The Faster We Go, the More We Crave Slow

I love the process of handwriting.

There's something creative about putting pen to paper. I love the sound of a keyboard tapping away, too, but handwriting makes things stick in my brain.

If something is important and I really want to remember it, I'll write it down rather than put it in my calendar.

Look around my office and you'll find stacks of notebooks and journals filled with my handwriting. Some ideas are rubbish, some are interesting, and others probably made sense to me at the time.

But I love looking back through them.

Writing is one of the ways I make the unconscious conscious. Sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking until I start writing. One thought leads to another, and suddenly I'm connecting ideas I hadn't considered before.

It's like planting seeds. Who knows what might grow?

That's how my brain has worked throughout my life, too. I synthesise patterns and ideas, and I'm fascinated by human nature: why people behave the way they do, what motivates us, and how our behaviour changes as technology evolves.

Which brings me to something I've been noticing lately…

Are we going analogue again?

There's a growing interest in going anti-tech and anti-dopaminergic. I see more analogue items on the streets and in our homes: film cameras, brick phones, vinyl records, journalling, physical books and even handwritten correspondence.

It's fascinating when you consider how much technology has changed our lives. We've spent decades making everything faster, more accessible and easier to distribute.

But it begs the question: is it making our lives better?

The printing press transformed how people reproduced and shared ideas. Then the internet arrived, and suddenly anyone with an internet connection could become a publisher.

I was part of that shift, building much of my career around social media, technology and online communities.

And now we have AI.

I like AI. I use it a lot, and I think it's an extraordinary and useful tool.

But I've also noticed growing concern about AI, particularly when it comes to creativity and producing content. People talk about it making our brains rot.

I'm curious about that.

I don't think the problem is AI itself. I wonder whether we've become so focused on producing more, faster, that we're losing touch with the slower, more thoughtful parts of creative work.

What happens to the art of writing itself?

I'm not talking about producing an article, a social media post or another piece of content.

I'm talking about the act of writing: putting your own thoughts into words, figuring out what you believe, getting stuck halfway through a sentence and finding your way through it.

That's the part I don't want to lose.

Human nature is a funny thing.

The tools we use can change dramatically, while many of the things that motivate us remain familiar. In most cases, our habits are much harder to change.

We're curious creatures. We want connection, recognition and a sense of belonging.

Technology has given us extraordinary ways to do all of that. But perhaps the growing interest in analogue experiences is partly a response to how much of our lives we've moved online.

Maybe people want a break from their screens. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or perhaps there's something satisfying about doing something with your hands, keeping a physical object, or giving your attention to one thing for a while.

And there's some research behind what I've been noticing.

According to MIDiA Research's Analogue Revival report, two-thirds of consumers surveyed had tried cutting down their screen time in early 2024. Some were turning to physical formats and activities away from screens.

Two-thirds!

I find that interesting. We've spent years making everything digital, and now a lot of people are making a conscious effort to spend less time with it.

Are we simply tired of our screens? Or are we rediscovering things we didn't realise we'd miss?

Probably a bit of both.

That's what interests me about human behaviour: there isn't always one neat explanation. Cliché though it may be, we're complex.

Thinking about the future of The Trusted Voice

I've also been thinking about the future of The Trusted Voice, especially now that I'm a mum.

I want to grow TTV in a way that's sustainable for my life while still giving me room to be creative, explore ideas and experiment, and continue helping smart people become more visible.

I've spent years building audiences and communities on digital platforms. LinkedIn has been an enormous part of my career.

But I don't want everything I build to depend on someone else's platform. I've seen what can happen with Meerkat.

TTV has always been a continual experiment. Lately, I've been thinking about how to scale the environment rather than myself.

How do I create more opportunities for interesting people and ideas to connect without needing to be at the centre of everything?

I don't think the answer has to be another digital community or platform.

Which brings me back to handwriting.

My latest experiment: TTV Field Notes

I came across the idea of sending handwritten letters and immediately thought: I used to love writing letters. Why don't I do that again?

So I'm starting something called TTV Field Notes.

Field Notes is a monthly letter delivered through the post. It's deliberately slow—yes, snail-mail slow. It's a small, physical space for ideas that don't need to be rushed, optimised or squeezed into a social media post.

Each letter will be written by me and will share something I've been noticing, thinking about or exploring. It might be an observation about human behaviour, a conversation that stayed with me, a peculiar discovery, or a few ideas I've been connecting.

Some months might be about creativity or technology. Other months might be about work, motherhood, culture or something I've stumbled across that made me curious.

The point isn't to deliver a polished lesson or a definitive answer. It's to share a thought while it's still alive: something to sit with, question or carry into your own life.

I might also include a little something to make you smile, giggle or become curious about a possibility you hadn't considered.

That's what I hope Field Notes does: expand someone's curiosity and perhaps inspire them to reconnect with their own creativity.

There's no grand plan to change the world through handwritten letters. 😂

I haven't figured everything out yet. For now, I'll be writing the letters myself. Perhaps down the track I'll invite other interesting people to contribute or experiment with a letter exchange.

But I'd rather begin somewhere than spend months perfecting an idea.

And I like the thought of someone opening their actual letterbox and finding something that isn't a bill.

Planting another seed

I don't know where Field Notes will lead.

That's the thing about experimenting. Sometimes you discover something worth pursuing. Other times, you learn something and move on.

I've done plenty of both throughout my career, and I think there's value in following our curiosity without knowing exactly where it will take us.

So this is me picking up a pen again.

If you want to join my little experiment, TTV Field Notes is $17 a month, including postage within Australia.

You'll receive one physical letter every month, written by me, with the occasional surprise tucked inside. But more importantly, you'll have a reason to pause.

A reason to step away from the constant stream of updates, opinions and notifications.

A reason to spend a few quiet minutes with an idea that hasn't been reduced to a headline, optimised for engagement or designed to make you scroll.

Perhaps the letter will help you notice something you've been too busy to see. Perhaps it will give you a new question to carry into your work or your life. Perhaps it will remind you that creativity doesn't always arrive when you're trying to produce something.

Sometimes it appears when you slow down enough to pay attention.

That's the invitation: not simply to receive a letter, but to make a little more room for curiosity, reflection and your own thoughts.

Make space for a slower kind of thinking 💌

P.S. The irony of someone who's spent much of her career experimenting with technology starting a handwritten letter project isn't lost on me. But perhaps that's why I'm so curious to try it.