Thomas E. Weber is the Editor of SmartMoney.com and a veteran business and technology journalist. A former Wall Street Journal senior editor and bureau chief, he created the paper’s first column devoted to the Internet. Those with short attention spans can follow him on Twitter @tweber, or email tweber@smartmoney.com .
When’s the last time you did only one thing at a time?
If you’re reading this—particularly if you’re in the news or content business—there’s a good chance you’ll have trouble answering that question. Technology has long been on a relentless march to “help” us do more things at once. Content is no exception. From TV news screens packed with crawls and overlays to online news, where that newspaper web site is apt to be one of umpteen browser tabs open at once, we’re all juggling ever-more threads of information simultaneously.
But one new technology is taking consumers in the opposite direction, and I’ve found it has unexpectedly helped me reclaim control of my attention span. It’s the Kindle. Unlike most digital devices, Amazon.com’s e-reader makes it difficult to multitask.
Much has been made already of the Kindle’s significance for publishers. By creating a payment infrastructure for digital reading matter, the Kindle is helping prod many to reconsider charging for their wares instead of relying on advertising revenue. Less discussed has been the Kindle’s tendency toward unitasking—but it’s clearly part of the device’s appeal, and it, too, offers lessons for publishers.
Here’s why. The problem right now isn’t just figuring out what type of content people will pay for. An overlooked part of the puzzle—one that’s finally beginning to get more attention—is what type of environment will foster that willingness to pay. And an environment that helps overloaded infovores regain their concentration could have appeal.
Remember when charging $2 for a cup of coffee sounded wacky? When Starbucks arrived in cities across the U.S., it didn’t just bring a better (to some) cup of joe. It also created an environment intended to increase coffee enjoyment—bringing comfy chairs and room to sit. In most of my local Starbucks, those chairs have been replaced by less comfortable, more efficient versions—but the price point of coffee has been moved higher forever.
In digital content, the equivalent of a comfy chair has been difficult to find. The web has been the driving technology. And much like the frog in hot water, we’ve been able to overlook how chaotic the experience can be. “Tabbed” browsing was a boon for multitaskers, but it encourages users to flit back and forth among windows. And when reading news on the web, how often does your email inbox interrupt with its chime?
Few would question that all this multitasking has its upsides. We get more done, we’re more connected and we’re exposed to more sources of information. But we also confront each day how it’s pushing our attention spans to the limit. On top of it all, social networking now encourages us to monitor Facebook updates and Twitter tweets from dozens or even hundreds of sources.
As publishers moved online over the years, they have embraced this, understandably. Scrolling through an online newspaper or magazine can be like strolling down a state-fair midway, with dozens of options bleating for attention. We’ve accepted information overload as the price we pay for all the other benefits of interactive content.
But there are costs. Amid so many choices, it’s easy for high-value information to be diminished, reduced to just one more electronic input. And as psychologist Barry Schwartz outlined in “The Paradox of Choice,” sometimes too many options at once can overwhelm the consumer, leading to anxiety.
That’s why the Kindle experience stands in such great contrast. When my Kindle arrived from Amazon (NSDQ: AMZN) earlier this year, it felt at first like a severely crippled computer. After all, it has a display screen, a keyboard—even a wireless connection and a web browser of sorts. But every time I tried to indulge my digital-media-trained attention span, pausing in the middle of a book or article to check baseball scores or skim a few blogs, the experience was too cumbersome to enjoy.
Over a few weeks, I rediscovered my ability to simply read the book or article I had punched up in the first place. (Just like—gasp!—old-fashioned printed matter.) It’s particularly enjoyable when reading a newspaper or magazine—enough so that I’ve been routinely purchasing some of these publications when I could have grabbed my laptop and read them for free on the web. In effect, I’m paying for the lack of distraction.
To be sure, there are plenty of people who can’t get enough of multitasking. But I suspect many also crave some help narrowing their focus. (A telling sign: If you haven’t seen it, check out WriteRoom, one of a handful of stripped-down word processors designed to be distraction free.)
What can publishers do to tap that craving? Future tablet-style devices will probably include more distractions, not fewer. But one possibility is to exploit custom environments more whenever possible. Apps on the iPhone, for instance, can suck users deeper into a publisher’s content—phones aren’t yet at a PC level of multitasking.
Another is to reevaluate web designs and test some simplified presentations that avoid distractions. More generally, publishers should be aware when they’re fostering a divided attention span and overwhelming readers with choices. Give readers some comfy chairs—maybe they’ll stick around for a while and spend.
When’s the last time you did only one thing at a time?
If you’re reading this—particularly if you’re in the news or content business—there’s a good chance you’ll have trouble answering that question. Technology has long been on a relentless march to “help” us do more things at once. Content is no exception. From TV news screens packed with crawls and overlays to online news, where that newspaper web site is apt to be one of umpteen browser tabs open at once, we’re all juggling ever-more threads of information simultaneously.
But one new technology is taking consumers in the opposite direction, and I’ve found it has unexpectedly helped me reclaim control of my attention span. It’s the Kindle. Unlike most digital devices, Amazon.com’s e-reader makes it difficult to multitask.
Much has been made already of the Kindle’s significance for publishers. By creating a payment infrastructure for digital reading matter, the Kindle is helping prod many to reconsider charging for their wares instead of relying on advertising revenue. Less discussed has been the Kindle’s tendency toward unitasking—but it’s clearly part of the device’s appeal, and it, too, offers lessons for publishers.
Here’s why. The problem right now isn’t just figuring out what type of content people will pay for. An overlooked part of the puzzle—one that’s finally beginning to get more attention—is what type of environment will foster that willingness to pay. And an environment that helps overloaded infovores regain their concentration could have appeal.
Remember when charging $2 for a cup of coffee sounded wacky? When Starbucks arrived in cities across the U.S., it didn’t just bring a better (to some) cup of joe. It also created an environment intended to increase coffee enjoyment—bringing comfy chairs and room to sit. In most of my local Starbucks, those chairs have been replaced by less comfortable, more efficient versions—but the price point of coffee has been moved higher forever.
In digital content, the equivalent of a comfy chair has been difficult to find. The web has been the driving technology. And much like the frog in hot water, we’ve been able to overlook how chaotic the experience can be. “Tabbed” browsing was a boon for multitaskers, but it encourages users to flit back and forth among windows. And when reading news on the web, how often does your email inbox interrupt with its chime?
Few would question that all this multitasking has its upsides. We get more done, we’re more connected and we’re exposed to more sources of information. But we also confront each day how it’s pushing our attention spans to the limit. On top of it all, social networking now encourages us to monitor Facebook updates and Twitter tweets from dozens or even hundreds of sources.
As publishers moved online over the years, they have embraced this, understandably. Scrolling through an online newspaper or magazine can be like strolling down a state-fair midway, with dozens of options bleating for attention. We’ve accepted information overload as the price we pay for all the other benefits of interactive content.
But there are costs. Amid so many choices, it’s easy for high-value information to be diminished, reduced to just one more electronic input. And as psychologist Barry Schwartz outlined in “The Paradox of Choice,” sometimes too many options at once can overwhelm the consumer, leading to anxiety.
That’s why the Kindle experience stands in such great contrast. When my Kindle arrived from Amazon (NSDQ: AMZN) earlier this year, it felt at first like a severely crippled computer. After all, it has a display screen, a keyboard—even a wireless connection and a web browser of sorts. But every time I tried to indulge my digital-media-trained attention span, pausing in the middle of a book or article to check baseball scores or skim a few blogs, the experience was too cumbersome to enjoy.
Over a few weeks, I rediscovered my ability to simply read the book or article I had punched up in the first place. (Just like—gasp!—old-fashioned printed matter.) It’s particularly enjoyable when reading a newspaper or magazine—enough so that I’ve been routinely purchasing some of these publications when I could have grabbed my laptop and read them for free on the web. In effect, I’m paying for the lack of distraction.
To be sure, there are plenty of people who can’t get enough of multitasking. But I suspect many also crave some help narrowing their focus. (A telling sign: If you haven’t seen it, check out WriteRoom, one of a handful of stripped-down word processors designed to be distraction free.)
What can publishers do to tap that craving? Future tablet-style devices will probably include more distractions, not fewer. But one possibility is to exploit custom environments more whenever possible. Apps on the iPhone, for instance, can suck users deeper into a publisher’s content—phones aren’t yet at a PC level of multitasking.
Another is to reevaluate web designs and test some simplified presentations that avoid distractions. More generally, publishers should be aware when they’re fostering a divided attention span and overwhelming readers with choices. Give readers some comfy chairs—maybe they’ll stick around for a while and spend.
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