Nobody wants to read your Sh*t by Steven Pressfield and The anatomy of Genre by John Truby. The Internet a-b testing, tempting me to skip to the explicit scenes.
We really are at the bottom of attention revolt and reclamation. As we get into the area of devolution of a-b testing. We evolve to find our literary roots, to take away for the crazy lottery bid.
We know it matters.
"Exposure" rephrased countlessly, with the engines of fomo for that live dopamine fix. It matters.
Exposure to an audience that will love and support you on Patreon.
Exposure that will burn one's skin if they get close to the sun, yet drown in the ocean below.
The drip of attention that drives direct marketers and celebrities insane.