I was staring at the metrics for a product I launched recently called Ripple. Zero active users, zero paying customers, zero anything really. And that's when I caught myself doing it again.

"You know what this needs?" I thought, already opening my code editor. "Video support. I could expand beyond text repurposing and start generating video content from blog posts. TikTok clips, YouTube shorts, Instagram reels..."

Stop.

I forced myself to close the laptop. Here I was, about to spend another week building video functionality for a product that literally no one was using for text repurposing. I could add all of the new features imaginable and I'd still have exactly zero users.

Because adding features doesn't solve the sales and marketing problem. And that's the problem I've been running from.

What Was Really Happening

Here's what was really happening: I was lying to myself.

Every time I opened that code editor instead of finding potential users, I was choosing comfort over progress. Every "quick feature" I added to a product with zero users was just another day I wasn't building a real business.

And deep down, I knew it.

I knew that all the code meant absolutely nothing if no one wanted what I'd built. I knew that users define perfection, not me. I knew that months of hiding behind "just one more feature" still equaled zero revenue.

But selling and marketing felt like stepping into a black hole. I had this crystal clear vision of success in my head, but zero clue how to get there through sales and marketing.

What does outreach even look like?

How do you start conversations without sounding desperate?

What if they ignore me?

What if they hate what I built?

The whole space felt loaded with vulnerability and inevitable rejection, and I had no roadmap for navigating any of it. So I hid behind what I was good at, telling myself I was being productive while I was actually just procrastinating on the work that mattered.

Meanwhile, I was completely stuck. Here I was, scared of sales and marketing, avoiding it, but also knowing that it was the most important thing for me to figure out if I ever wanted to make my own money and build my own business.

Forcing Myself into the Uncomfortable Space

The mindset shift I had to make

First, I had to flip my entire approach. Earning trust through first providing value is crucial because without that trust, there's very little reason for people to believe you're capable of solving their problem well. It almost puts you in a position where you're blindly asking people for their money, and I don't think that approach works very well. It might work once in a while, but it's not going to lead to great, long-term results.

Look, I'm an engineer because I genuinely love solving problems and helping people succeed. But it's really hard to get people to trust you if you don't give them a reason to. And "hey, buy my thing" isn't a reason.

So I'm doubling down on giving people actual value before asking for anything in return. I should be earning their money by proving I can help them first.

How I'm actually finding people to talk to

The research part has been eye-opening. I'm not just randomly reaching out to people anymore. I'm being systematic about it:

I started using Google Keyword Planner to see if people are actually searching for the kind of solution I built. Are they googling "repurpose blog posts for social media" or similar terms? This helps me understand if there's real demand, not just what I assumed there would be.

I also browse Substack and Reddit looking for people who are creating long-form content and might be interested in expanding to other social platforms. But here's the key question I'm trying to answer: are there even people who want to take their long-form content and repurpose it for social media? Is that something people are actively thinking about?

What the conversations actually look like

I've been talking with the owner of a Boston-area restaurant chain I love. I reached out because I thought they were doing something interesting with AI, and I wanted to help. But here's how I approached it: I told them upfront that I wasn't expecting money. I'm just starting my entrepreneurship journey, and I need to provide value first.

I have insights in tech, data, and AI. So I asked: what problems are you facing? How can I help?

That conversation led to me sharing resources about AI agents and Claude Code. Not selling anything, just genuinely trying to be helpful. It also led to a part of the conversation where we’re discussing how to use data and AI to solve a particular problem they’re having!

Why this feels scary but right

I won't lie. This approach is terrifying. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I don't know if I'm going to get the results I want.

Every outreach message feels vulnerable.

Rejection is inevitable.

But at least I know I'm being genuine and true to who I am: someone who wants to help people solve problems. And if I can make a living doing that, that's exactly what I want.

"I won't lie. This approach is terrifying. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I don't know if I'm going to get the results I want."

Growing Into the Space That Scares Me Most

I'm much more aware now that sales and marketing is what really drives the needle. Building things is great, but people ultimately need to be interested enough in what I build to solve their problem and pay for it.

That's really different from anything I've done before.

Moving into the space of sales and marketing is genuinely tough. I feel exposed, vulnerable, like I have no idea what I'm doing. Because…I don’t. But the more time I spend trying to figure this out, the better I genuinely feel. Not because I'm getting immediate results, but because I feel like I'm focusing on the right things.

The fact that I'm this uncomfortable might actually be a good sign. It makes me recognize that I am growing, that I'm starting to learn the things I'm hoping will put me on the path I want to be on. The path that gets me to Spain with my family, making my own money, building something that matters.

Because hiding behind code was comfortable, but it wasn't getting me anywhere. This feels scary as hell, but at least it feels like progress.