Living in any city means being surrounded by distractions. Cars honk, sirens wail, people chat, and somewhere, a stranger yells from a rooftop as planes roar overhead. Neon signs flash, posters try to catch your eye, traffic lights flick from red to green, and the subway sends a gust of wind brushing your knee. Cats meow, doors slam, children laugh as the fridge hums to life. Phones ring, emails ping, notifications pop up, and social media screams for your attention.
And once you’re pulled away? It takes 20 minutes to get back.
Imagine you’re deeply focused on something important. Not just reading an email or watching a quick video, but really concentrating. Your mind is clear, your task is laid out, and the outside world fades into the background. You’re in the zone. It’s just you and the work, perfectly in sync.
Then—“Pling.”
A small distraction: a notification from X or Facebook, an incoming email, the coffee machine whirring to life. Someone asks about the price of bread. It doesn’t take much, but suddenly, you’re snapped out of your flow. And just like that, it’s gone. It’ll take you at least 20 minutes to get back to that place. Twenty minutes of undisturbed focus—if you can manage it. But by then, you might as well grab a coffee and a doughnut because you’re already off track.
Distractions don’t just come from the outside world—they show up in the tools we use, too. Take photography, for example. When you’re trying to capture the perfect moment, you want a camera that’s intuitive and easy to use. If you need to consult a 400-page manual first, you might miss the shot of your newborn baby altogether.
The best designs strip away complexity to help you focus.
Apple, under Steve Jobs, mastered this philosophy. Their products weren’t just functional; they were intuitive, accessible, and free of distractions. The iPhone didn’t need a manual—everything from swiping to tapping was designed to be so simple, you just knew how to use it. Dyson vacuums are another example: powerful, sleek, and engineered so perfectly that cleaning feels almost effortless. Even the Swiss Army knife—a classic design—gives you all the essential tools without cluttering things up. It’s simple but effective.
And that brings us to you—the audio storyteller.
You know the frustration of being distracted by your tools. Most of the software used for producing audio narratives wasn’t designed for the job. It’s fantastic for music production, with its hundreds of instrument inputs, or for movies, where sound engineers layer effects, dialogue, and music into a complex mix. For them, the complexity of the software is an extension of their creativity. The endless features feel directly connected to their brain’s synapses—they’re one with the tool, and that’s great.
But for you, the storyteller? The software itself becomes a distraction.
It’s constantly asking, “Would you like a stereo or mono track?” “44.1kHz or 48kHz?” “Restart to install updates?” And let’s not forget the endless implied questions: “What should the music levels be?” “How’s the narration sounding?” “Are you sure this is ready for broadcast?”
You think, “I don’t know!”
And then, “Just leave me alone!”
This is no way to work. You’re hot, frustrated, and on the verge of tears. And it’s certainly not helping your story. The more energy your tools demand, the less you have left for the story itself. What should be the main focus—your narrative—becomes just one more fleeting task in a sea of to-dos as the deadline looms.
People often ask, “What makes Hindenburg stand out from other DAWs?”
And the answer is simple: It doesn’t distract you.