Is “um” allowed on my podcast?

Thoughts on slow content and optimizing myself for the internet.

I was listening to Rick Rubin’s new podcast and I heard his guest say um. 

A noticeable amount of ums. And so many ya knows. There were long pauses. The thinking and finding of words. And those awkward moments when one part of a conversation clearly ends and you’re trying to figure out where it should go next.

It struck me because I’ve been editing a few of my own interviews for this newsletter, so I’ve become painfully aware of the way I talk. I’m also aware of how automatic it’s become to edit all those messy, inarticulate parts of myself away in GarageBand.

Part of me feels like doing this is my responsibility. If you’re subscribed, that means I’m asking for your precious attention and I don’t want to waste it. So if I can purchase software that removes spaces and ums and can reduce runtime by 10% with one click, that must be a good thing? Clear communication is also something I value and something I’m working on. The fact that I want to give listeners the same level of communication that I myself am after – again, not a bad thing.

But another part of me feels like I’m using something akin to Facetune. I’m just sitting there, manipulating a part of myself that I find difficult to accept. I think when you’re presenting any part of yourself on the internet – whether it’s your face or your intellect – it’s hard to avoid wanting to feel beautiful.

Owen Wilson was the person being interviewed, and he says ya know a lot. Something I do too. An insecure habit, I think because I prefer to be validated immediately after finishing a sentence. He also completely finishes his thought but then still says um… Almost like an insurance policy just in case the thing he said didn’t land. Same. 

Wilson mentions that he doesn’t like public speaking and didn’t want to do the interview. But after listening I understand why – he’s not the polished public speaker I’m used to hearing on podcasts. But what made this conversation so beautiful and different was that Rick Rubin didn’t seem to edit his friend at all. He didn’t respond to his friend’s insecurity by optimizing him for the internet. He lovingly allowed their conversation to just exist as it was.

The result was great, but it was not viral internet stuff. They talked a lot about trees and how they used to like night time but now they like morning time. The conversation was slow and chill, and while I listened to it, so was I. Something I so rarely feel after nearly 2 hours online.

Time moves differently on the internet, and more often than not it feels like I have to pick up my pace. Everything is optimized to move at breakneck speed and designed to remove friction – turning all that passes through it into a sweet internet smoothie, quick and easy to consume, perfect for multitasking. When we listen to a conversation on the internet, we listen to it in this context – expecting speed and efficiency, so much so that we now have an option to listen to most things at 2x speed. The idea being, get in and out and onto the next. The less time it takes, the more time you have to do other things – like consume more content. 2x speed encourages a behavior of consumption that’s really not that dissimilar to 20% off at Zara – each new piece of content or clothing holding some small hope of making us better – more beautiful, more intelligent, more whole. 

Even if we don’t use the 2x feature, most of us on the internet have still taken on the 2x mindset that faster is better, or at least inevitable. That’s why it was mildly jarring to hear an interview that was edited so lightly that it actually met me and my flawed, human speed. As I listened to Wilson find his words, my own brain had time to catch up to what was said, have a feeling about it, and make a unique connection from my own experiences. It reminded me of so many of my real life conversations, which are often stumbling or convoluted or redundant, yet feel so good because I’m feeling patience and acceptance in those moments. Basically, I’m present, so rather than time feeling like it’s accelerating, it feels more like it’s slowing down and expanding. 

The Wilson interview had some of this quality to it simply because of the way it was edited. It was more noticeable to me because I was listening with an editor's ear, coming off a day or two of slashing ums and ya knows in my own interview. It brought my attention and awareness to my tendency to speed things up, and made me think about why I do that and who it’s good for. It was a welcome reminder that I always have a choice, even though the internet’s algorithms often make us feel like we have to feed the beast a certain food in a certain way at a certain time all the time – that we have to meet its constant expectations.

But many of our livelihoods do depend on creating content that is designed to capture and keep people’s attention (worth noting that Wilson and Rubin probably don’t need to be too concerned with this). This is not inherently bad, especially when our intention is to serve others. For example, when we buy tickets to a film we expect and deserve to be told a good story. It’s a conscious choice and transaction. But on the internet, often people are making content with the conscious or unconscious intention to downgrade our awareness and pull at our emotional levers in such a way that our decision to be entertained becomes automated. Addictive content and design is so normal on the internet that we don’t even really question it anymore, much less expect that it could or should do the opposite – which would be to make us more aware. And not just make our mind more aware of ideas and concepts, but content that makes us more aware of our bodies – or at least doesn’t downgrade that connection so much so that we forget to blink or breathe or stretch. I guess I wonder, can we consume good content that’s *also* good at helping us get up and go for a walk? Slow content that moves at a more human pace helps us retain enough mindfulness to know when to take a break from it. Of course we need it to do more than that, but am I naive to think it could do both?

Speed, optimization and efficiency frees us from so much monotonous drudgery and makes our lives vastly better, but we need to hold a greater sense of awareness around what is not made better. To at least ask the question. Does this pace work for me? Why am I creating content in this way? How great is the content I’m consuming and how great is the way I’m consuming it? Is it meeting the needs of my mind, and my body too? Is it making me feel more aware or more auto-pilot?

Before I contort my fumbling, flawed, human self to the pace of the internet, I want to at least ask if slower might be better. If there’s something to be gained from letting that mind-gathering pause or inarticulate um or insecure ya know just exist. 

Often the answer will be no. But it’s definitely not an auto-reply no.