Living in the Harsh Real World vs. Escaping to a Dreamy Fictional One From Keith Raffel

Short bio:

Keith Raffel’s five acclaimed thrillers draw on his own experiences in Washington’s corridors of powers, Silicon Valley’s engineering labs, and university classrooms. The New York Times has praised his work as “worthy of a Steve Jobs keynote presentation.” Since 2023, Keith has written The Raffel Ticket, a syndicated column read in newspapers and on websites across the United States.

Author photo:

Intro:

Jim Ziskin is taking a well-deserved rest this holiday week. As a high school teacher, Jim is accustomed to turning over sacred responsibilities to questionable substitutes. This week, you’ll be hearing from Keith Raffel, who reminds Jim of the greatest substitute teacher of them all, Miss Viola P. Swamp of Harry Allard’s Miss Nelson Is Missing. 

 

Living in the Harsh Real World vs. Escaping to a Dreamy Fictional One

by Keith Raffel

When it comes to professional writing, I’ve always thought of myself as a crime novelist. The manuscript of my sixth thriller is in the hands of my literary agent.

My frenemy best buddy Jim Ziskin must think of me as a crime writer, too. Why else would he have invited me to fill in for him here in “Criminal Minds”?

And yet, when it comes to writing nowadays, I find my loyalties divided.

 Recently, I stopped dead at this sentence in Susan Orlean’s marvelous memoir Joyride: “Writers fall into two categories: There are those who have something they want to say to the world, and there are those who believe the world has something to tell them.”

Which am I?

As a crime novelist, I fall into category two. My stories start with questions, not answers. First and foremost is the question posed in Alfred Hitchcock’s greatest films: How does a regular person who’s swept up in deadly intrigue raise their game to become a hero? We’re not talking about a superhero like Spider-Man, Wonder Woman, or Superman. Think instead of everyday people like the advertising executive played by Cary Grant in North by Northwest, the high school student played by Teresa Wright in Shadow of a Doubt, or the photographer played by Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window.

Protagonists in my own books include a World War II veteran who must save the world from blowing itself up in 1962, a retired entrepreneur whose dead grandfather leaves him a message about the lost Ark of the Covenant, and a tech executive suspected of murdering a woman found in his own bed. From there, I go on with questions like:

·      What does loyalty between friends entail in a time of crisis?

·      What happens when technology outruns morality?

·      What is justice if truth is uncertain?

·      How should a patriot support their country when its government is up to no good?

I write crime fiction to discover, not announce, the answers to questions like these. Which was fine at the outset of my career as a novelist. I found the process of writing thrillers much like watching those Hitchcock films—an escape to fictional realms where justice (usually) triumphed.

But in the end, writing fiction just wasn't enough. Complete escape from IRL (real life) was impossible. I have children and grandchildren, and my wife and live on a college campus while school’s in session. Those members of Generation Z and Generation Alpha are launching themselves into a world where hunger, violence, poverty, authoritarianism, racism, antisemitism, misogyny, and unfairness flourish.

So, I started writing about the real world in occasional opinion pieces for newspapers, magazines, blogs, and websites. I had something to say to the world about gun deaths, the wisdom of women voters, rampant careerism among students, Trump's pro-Russian past, and the importance of studying the humanities. That urge to express my views grew into a compulsion. So, I bundled up some articles and sent them to Creators Syndicate. To my amazement in 2023, the team there offered me a nationally-syndicated weekly column that would be carried in newspapers and news sites around the country.

Next step? Well, this week, Creators is coming out with a collection of a hundred-plus of the essays I’ve written in the past two years.

Jim Ziskin generously volunteered to use his talents in designing the cover.

Luckily, Unfortunately, the publisher nixed Jim’s masterwork. So, it was literally back to the drawing board where Creators came up with this kick-ass alternative for The Raffel Ticket: Betting on America.

 

So far so good. And my thriller writing background seems to have paid off with early readers like Congressman Jamie Raskin, onetime law professor and floor manager for the second impeachment of Donald Trump. He said, “Keith Raffel’s experience writing thrillers has prepared him to excel as a columnist lighting up the sky with intellectual fireworks on our stranger-than-fiction politics.” I knew Andrew Heyward, former president of CBS News, was a fan of my thrillers, but I myself was thrilled when he said: “This book is your ‘Raffel ticket’ to smart, fresh, provocative and often funny takes on our times by one of my favorite writers.”

The great Lee Child didn’t mention my background as a thriller writer, but I’m sure it provided a foundation for his terrific blurb: “Keith Raffel is someone I really pay attention to — he doesn't always change my mind, but he always makes me think. We need more like him.” Count me gobsmacked.

Boston University Professor Susan Samuelson wrote, “Raffel is one of the rare opinion writers who genuinely has something new to say.” I’d guess anything distinctive in my columns can be attributed to writing in my thrillers about right versus wrong, cowardice versus courage, and troubled heroes versus triumphant villains.

It’s Thanksgiving season, and I consider myself so fortunate to live in this nation which as Lincoln reminds us, was “conceived in liberty” and “dedicated to the proposition” that all are “created equal.” And like him, I believe it is up to each of us to ensure that “government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” Even if—as it so often seems—I’m spitting in the wind, I had to spend more time in this world and at least attempt to help repair it. What I write in The Raffel Ticket reflects that urgency.

But in conclusion, it’s important to tell you I still find time to escape to the fictional worlds of writing and reading crime fiction.

Happy holidays to you all,

Keith

P.S. Jim, thanks much for giving me the chance to write for “Criminal Minds.”

Note: You can follow Keith on the web at keithraffel.com or on instagram @keithraffelwrites. The Raffel Ticket: Betting on America is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Google Books, Apple Books, and bookstores everywhere.

Giving Thanks (and doggie treats) by Eric beetner

 In honor of Thanksgiving (in the US), share something you're grateful for. Specifically, something that helps you do your work as a writer more effectively, efficiently, or joyfully.

It might sound odd or just something I want to be true, but I write better with a dog at my feet. My first 9 novels were written with my dog, Maybel, snoring gently by my side. After she passed, I worried I would’t be able to write anymore. Had she been my muse?

I have three dogs now, and one or more sits with me nearly every night when I write. They take turns, they trade spots, they jockey for space in the donut-shaped dog bed on the floor next to my desk, but they are there.

They offer a quiet comfort while I’m writing, which I do in silence. The lighting in my office isn’t harsh or too bright. I often burn a candle with a vanilla scent. I like to think it’s a pleasant place for them to be. 

All three dogs are rescues and each one came from an increasingly tragic backstory. Our spaniel mix was a street dog in Tijuana. Our pug was rescued off a meat train in China. Our French Bulldog was found roaming the streets of East L.A. with 80% of his hair missing and eye infections that threatened his sight. All three are happy, lazy and comfortable in their new home.

None of them know, of course, how much I rely on them to aid in my writing. None of them were a model on which to base Chester, the canine character in my Carter McCoy series. That dog has become the character I’ve gotten the most positive response about from readers across all 30+ of my books. He’s number one.

None of them snore too loudly, which is good. Nobody has bad gas. 

They also aren’t trained and can’t really do tricks or anything. But I’ll take a faithful companion who shares their company with me when I need it over a performing sideshow act any day. 

I know they would prefer it if I could reconfigure my desk and chair setup so they could sit on my lap while I type, but that makes my word count hard to hit when I’m reaching over piles of fur to reach the keys.

They’ll have to settle for a bed on the floor, the occasional treat, and my gratitude for their company. I’ll tell myself my work is better for their proximity to it. Even if it isn’t true, I want it to be. And they’re not going anywhere.

Delete the darlings and pass the gravy

In honor of Thanksgiving (in the US), here is a look at some of the little things that help us do our work as writers more effectively, efficiently, and joyfully every day.

by Dietrich

In Canada, Thanksgiving lands in October, so the ham and turkey are already fond memories up here. But cheers to my American friends! There are many things for which writers can be thankful, of course: the support of family, fellow writers, community, mentors, editors, publishers, booksellers, librarians and readers.

We are grateful for time and freedom, the daily opportunity to express new ideas. Then there are the tools of modern technology: desktops, laptops, search engines and writing software. The internet alone has saved countless hours that I once dedicated to scouring reference texts or trudging to my local library for research. It’s funny; I was just at a writer’s event where I explained Wite-Out and correcting ribbons to a young writer. I think she thought I was making it up.

And there are the many little things which get overlooked and don’t get their due.

I am grateful for the silent hero of my keyboard: the delete key. That single, merciful tap that lets me kill a sentence before it embarrasses itself, or me, in public. One keystroke and it’s gone. A few seconds of revision later, and a better line takes its place. That delete key has improved many of my early drafts by subtracting, allowing me to be wrong on the way to being right.

I am grateful for the public library’s Libby app that lets me borrow ebooks and audiobooks without ever leaving my desk. It is an entire library catalog that never closes. And what could be more important than having stacks of reading material that always influence and inspire?

For when I am not at my desk—say, when I am on a walk, in the shower, or just deciding between Cap’n Crunch or Lucky Charms at the grocery store—and a fully formed scene, character detail, or plot solution drops into my mind. This flash of inspiration, seemingly conjured from thin air, is pure magic and an invaluable reminder that the muse might show up anytime.

There is a unique satisfaction that comes when a character I created suddenly becomes real enough to push back and stops doing what I tell them and starts doing what they want. It often takes the scene or the entire story in a better, more organic direction.

I am thankful for when I find the exact mot juste after rummaging through the mental thesaurus for that perfect word, evocative adjective, precise verb, or perfectly clipped line of dialogue. It just clicks into place, and the writing rolls on.

The first time someone other than me reads my work can be nerve-wracking. When they respond with enthusiasm, genuine interest, or constructive insights, it’s a profound "whew" moment. It validates the many hours spent in solitude and confirms that the story has successfully reached its destination—the reader’s mind.

And finally, I am thankful for the drive that pushes me to sit down and start again on that blank page every single morning.

Happy Thanksgiving.

In Honor Of

 

In honor of Thanksgiving share something you're grateful for. Specifically, something that helps you do your work as a writer more effectively, efficiently, or joyfully. So many things I’m grateful for:

 • I’m grateful for the magic. The magic that seems to happen in every book, when I’m writing along, unsure of where the story is going, and suddenly the “magic” removes the clouds and exposes the plan.

It’s always a thrill. I’m working on a book now that has too many plotlines. I haven’t been able to figure out how all those disparate elements will come together. But rather than stop and force the issue, I just keep writing, trusting that the magic will happen. 

 Yesterday, I was walking to my car and I stopped cold. The thin thread I had been weaving seemed to expand right in front of me. I knew exactly what was going on. It explained so much. I have no idea why those things don’t pop up right away. Maybe it’s my brain—or wherever that magic lives—wanting to entertain me. But I know I have to trust that it will be there. 

 • I’m grateful for my hands. I’m a fast typist and have been ever since I taught myself touch-typing as a kid of ten, from a typing book my mother had lying around. Typing made money for me when I was working my way through college. I typed papers for upperclassmen my freshman year, in addition to typing my own papers. I even worked for a law professor one year…typing. For several months in 2016 my right hand was out of commission. My fifth book was typed—with my left hand only. I’m grateful to my hands. 

 • I’m grateful to my writers groups. I’ve been in a number of them, and in each one I learned art and craft that has made me into a better writer. A special shout-out to the group that author Susan Shea started years ago, with the idea that every member of the group would be fiercely focused on getting published. It worked for several of us. 

 And another nod to both the groups I’m currently part of. One, I’ve been in for thirty years. I’m the only crime writer in the group, but they are all great readers and I’ve learned so much from them. The other, I’m relatively new to, and already I have gotten invaluable feedback. For example, I was struggling with a character that I couldn’t quite inhabit, and one of the members of the group asked, “What do you admire about her?” It was the right question. 

 • I’m grateful to my agents—all three of them have taught me, supported me, helped with development, given me good advice. And they’ve been fun along the way. 

 • I’m grateful to the writing community in Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and International Thriller Writers, and the fellow-writers who love to sit down at a conference or a bookstore event or a party, or on-line and “dish.” The ones who want to trade stories about their publisher or their agent, or their beta readers. Who like to get deep into discussions about their struggles with the book they are working on, or their disappointments, or successes. AND who help promote each other's books.

 • I’m ridiculously grateful to my editors, from my first, Dan Mayer at Seventh Street Books, to my latest, Sara Porter, at Severn House. A good editor is golden. They are the ones who say, “Remember back on page 12 you mentioned the guy was a working for John Jones? Why on page 76 is he meeting John for the first time?” They tell you when something doesn’t make sense, and gently get you back on track when you drive into the weeds. 

 • In addition to the “main” editors, I’m extra grateful to so many behind-the scenes people in publishing: The copyeditors. Those are the ones who read my manuscript with eagle eyes, and say, “Hmm, this was in 1982 and you refer to a Motel 6. Was Motel 6 in Texas in 1982?” (Turns out the answer to that one was no, not until a few years later). They want to know if you really meant “that word,” or another one. And the cover designers (I love my covers!) And the publicists. 

 • And finally, I’m grateful to readers, who  tell me how much they love my books, who email me or text me or message me their warm delight. I’m grateful for those who take the time to write a review, and to those who tell their friends. 

 Happy Thanksgiving! 

 And don’t forget, December 2, one week from today, Samuel Craddock # 12 comes out. Lucky #12:

Pumpkin Spice Gratitude - by Matthew Greene

In honor of Thanksgiving (in the US), share something you're grateful for. Specifically, something that helps you do your work as a writer more effectively, efficiently, or joyfully.

I'll be honest, it was quite lovely brainstorming for this post. Rarely do I take the time to sit down and make one of those "gratitude lists" that therapists and other enlightened folks are always talking about. I found my smile growing wider and wider the more I scribbled down...

On the list: new notebooks, writing playlists, good books, research hours, train trips, red wine, Scrivener, a supportive community, incentive snacks, my laptop, and the feeling that I have a process that works...most of the time.

But one little word on the list tuck in my brain, warming me up with fond memories and writerly vibes. So, on this week of Thanksgiving, I'd like to share how grateful I am for...cafés.

There's just something about the smell of roasting beans and the hiss of steaming milk that gets my creative juices flowing. Whether it's my familiar neighborhood spot, a busy establishment in the heart of Manhattan, or a new discovery made while traveling, I love settling in at a little table, sipping something hot and caffeinated, and getting down to work. Bonus points if you're surrounded by other writers, of course!

To the café around the corner where I regularly escape for a dirty chai and a change of scenery...thank you!

To the café in Minneapolis that fueled me toward a deadline two weeks ago with salted bourbon brown sugar lattés (pictured below)...thank you!

To the café in London where I hid frustrated tears behind a cappuccino after a particularly stinging rejection, followed by a fast-and-furious writing session that reminded me why I do this work in the first place...thank you!

To the café in Brooklyn where I spent many an afternoon people-watching, worrying I was being criminally unproductive over multiple PSLs and coffee cakes, inadvertently finding inspiration for one of the most unhinged and charming things I think I've ever written...thank you!

Maybe it's the ambiance, maybe it's the escape, maybe it's the "little treat culture" that millennials like me are so prone to indulge in...but I'm so grateful for the hours upon hours I've spent huddled over little tables, sipping hot drinks, laboring over rough drafts. I can't think of anywhere else that provides that special mix of distraction and focus, caffeination and calm. No other place makes me feel quite so productive, creative, or joyful!

(Except, perhaps, a laptop-friendly wine bar...but that's a different post!)

Short Circuit by Poppy Gee

 

 
How do you think the publishing industry is adapting to the "attention economy," and how do you feel about those shifts? Are books an antidote to shortening attention spans?

In the early 2000s I was the chief subeditor on Girlfriend magazine, a magazine for girls aged 10-15 years old. In our editorial meetings we used to discuss the ways that girls read the magazine. This was a hot topic, because the internet was fairly new, and phone ownership was becoming normal. (I got my first phone in 2001). When I started at the magazine in 2003, the magazine had a very successful website. In fact, it was the number one teen girl’s website in Australia. One of my first jobs as the chief sub was to integrate content between the website and the magazine. We pioneered putting weblinks on each page of magazine, and cross referencing the magazine and web content. For example, you’d read an article about TV show The OC, that included a breakout box: Which boy from The OC is your perfect match? Do the quiz at www.girlfriend.com.au and find out. 

We imagined the girls sitting on their bed, flicking through the magazine, checking their phone, doing something on their laptop, with possibly a TV competing for their attention, too. They might also be painting their nails, talking on the phone or to friends, eating afternoon tea. We created content in the magazine that would thrive in a vibrant, dynamic, multi-entertainment eco-system – short articles, snappy break out boxes, stimulating visuals, content purposefully curated so the girls could dip in and out of. At the time, this was a progressive editorial direction. 

Twenty years later, some commercial fiction authors are being similarly progressive. Thriller writer Candice Fox talks about writing short chapters that end with cliff-hangers. A psychological thriller writer friend writes strictly 1500 words per chapter, adds lots of hooks, and aims to ask a question, and answer a question in each chapter. Writers understand that many readers read on their kindle. Shorter chapters and short paragraphs work well on a kindle or an iPad. Long paragraphs are arduous to read on a screen.

This is not to say that the novel as an artform is endangered. Rather, it’s an acknowledgement that people are devouring fiction in different ways.

Newspaper have long understood how people consume their product. When I was a cadet reporter, we were taught the inverted triangle style of reporting – start with the juiciest part of the new story, and then add each element, almost bullet point style, until you run out of word space. The idea is that the reader doesn't have to read all the way to the bottom to get a strong sense of the story. If they wish, they can just read the headline, the first lead sentence, maybe the caption on the photo.

The authors I know who are responding to changing consumer appetites with shorter, sharper books are not doing so because the publishing industry told them to. They’re doing it because as businesspeople, they can see that the marketplace for their product is changing.

Like the teen girls reading (now defunct) Girlfriend magazine, crime fiction readers have a lot of things to tempt them in their leisure time. Phones, of course, are a culprit, but they’re not the only distraction. There’s an extravagant smorgasbord of entertainment at our fingertips, including teetering to-be-read piles next to everyone’s bed. As readers, we must be disciplined. Books don’t get themselves read; you’ve got to set time for reading and not let yourself get distracted. And then you’re rewarded with that wonderful, beguiling, healthy feeling of I can’t wait to get back to my book, and oh, I’m sad I finished, I miss the characters. Vive les livres!

Keeper of the flame, by Catriona

How do you think the publishing industry is adapting to the "attention economy," and how do you feel about those shifts? Are books an antidote to shortening attention spans?

Okayyyyyyyy.

Last question: yes, books are an antidote to shortening attention spans. Like Gabriel said on Tuesday, sitting down and pointing your brain at a novel for a sustained period is cleansing and restorative to the soul. Does anyone ever feel worse after reading for an hour? Does anyone ever feel better after scrolling for an hour? 

First question: I have no idea about anything very much publishing is doing. I'm not proud of that but I'm not ashamed either. It's not that I'm uninterested; more that I'm tapped out with the writing bit and trusting the people who do the rest feels like a good plan.   

I hope what the publishing industry is doing is holding the line. If Broadway and the West End are still putting on plays, despite cinema . . . If cinemas are still opening films, despite television . . .  If television networks and streamers are still commissioning shows despite YouTube . . . I hope publishing can keep doing what they do and not freak out over the flux and disruption of some people currently being beguiled by the torrent of 90 or 45 or 10 second videos in their pockets. Because books aren't going anywhere. 

I'm tremendously heartened by the news that more new bookshops are opening than closing, that paper books are holding steady, that romantasy book groups' average age is . . . just old enough to be reading romantasy. All in all, I'm a convert to the ebullient attituide of English children's author Katherine Rundell, who said recently on this topic, "Pessimism is a luxury for other times; it's bad meat and it nourishes no one." Hell, yeah!

I'm going to lurch off-topic now, but not far. The rest of this post is cheerleading, plain and simple. 

It's a big year for the novel this year. Next month is the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen's birth. Two hundred and fifty years! I know, I know, Don Quixote and Robinson Crusoe but stick with me anyway. 

It's fashionable in pessimistic circles to say that Austen couldn't get published today, but I disagree (Rundell-style). I think if someone was editing Thomas Hardy in 2025 London or New York, they might gently suggest that we don't need to start with the geology of the county, and Marketing might take a long look at some of the subplots in George Eliot, but our girl Jane? 

Look at her first sentences:

"Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage."

"About thirty years ago Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income."

"The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex."

"It is a sentence so universally familiar that a single blog in the business of a good through line must really try to resist."

"Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her."

"No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be an heroine."

(Which sentence opens which novel, gentle readers?)

They're variously gossipy, foreboding, ironic, satirical and more, but every one of them is a promissory note binding her to deliver a big fat feast of a story. And she does. 

When I think of what she went through with her publishers (hint: Georgian England wasn't a great place and time to be a woman) and reflect that she kept on writing and died with quarter of a first draft on her little round table, I think I can deal with whatever comes my way from this business.

More than that, I want to carry the torch. She was a genius; I'm not. If she wrote on two inches of ivory, I write on half a grain of rice. And no one's going to be reading me 250 years after I was born. All this I know. But I want to do my bit. There's been a quarter millennium of funny, sharp, sweet, plotty, scary, lyrical, exciting, heartbreaking tales of good and bad and love and hate and loss and courage and redemption since she dared to do what she did. TikTok's not putting the lights out, okay?

Cx

Attention, attention! by Eric Beetner

 How do you think the publishing industry is adapting to the "attention economy," and how do you feel about those shifts? Are books an antidote to shortening attention spans?

From what I've seen, publishing for fiction has not made many strides to deal with the shortening attention spans of a younger generation. In truth, what could they do? Novels are the full-attention span medium of entertainment. More than movies, more than plays, even the 5 hour Shakespeare epics pale in comparison to the time investment in a book.

Nor do I think they should be chasing shorter attention spans. So far every attempt that I've witnessed has failed. Amazon went all-in on serialized content. Breaking books up into short parts and delivering them to your Kindle one by one, like episodes of a TV season. Giant flop. We're in an on-demand age. Customers didn't care for being told to wait.

I've heard several times that novellas are the future. People read on their phones in short snatches, they want shorter content. Untrue. Novellas are seen as a poor value. Spend money for a book that's under 100 pages long? Customers have said no, thanks. The biggest hit sector of the book market recently has been fantasy and romantasy series which have 500-600 page installments within 8 or 10 book series. The readers are out there. They're also posting about these books on the very apps that aim to take attention spans away.

I've long said that the kind of books you read depends greatly on how you read. If you can only fit in a quick read on your lunchbreak or you commute, then shorter chapters, smaller page counts and tighter prose will appeal to you.

If you are retired and have all afternoon to recline and luxuriate in a book, then length is less important. Think of the classic novels teenagers think of as so boring when they become required reading in high school. Back then, reading was one of the only forms of entertainment. Nobody was fighting Austen or Dickens for your attention like today.

The short chapters technique has been effective for quite a while now. Just ask the world's most popular writer, James Patterson. Those novels are routinely 100+ chapters. The books are still 300-400 pages, so the overall length isn't compromised, but the illusion of speed is created. Better for today's readers. Frankly, I'm surprised more writers don't do it, myself included.

With readership shrinking, the publishing industry would be wise not to abandon the ones who are keeping it afloat. To chase kids whose attention is caught up in TikTok, YouTube and Instagram is foolish and a losing strategy. 

Books can be the alternative. To make it a viable alternative is a larger cultural question of how to make reading appealing again to a generation raised on 10 second video-aided hits of dopamine. That's above my pay grade. 

My other fear is that the industry is pricing out many readers. Books used to be the entertainment for the masses, highbrow and low. But, like theater before it, as prices climb, a smaller and smaller sector of the market can even afford a book. The days of the .25 paperback on a spinner rack in the drugstore are gone. Replaced by the $33.00 hardcover. That's quite an investment. More than a full month of Netflix viewing. 

But if publishing decides on chasing a shrinking market of young readers who can't afford their product anyhow, they're in for worse times ahead. 

Reading will never go away. Much like music in a digital age, it will become increasingly harder to make a living as an author. Attention spans will continue to shrink as will the mass market appeal of books. It's the world as we live it these days. But for the die-hards, books will continue to live on. And for those of us who have the impulse control to read a full novel, we'll be the richer for it.

Hooked and Scrolled

Hooked and Scrolled: Fiction in the Age of the Feed

How do you think the publishing industry is adapting to the ‘attention economy,’ and how do you feel about those shifts? Are books an antidote to shortening attention spans?

Fiction might be the last quiet act of rebellion.

The publishing industry today is running its own campaign in the “attention economy,” and the product is still—miraculously—selling: books in all their formats, paper, digital, and audio. But the pitch has changed. In a world where we scroll more than we linger, publishing has borrowed tricks from Madison Avenue: tighter hooks, shorter blurbs, and a ruthless devotion to packaging. Every tagline, cover, and tweet is designed to create an infinite hunger for a hit of dopamine. Don Draper would’ve called it “the carousel,” except now it spins at TikTok speed.

As a writer, I feel this pull constantly. I write lean because I assume my reader is one notification away from leaving me for a push alert. Every sentence has to seduce you—to earn another line read, another turn of the page, another moment of attention. Each word becomes a small act of persuasion, inviting you to stay with me, to linger a little longer.

But there’s an irony here. Books might be the last long-form medium that still rewards deep focus. A good novel doesn’t shout; it hums softly, then lingers in your mind, like a quiet echo. It demands immersion—the slow, deliberate attention that scrolling never allows. In that sense, fiction both participates in and quietly resists the attention economy. This tension isn’t just a feature of literature—it mirrors the larger structures of desire, productivity, and control that shape our digital lives.

Some thinkers, like Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, offer a way to understand this tension. They describe capitalism as a “schizophrenic machine,” which unleashes desire only to trap it again in predictable cycles of consumption. The feed works the same way: endless choice loops us back into craving and fatigue. Byung-Chul Han calls this the “achievement society,” where we exploit ourselves willingly, mistaking constant productivity for self-realization. Reading offers a quiet alternative. A novel demands nothing of us but attention. In giving ourselves fully to it, we resist these cycles and reclaim a form of freedom that the algorithm can’t touch.

Under such conditions, it’s difficult to sustain the kind of contemplative attention democracy requires. You can’t deliberate when you’re exhausted, or imagine alternatives when every spare moment is filled with debt, distraction, and the low-grade hum of performance anxiety.

That’s why reading—slow, sustained, unmonetized—feels quietly radical. To give a book your full attention is to reclaim time from the marketplace, to say: my consciousness is not for sale. Fiction, at its best, doesn’t compete for your attention; it transforms it. It doesn’t demand that you stay—it gives you a reason to want to.

So yes, publishing has learned to market its soul. But maybe that’s the paradoxical hope of art in a distracted age: even as the system sells us the simulation of desire, something real still gets through. Somewhere between the scroll and the sentence, the algorithm and the line break, the old human capacity for wonder flickers—briefly, stubbornly—back to life.