You can feel the moment it changes.

You’re ten minutes in.
The audience is with you. Heads up, nodding along. That sense that you’ve got them.

Then something shifts.

A glance at a watch.
A phone lights up briefly, face down again.
A small, collective exhale you can’t quite hear—but you know it’s there.

Not because the talk is bad.
Because it’s running over.

Nobody ever tells you off for finishing early.
Nobody thanks you for using every second of your slot.

But everyone notices when you go long.

💡 ONE IDEA WELL

Timing isn’t admin. It’s a kindness.

Running a conference is a small miracle of logistics. Speakers stack up like dominoes. Coffee queues run late. Housekeeping announcements stretch. Even the first speaker of the day almost never starts on time.

When everyone goes just five minutes over, the whole system collapses.

And the audience knows this.

Every extra minute you take is borrowed - from the next speaker, from the break, from the people already doing the maths in their head. You may think you’re adding value. They’re thinking about lunch.

Attention doesn't last forever.

As early as the 1970s, educational psychologists were already measuring what audiences intuitively feel. Studies showed that attention peaks early in a lecture and then drops sharply after about 10–15 minutes. Later research refined this picture: attention doesn’t disappear altogether. It fragments. Lapses become more frequent as time goes on.

That distinction matters.

Layered onto this is the world we now inhabit: infinite scroll, autoplay, algorithmic interruption. TikTok, Reels, and YouTube Shorts train us to decide—within seconds—whether something deserves our focus. That doesn’t make long-form thinking impossible, but it does mean prolonged attention is no longer the default. It has to be earned.

This isn’t about distraction.
It’s about cognitive load.

Our working memory has limits. When a talk keeps adding ideas without consolidation—more slides, more examples, more words—learning doesn’t deepen. It degrades. The brain shifts from meaning-making to endurance.

Which is why longer talks don’t equal better talks.

​

​

The Gettysburg Address took about two minutes. Edward Everett spoke for two hours beforehand. Only one of those speeches still echoes.

Churchill’s wartime speeches were rarely longer than ten or fifteen minutes. Steve Jobs’ keynotes weren’t legendary because they were long—they were legendary because they were paced, shaped, and intentional. They knew where they were going, and they knew when to stop.

We don’t remember the long talks.
We remember the ones that landed.

The paradox is this: the shorter the talk, the harder it is to deliver well.

Anyone can keep talking.
Ending takes discipline.

A good talk finishes early.
A great talk finishes exactly on time.

🧰 LESS MESS, MORE MESSAGE

Most talks run long because they’re trying to be complete.

We add one more slide for safety.
One more example to prove we’ve done the reading.
One more caveat so no one can say we missed something.

But completeness isn’t what audiences come for.

They come for clarity.

Every extra minute adds friction. It asks the audience to hold more, track more, and decide what matters for you. That’s not generosity. It’s cognitive outsourcing.

Less mess isn’t about saying less.
It’s about saying only what earns its place.

More message means deciding what your talk is really about—and protecting that idea from dilution. It means letting go of slides that explain too much, stories that don’t quite land, and endings that trail on because stopping feels abrupt.

A clean ending isn’t abrupt.
It’s confident.

🛠️ TRY THIS

✅ Design your ending first. Decide exactly where you’ll stop before you decide what stays.

✅ Rehearse with a timer running. Include pauses, laughter, and silence. They all count.

✅ Cut something you like. If you’ll miss it, it probably mattered. The audience still won’t.

✅ Build a flex point. Know which section can go if time is tight.

✅ Aim to finish early—on purpose. Two or three minutes buys goodwill, calm, and confidence.

🧭 ASK YOURSELF THIS

What if the most valuable thing you could give your audience
wasn’t one more slide…
but time?

​
Time to think.
Time to connect the dots.
Time to let your idea become theirs.

​
​
Speak soon,

Andy
​
PS If this idea resonated, this is exactly the work I do in my workshops—helping people design talks that respect attention, land clearly, and finish with intention.

If you’re planning a conference, a department session, or a leadership offsite and want talks that people actually remember, get in touch.