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Building something valuable is no longer about validating a novel idea as fast as possible. Instead, the modern MVP exercise is about building a version of an idea that is different from and better than what exists today. Most of us aren’t building for a net-new market. Rather, we’re finding opportunities to improve existing categories. We need an MVP concept that helps founders and product leaders iterate on their early ideas to compete in an existing market.

It’s not good enough to be first with an idea. You have to out-execute from day 1.

The MVP as a practice of building a hacky product as quickly and cheaply as possible to validate the product does no longer work. Many product categories are already saturated with a variety of alternatives, and to truly test the viability of any new idea you need to build something that is substantially better.

Airbnb wanted to build a service that relied on people being comfortable spending the night at a stranger’s house. When they started in 2009, it wasn’t obvious if people were ready for this. Today, it’s obvious that it works, so they wouldn’t need to validate the idea. A similar analogy works for Lyft when they started exploring ridesharing as a concept.

Today, the MVP is no longer about validating a novel idea as quickly as possible. Rather, its aim is to create a compelling product that draws in the early users in order to gather feedback that you then use to sharpen the product into the best version of many.

If you look at successful companies that have IPO'd in the recent years–Zoom, Slack, TikTok, Snowflake, Robinhood–you see examples not of novel ideas, but of these highly-refined ideas.Since many of us are building in a crowded market, the bar for a competitive, public-ready MVP is much higher than the MVP for a novel idea, since users have options. To get to this high bar, we have to spend more time refining the initial version.

The original MVP idea can still work if you’re in the fortunate position of creating a wholly new category of product or work with new technology platforms, but that becomes rarer and rarer as time goes on.

Let’s jump over the regular startup journey that you might take today when building a new product:You start with the idea on how you want to improve on existing products in a category.You build your first prototype.You iterate with your vision and based on feedback from early users.You get an inkling of product market fit and traction.Optional: You start fundraising (with demonstrable traction).Optional: You scale your team, improve the product, and go to market.

In today’s landscape, you’re likely competing against many other products. To win, you have to build a product that provides more value to your users than your competition does.To be able to do this with limited resources, you must scope down your audience (and thus your ambitions) as much as possible to make competing easier, and aim to solve the problems of specific people.

When we started Linear, our vision was to become the standard of how software is built. This is not really something you can expect to do during your early startup journey, let alone in an MVP. But you should demonstrate you have the ability to achieve your bigger vision via your early bets. We chose to do this by focusing on IC’s at small startups. We started with the smallest atomic unit of work they actually needed help with: issue tracking.

We knew we wanted our product to demonstrate three values:It should be as fast as possible (local data storage, no page reloads, available offline).It should be modern (keyboard shortcuts, command menu, contextual menus).It should be multiplayer (real-time sync and teammates presence).

Remember, you’re likely not building a revolutionary or novel product. You’re unlikely to go viral with your announcement, so you need a network of people who understand the “why” behind your product to help spread the word to drive people to sign up. Any product category has many people who are frustrated with the existing tools or ways of working. Ideally you find and are able to reach out to those people.

Once you have a bunch of people on your waitlist, you need to invite the right users at each stage of your iteration. You want to invite people who are likely to be happy with the limited set of features you’ve built so far. Otherwise, they’ll churn straight away and you’ll learn nothing.

To recap:Narrow down your initial audience and build for them: Figure out who you're building the product for and make the target audience as small as possible before expanding.Build and leverage your waitlist: The waitlist is the grinding stone with which you can sharpen your idea into something truly valuable that will succeed at market, so use it effectively.Trust your gut and validate demand with your users: Talk, talk, talk to your users and find out how invested in the product they are (and if they’d be willing to pay)

The New Yorker contains empty frames that can be filled by whatever a series of unknown adtech companies decide is the best fit for me based on the slice of my browsing history they collect, like little spies with snippets of information. If it were a direct partnership to share advertising slots, at least we could imply that a reader of both may see them as similarly trustworthy organizations, given that they read both. But this is not a decision between the New Yorker and the Times. There may be a dozen other companies involved in selecting the ad, most of which a typical user has never heard of. How much do you, reader, trust Adara, Dataxu, GumGum, MadHive, Operative, SRAX, Strossle, TelMar, or Vertoz?

As important as it is for users to confirm who is collecting their data and for what purpose, it is more important that there are limits on the use and distribution of collected information. This sea of data is simply too much to keep track of.

Bloomberg reporters are evaluated and receive bonuses tied to reporting market-moving news. They’re incentivized financially to make mountains out of molehills, and craters out of divots, to maximize the immediate effect of their reporting on stock prices. And Bloomberg appends these stock price movements right there in their reports, to drive home the notion that Bloomberg publishes market-moving news, so maybe you too should spend over $2,000 per month on a Bloomberg Terminal so that you can receive news reports from Bloomberg minutes before the general public, and buy, sell, and short stocks based on that news

kjellsbells 33 minutes ago | next [–] I've often wondered if the traditions around warfare that we read about in ancient classics like the Iliad were intended to reduce PTSD. For example, after every military action, there are always games and feasts, with a lot of communal time with fellow survivors and some "play re-enactment" like boxing matches or running races. The soldiers never, ever just demobilize and go home to their homesteads. Mental phenomena like disturbing dreams are taken seriously (albeit through the lens of the religious practice of the time) and openly discussed.

That other people tried your idea without success could imply it’s a bad idea or simply that the timing or execution was wrong. Distinguishing between these cases is hard and where you should apply serious thought. If you think your competitors executed poorly, you should develop a theory of what they did wrong and how you’ll do better.

If you think your competitor’s timing was off, you should have a thesis about what’s changed to make now the right time. These changes could come in a variety of forms: for example, it could be that users have become more sophisticated, the prices of key inputs have dropped, or that prerequisite technologies have become widely adopted.

Startups are primarly competing against indifference, lack of awareness, and lack of understanding — not other startups.

There were probably 50 companies that tried to do viral video sharing before YouTube. Before 2005, when YouTube was founded, relatively few users had broadband and video cameras. YouTube also took advantage of the latest version of Flash that could play videos seamlessly.

Google and Facebook launched long after their competitors, but executed incredibly well and focused on the right things. When Google launched, other search engines like Yahoo, Excite, and Lycos were focused on becoming multipurpose “portals” and had de-prioritized search (Yahoo even outsourced their search technology).

Imagine, for example, that you were thinking of starting Netflix back when it was founded in 1997. How would content providers, distribution channels, and competitors respond? How soon would technology develop to open a hidden door and let you distribute online instead of by mail? Or consider Dropbox in 2007. Dozens of cloud storage companies had been started before. What mistakes had they made? How would incumbents like Amazon and Google respond? How would new platforms like mobile affect you?

When you’re starting out, it’s impossible to completely map out the idea maze. But there are some places you can look for help: History. If your idea has been tried before (and almost all good ideas have), you should figure out what the previous attempts did right and wrong. A lot of this knowledge exists only in the brains of practitioners, which is one of many reasons why “stealth mode” is a bad idea. The benefits of learning about the maze generally far outweigh the risks of having your idea stolen. Analogy. You can also build the maze by analogy to similar businesses. If you are building a “peer economy” company it can be useful to look at what Airbnb did right. If you are building a marketplace you should understand eBay’s beginnings. Etc.

Muse as a brand and a product represented something aspirational. People want to be deeper thinkers, to be more strategic, and to use cool, status-quo challenging software made by small passionate teams. These kinds of aspirations are easier to indulge in times of plenty. But once you're getting laid off from your high-paying tech job, or struggling to raise your next financing round, or scrambling to protect your kids' college fund from runaway inflation and uncertain markets... I guess you don't have time to be excited about cool demos on Twitter and thoughtful podcasts on product design.

I’d speculate that another factor is the half-life of cool new productivity software. Evernote, Slack, Notion, Roam, Craft, and many others seem to get pretty far on community excitement for their first few years. After that, I think you have to be left with software that serves a deep and hard-to-replace purpose in people’s lives. Muse got there for a few thousand people, but the economics of prosumer software means that just isn’t enough. You need tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, to make the cost of development sustainable.

We envisioned Muse as the perfect combination of the freeform elements of a whiteboard, the structured text-heavy style of Notion or Google Docs, and the sense of place you get from a “virtual office” ala group chat. As a way to asynchronously trade ideas and inspiration, sketch out project ideas, and explore possibilities, the multiplayer Muse experience is, in my honest opinion, unparalleled for small creative teams working remotely.

But friction began almost immediately. The team lead or organizer was usually the one bringing Muse to the team, and they were already a fan of its approach. But the other team members are generally a little annoyed to have to learn any new tool, and Muse’s steeper learning curve only made that worse. Those team members would push the problem back to the team lead, treating them as customer support (rather than contacting us directly for help). The team lead often felt like too much of the burden of pushing Muse adoption was on their shoulders. This was in addition to the obvious product gaps, like: no support for the web or Windows; minimal or no integration with other key tools like Notion and Google Docs; and no permissions or support for multiple workspaces. Had we raised $10M back during the cash party of 2020–2021, we could have hired the 15+ person team that would have been necessary to build all of that. But with only seven people (we had added two more people to the team in 2021–2022), it just wasn’t feasible.

We neither focused on a particular vertical (academics, designers, authors...) or a narrow use case (PDF reading/annotation, collaborative whiteboarding, design sketching...). That meant we were always spread pretty thin in terms of feature development, and marketing was difficult even over and above the problem of explaining canvas software and digital thinking tools.

being general-purpose was in its blood from birth. Part of it was maker's hubris: don't we always dream of general-purpose tools that will be everything to everyone? And part of it was that it's truly the case that Muse excels at the ability to combine together so many different related knowledge tasks and media types into a single, minimal, powerful canvas. Not sure what I would do differently here, even with the benefit of hindsight.

Muse built a lot of its reputation on being principled, but we were maybe too cautious to do the mercenary things that help you succeed. A good example here is asking users for ratings; I felt like this was not to user benefit and distracting when the user is trying to use your app. Our App Store rating was on the low side (~3.9 stars) for most of our existence. When we finally added the standard prompt-for-rating dialog, it instantly shot up to ~4.7 stars. This was a small example of being too principled about doing good for the user, and not thinking about what would benefit our business.

Growing the team slowly was a delight. At several previous ventures, I've onboard people in the hiring-is-job-one environment of a growth startup. At Muse, we started with three founders and then hired roughly one person per year. This was absolutely fantastic for being able to really take our time to find the perfect person for the role, and then for that person to have tons of time to onboard and find their footing on the team before anyone new showed up. The resulting team was the best I've ever worked on, with minimal deadweight or emotional baggage.

ultimately your product does have to have some web presence. My biggest regret is not building a simple share-to-web function early on, which could have created some virality and a great deal of utility for users as well.

In terms of development speed, quality of the resulting product, hardware integration, and a million other things: native app development wins.

After decades working in product development, being on the marketing/brand/growth/storytelling side was a huge personal challenge for me. But I feel like I managed to grow into the role and find my own approach (podcasting, demo videos, etc) to create a beacon to attract potential customers to our product.

when it comes time for an individual or a team to sit down and sketch out the beginnings of a new business, a new book, a new piece of art—this almost never happens at a computer. Or if it does, it’s a cobbled-together collection of tools like Google Docs and Zoom which aren’t really made for this critical part of the creative lifecycle.

any given business will find a small number of highly-effective channels, and the rest don't matter. For Heroku, that was attending developer conferences and getting blog posts on Hacker News. For another business it might be YouTube influencer sponsorships and print ads in a niche magazine. So I set about systematically testing many channels.

Gerwig is drawn to the “euphorically dreamlike” quality of Lewis’ writing. “It’s connected to the folklore and fairy stories of England, but it’s a combination of different traditions,” she says.“As a child, you accept the whole thing—that you’re in this land of Narnia, there’s fauns, and then Father Christmas shows up. It doesn’t even occur to you that it’s not schematic. I’m interested in embracing the paradox of the worlds that Lewis created, because that’s what’s so compelling about them.”

The most powerful thing a product can do is give its user a premise.1 A premise is the foundational belief that shapes a user’s behavior. A premise can normalize actions that people otherwise might not take, held back by some existing norm

AirBnb. The premise: It’s ok to stay in strangers’ homes.

the idea of staying in strangers’ homes for short stays was doubted even by the founders. Crashing in someone’s spare room wasn’t unheard of, but it might be seen as weird, taboo, or even dangerous.

Bumble. The premise: It’s ok for women to ask men out.

The best way to follow through on a premise is to make it the core feature of the app. Bumble did, requiring that women make the first move on the app. A woman would be presented with a list of her matches and would have to make the first "move" before men could reply. This of course became a powerful differentiating feature and marketing hook.

Substack. The premise: It’s ok to charge for your writing.

Substack's premise aimed to normalize the hardest part of internet writing: getting paid. They aimed to show that independent authors could succeed at making a living (and subscription models aligned with this ethos). In doing so, Substack also made the less-hard parts of internet writing even easier. You could start a newsletter and keep it free until you felt confident about going paid. This not only normalized the end goal but also lowered the barrier to getting started.

A premise is valuable not only for “products,” but also for experiences.As I recently shouted, people still underestimate the power of giving a social event a premise. Hackathons, housewarmings, happy hours and the like are hangouts with a narrative. They have a good premise — a specific context that makes it more comfortable to do something that can be hard: socialize. (Side note: some of the best tv series and films are built on great premises.)

Premises work best on end consumers, prosumers, small business freelancers, and the like. Many two-sided marketplaces serving two of these stakeholder groups tend to have a good premise. For example, Kickstarter's premise for the creator might be: It’s ok to ask for money before you've built a product.

when they aren’t hallucinating, what they’re capable of is still impressive, though it’s a bit like watching a dog walk around on two legs — fun, but not exactly an efficient way to get around.

It was my brother, the lawyer, who pointed out that what I had experienced sounded a lot like a coerced confession. “I read enough transcripts of bad interrogations in law school to understand that anyone can be convinced that they have a very narrow set of terrible options,” he said. When I posed this theory to Saul Kassin, a psychology professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice who studies coerced confessions, he agreed.

“If someone is trying to get you to be compliant, they do it incrementally, in a series of small steps that take you farther and farther from what you know to be true,” he said. “It’s not about breaking the will. They were altering the sense of reality.” And when you haven’t done anything wrong, the risk of cooperating feels minimal, he added. An innocent person thinks everything will get sorted out. It also mattered that I was kept on the phone for so long. People start to break down cognitively after a few hours of interrogation. “At that point, they’re not thinking straight. They feel the need to put an end to the situation at all costs,” Kassin said.