie: This is what the future of media looks like | TED Talk

Hamish goes over the changes in media and where he thinks we are now. He discusses the concept of a media garden.

As I was drinking coffee and catching up on my lovely Substack reading, I kept going back to this Ted Talk and experiencing some real aha moments. As my thoughts spun, I decided to create a post on my reactions and ponderings on the topic of attention in the media landscape.

Especially with our books.

I’ve been unhappy with social media for a while. It’s important I’m there for my work and connecting with my audience, but I feel like a turtle many times, wanting to shrink back into my shell and keep the quiet peace. There’s so much noise everywhere. It’s like going to a rock concert and experiencing hours of loud ringing in my ears from the aftermath. Except this concert goes on and on.

Because the name of the game seems to be grabbing someone’s attention.

Whether it’s Booktok or ads or Reelz or YouTube shorts – we are told over and over that we have few seconds to capture another person’s attention. If we don’t, they will not buy our book. They will not read our book. They will not purchase our class. They will not read our newsletters. They will not care, and therefore, we will fail to sell ourselves and our products.

God, that’s a lot of pressure to consistently perform.

Authors create under a spell of fear, chasing authenticity and using big words to pretend we know how to connect in order to properly brand ourselves. I am guilty of going down the portal – hell, I TEACH this concept in many of my workshops for a damn good reason. After all, every article tells me over and over to use ACTION, from our videos to our first page, first chapter, ad headlines, captions, etc.

We discuss authenticity and trust, throwing these words around, but what does it really mean if we dive deeper? What really captures our long-term attention?

I believe it’s connection. A feeling of trust from a creator who seems real. Receiving value without being sold value.

I’m about to say a bold statement.

I think we are wrong to cater to one’s consistent inattention in the world. To produce faster, to film quicker, to speed up everything with hook lines and clickbait and be told there is one best way in this current culture to be noticed.

What’s that one way? Make your content pop and hit hard. Be on brand. Make someone NEED to click the damn button to buy or read or watch.

This is why so many of us hate going online. We are heartbroken. Spiritually ill from the fakeness disguised as authenticity. We crave quiet and soft. We want deep meaning and slow thoughts. We need a damn break from the speed of everything exploding around us.

We don’t need more of it.

It’s another reason Substack has done so well – connecting one on one to individual artists and writers is a slower, more meaningful process than scrolling and clicking on endless videos and ads for quick hits.

Today, I was thinking about one of my books I wrote years ago called, All Roads Lead to You. I specifically remember doing a podcast with another author to celebrate the release. She asked me to read the first few pages of my first chapter for listeners. After I read it, I realized my first chapter was not an example of what I’d normally teach a new writer to do. It didn’t grab attention. It didn’t begin with action or a hook or create tension that would force a reader to need more. It didn’t show the hero and heroine together and immediately get romance on the page. I would not read this if I was trying to show another writer the best way to open a first chapter.

The scene was quiet. My heroine woke up early, brewed coffee, and sat with her many rescue animals, pondering her thoughts, gazing at the sunset. She sensed something was coming but didn’t know what it was. That’s it.

When I finished reading, I actually apologized to the author. I said, “I’m sorry – that was a much slower beginning than I remembered.” I was sheepish. A bit embarrassed. Yes, it was written well, but I doubted any new readers would sit up and go to buy my book immediately.

Her response was a game changer. “No, I actually loved it. The scene was quiet; it gave me time to ponder your character and warm up to the story.. I pictured my own self, sipping coffee, petting my cat, ready for another day and what was to come.”

I was so grateful. But it was much later I wondered why I’d felt the need to apologize for writing something slow and gentle. When had we lost the art of just letting things slowly unfold? Of taking our eighteenth slow breath – not our first? Or second?

I began this Substack because I simply wanted to write more posts where I can be thoughtful, give writers a nice place to ponder, and share my world. My stories. How I see life. It has nothing to do with not wanting to make a profit with your work, but how you show up.

What if that same subscriber who sees your posts regularly, without pressure or force, organically drops in to read your work? What if your fans come in a slow trickle rather than a flood, and stay because they really want to be there?

I like the image of that world. Especially as I age, in both years and my career, and find I don’t want to push endless books out anymore without intentional thought.

I think the world needs more content that moves in languid, relaxed steps. No getting to the action right away. No intense shockers to force people to find out what happens next. I still love a good thriller or a book full of plot twists. But we don’t need them all the time. There is space, especially now, for a gentle unfurling of content in order to create connection, and cement attention.

Maybe the world needs more opening chapters that offer us a seat, a cup of coffee, a cozy blanket, and an animal to pet. Maybe we need to be challenged in the exact opposite way – to WAIT and see what happens. What does that space look like in author branding and our books?

Yes, maybe less money? Less sales? Less curious eyeballs on our work? But still, this need beats within me, and I think I will begin to chase it. See how it unfolds in my stories and media content and articles. Explore with childlike curiosity. Walk instead of run.

I will go slowly and see.