slow burns, solicitation, and viva la flywheel

le tour, continued: more happenings, mishaps, and takeaways from pdx

1. If it feels like solicitation, it probably is. I came into this trip armed with an iPad. On that iPad I had two things set up: my early app demo and the survey I’ve been trying to get business owners to fill out for months. As soon as I walked into the first shop on the the first day of the PDXPMFVT, it became immediately clear that this iPad and this setup were not the way to engage this crowd, cold and upon first contact. It wasn’t until I was in the room—reading it, realizing the dynamics, feeling nuance—that I was like oh fuck, this is going to feel like I’m a solicitor. Like I’m… in sales.

Gross.

So, over the course of two and a half full days of more or less cold knocking on business doors in a city where I don’t live, the iPad never came out. Instead, each visit was about reading the room and deciding what felt right to do in that instance, with that specific person. It was about what most human interactions are about: picking up on subtle cues and showing up as yourself and finding the right balance of improv and intuition. An in-the-moment pivot from solicitation to that overused word: connection.

I’m told that it’s a trauma response to excel at hyper-vigilance and over-reading people and rooms. And I don’t think what I’ve been told is wrong—sometimes call a spade a spade, and it is exactly that. The difference is in whether you use that spade or it uses you, and I can honestly say that I’ve come a long way in learning how to use my spades.

Also p.s., you can plan the shit out of something and envision it unfolding one way. But what’s kinda cool is that you truly cannot know until you’re actually doing the thing. Absolutely nothing beats being in it—entire pathways you never even considered before present themselves. Possibilities become infinite and refined at the same time, and the way forward embodies the clarity of instinct.

2. Even though they’re super fucking cute and you get lots of compliments on them and they’re an easy convo starter, do not wear the pink patent leather Doc Martens on an 8.5hr walking tour. You will get blisters that will last for weeks to come.

3. Some things are slower burns than you want them to be, and maybe that’s a good thing. This one dovetails nicely with one of the takeaways from last week: you always need more time than you think (and/or everything always takes longer than you expect). If I think about day one-ish of deciding that, thanks to vibe coding, I could finally build the app I had been envisioning for inOregon for years, and now, my expectations around speed have shifted.

With roughly five months in between day one-ish and now, I’ve gone from the super-naive stance of “I can totally make this happen on my own in a few weeks and start pitching VCs shortly thereafter,” to “hm, this is taking way longer than expected and I both want and need others to work on this shit with me—it’s going to be a slow burn and maybe that’s a good thing.”

Just because you want something to happen overnight doesn’t mean it will, or that expediency is the best thing for longterm growth or longevity. Whether it’s the connections you’re building along the way (trust takes time!), the conversations and learnings that can only occur organically and in the moment (so many of them!), or the time spent talking with your potential customers (how else can you build the thing for them?!), there’s a lot to be said for depth over speed.

Do I still want things to happen yesterday? Fuck yeah. Do I also now understand how the slow burn is both inherent and essential to the build? Also fuck yeah. I think the velocity will increase at some point, which makes me think about the book that startups send you when you’re first hired (I got one in the mail a few years ago)—Jim Collins’ “Turning the Flywheel”.

It talks about “a virtuous cycle where consistent, small, aligned actions build momentum over time, eventually resulting in a breakthrough in performance.” And can be applied to pretty much anything (I think about bike racing, writing books, dance, building this thing). From the outside looking in, it can appear as overnight success. But the inside knows the thousands of micro-moments and minutes and small but focused actions that went into the breakthrough.

PS: Subscribe now if you're into this messy build-in-public energy. Miss the last issue? It’s right here. Also literally none of this is ever advice. I’m sharing what I learn through Babe, and perhaps you’ll learn from my mistakes. Hopefully, maybe, who knows, ily.