Does your site get under people's skins? Do people click away with something to think about—something from your econtent that warrants contemplation? That's a tough question for most econtent sites. It might even be considered unfair. After all, people want headlines, brief explanations, quick takes, and surface analysis. As such, this type of content dominates most econtent sites. Usability gurus say you have only five or ten seconds to communicate with a Web user before they click on to another site. And with Google now announcing Eight! Billion! Web! Pages! in its index, there's never a shortage of new sites to click to. So it's only natural to design content to suit fast-thought users, those for whom reading two hundred words would be serious effort.

Memorable, thought-provoking, resonant: while not synonyms, these words describe content that sticks with people—content that gets under users' skins. And consider the word contemplation. That may be the ultimate goal for the best content on your site: to show up in the contemplative thoughts of some readers. People still do contemplate, you know—or at least some of us left coast aging hippies do. A whole group of "slow" movements around the world (such as the slow food movement) testify to a desire to get back in touch with ourselves, with our natural rhythms, with what's under the surface. We're trying to regain our humanity and, at least once in a while, to move away from a frenetic state of content overload.

In the March 2003 "Crawford Files" (American Libraries), I discussed "The Century's Most Vital Technological Device." My candidate: "the off switch—the device that lets you remove distractions and prevent interruptions." I suggested that joggers try turning off their iPod or Discman once or twice a week; that TV viewers just turn off the TV the next time their favorite show is preempted or in reruns; that people try turning off their cell phones and the ringers on their landline phones for half an hour. All those off switches remove distractions so that you can actually think, or meditate, or whatever suits your quiet time.

It's still good advice, maybe more so as the number of distractions grows. Okay, maybe we don't all need Zen states, but we do need deep thought. When you're contemplating, things come back to haunt you. Maybe songs or other pieces of music (James Taylor's "Gaia," the prelude to Randy Newman's "Dixie Flyer," and, in a very different way, "Down in the River to Pray" from the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack all resonate with me at the moment). Maybe elements of books, or friends you lost or retained. Possibly scenes from movies or TV shows, along with paintings and sculptures. Some of these deep memories instill a sense of awe. Others just stick with us, serving as foci for thoughts or informing our daily actions with a richer context and perspective.

Can econtent do that? I don't see why not, even if computer interfaces seem to inherently limit deep connections. I don't have a contemplative-content-formula. I think by its very nature, thought-provocation can't be reduced in this way. Some sites get under their users' skins through community-building. If I grumble about "interlopers" taking over a news and discussion site in my field, it is a clear sign that the site has actually become a community for me. Other sites may make a deep connection through purely functional means. I doubt that many people (outside Mountain View, at least) contemplate Google, but the site's doing just fine through efficiency and mass reach, not through depth and intimacy. Still others, I believe, do manage to mount econtent that speaks deeply to users, at least once in a while. This can be through the provision of quality content, content in context, or even by facilitating serendipitous discovery.

You can't fake it (at least not for long), but deep content can make deep connections. Make those connections, give people something to think about, something to contemplate, and your site will truly matter. Your site can become a member of the reader's intellectual and emotional family—a place they'll return to often, look forward to visiting, and support as much as possible.