Why We Can't Focus Anymore: The Hidden Cost Of Our Attention Economy
How the attention economy trains us to rush, fragment thinking, and how to navigate it all...
What is the Attention Economy?
We’re living in it.
The attention economy is the idea that human attention is a scarce resource, and modern platforms compete aggressively to capture, hold, and monetize it.
In this system, our time, focus, and emotional energy are the product being sold, usually to advertisers, data brokers, or investors.
If you’re reading this, then I guess it’s working.
Key Takeaways
The attention economy treats your focus as the product, not the customer.
Algorithms reward speed and emotion, not depth and truth.
Slowing down isn’t weakness; it’s creative resistance.
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In practical terms, platforms are not neutral containers for content. They’re engineered environments designed to keep us all scrolling, clicking, reacting, and staying longer than we intend.
B. F. Skinner demonstrated that when rewards are unpredictable, behavior becomes more persistent. Slot machines use this. So do social feeds. This is intentional persuasive design.
It’s all very psychological, this social media stuff. Who knew sharing cats would become addictive? Every cat owner, but I digress…
A widely cited early definition comes from economist Herbert A. Simon, who noted that “a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.” That observation has only intensified in this digital and hard tech (technically, we’re now in our fourth industrial revolution).
What This Means in Plain Terms:
There is more content than any human can consume. So the real competition is not quality, talent, or even accuracy. It is who can grab and keep attention the longest.
If you’re feeling scattered, you’re not failing. You’re human in a system that profits from distraction. Choosing even a few moments of slowness is a way to reclaim our time.
How the Attention Economy Works
Most large platforms operate on a similar model:
They reward content that elicits strong emotional responses quickly.
They prioritize volume, novelty, and frequency.
They measure success through clicks, watch time, and engagement, not depth or understanding.
They train both creators and audiences to expect constant stimulation.
This creates a feedback loop. Creators adapt to what gets rewarded. Audiences adapt to what they are shown. Over time, attention becomes fragmented, impatient, and easily redirected.
When did we all agree to this? Read this eye-opening article from Angelo Alfano FNP, PMHNP
How This Affects Writers and Creators
1. Pressure to Perform Instead of Create
Writers often feel pushed to produce content that is:
Shorter than we want.
Louder than we feel comfortable with.
Faster than is sustainable.
We see this when thoughtful essays get less traction than hot takes, or when nuanced work is labeled “too long” even when it is deeply valuable. Or when my cat, Pip, gets thousands of likes and comments (okay, maybe a slight exaggeration), yet my posts may receive only a few.
I accept that. Pip is, well, Pip. Platforms teach us a lesson, even if we may not agree with it. (Look at the face, though.)
2. Algorithms Shape Creative Choices
In the attention economy, algorithms function like invisible editors. They influence:
What topics feel “worth” writing about.
How headlines are framed.
Whether creators feel safe slowing down.
This can subtly erode creative autonomy. Writers may begin asking, “Will this perform?” before asking, “Is this true or meaningful?”
If that sounds familiar, step away from the keyboard and go touch grass. No, seriously. 🌱
3. Burnout Becomes Structural, Not Personal
Burnout is often framed as an individual failure to manage time or emotions, which is absolutely not the case for most of us. In reality, the attention economy rewards overproduction and constant availability. It’s not sustainable.
For writers and creators, this can show up as:
Anxiety around posting frequency.
Guilt when taking breaks.
A sense that silence equals disappearance.
Constantly checking notifications and analytics. I see you. 👀
The system is not built for rest, reflection, or recovery, even though those are essential for good writing and mental health, and ironically, are often the kind of content we may be consuming (e.g., online meditations, articles on grounding, etc.).
Tip: Turn off all notifications (with emergency exceptions, of course). They’ll still be there whenever you log in. The constant beeps and buzzing spike our anxiety.
4. Audience Relationships Get Distorted
In an attention-driven model, audiences are treated as metrics rather than people. This can lead to:
Chasing virality instead of trust.
Prioritizing reach over resonance.
Feeling disconnected from the readers who actually care.
Substack/newsletters complicates this in a good way. Email-based delivery shifts the relationship from performance to presence. A smaller, attentive audience can be more valuable than a large, distracted one.
It feels a lot more personal.
Resources and Further Reading
Wikipedia overview of the concept, attention economy
Herbert A. Simon’s foundational ideas (summary and context)
The Center for Humane Technology on attention, design, and harm.
Tristan Harris’s TED Talk on attention and persuasion.
Substack’s own philosophy on writer-reader relationships.
A Grounded Take for All Writers and Creators
I don’t have all the answers to how to combat the tsunami of info we are subjected to daily, often without our attention or knowledge, so I’m thinking out loud about these real worries.
But I’m tired of worrying, so let’s do this:
Before you close this tab to scroll like you mean it, pause for a moment.
Put both feet on the floor. Take one slow breath in through your nose, and let it out longer than you took it in. Notice where you’re sitting. Notice your shoulders. Let them drop.
You don’t need to catch up on anything right now. Breathe. I’m not asking you to meditate or sit in an awkward position with a candle, saying "ommm" (though feel free).
Now, take another breath and sigh loudly (or silently if you’re in public, because weird). Repeat five times, or just ignore me and keep scrolling. You do you.
Focus returns in small, ordinary ways. Reading one thing all the way through. Writing a paragraph without checking notifications. Allowing a thought to finish before replacing it with the next one.
Slow doesn’t mean less serious or less intentional. It means being more present, which, in this constant noise, is an extraordinary act of self-care.
The attention economy is not a moral failing on our part, but a system with specific incentives that often conflict with good writing, thoughtful creativity, and mental health.
When deciding where to be based on your own terms: choose slower platforms, longer formats, and more intentional relationships is not opting out of reality. It’s us choosing a different definition of success.
You are allowed to write like a human instead of a slot machine.
A Note of Thanks
I made it onto a list! I’m thrilled. I’ve been writing here for 2.5 years, and this is the first time I’ve made it onto Education (they list only the top 100). I appreciate every single reader. Thank you for the wonderful support. 🙏
What I appreciate here is the naming of attention as engineered environment rather than personal weakness.
I’ve been circling a related question -- what happens when saturation doesn’t just fragment focus, but actively prevents accumulation. Fragmentation is exhausting. But overwhelm
can also be strategic.
Thank you for this, Rachel. Great read.
This is definitely a good reminder! I am lucky to be working with a mentor that makes mind set and health a top priority. (I don't have time to chase algos. I'm writing and reading. haha)