In May, we were still deep into our first version of Integrations as a Template. It was the point where we wanted to see if what we were building actually mattered.
No ads, no growth hacks. Just the simplest and hardest question a startup can ask: Do people care enough to use this?
Y Combinator calls this “the only thing that matters”, in other words finding something people truly want. We weren’t there yet, but we wanted to see if we were navigating in the right direction (somewhere).
We decided to reach out to Reddit communities full of indie hackers, solo founders, and early-stage devs. Our goal was feedback, not sales. We wanted to test if our product resonated. Spoiler: the right word here is story, not product. That turned to be one of those early lessons you don't read about, but you only learn by doing.
But our post came off a bit too polished, a little bit too “marketing.” Reddit isn’t a place for campaigns. It’s a place for curiosity and honesty. We learned that lesson quickly.
Still, we got a few signals: a handful of devs starred our repo, some followed our work, and a few even messaged us privately. It wasn’t traction, but it was valuable attention. And attention, when you’re early, is the start of every insight.
Looking back, we were a little idealistic: thinking a couple of posts for a couple of days could spark real validation. But that’s what early founders do: you hope the world sees what you see, even if the timing’s not right yet.
Alongside the Reddit push, we launched our early access campaign. Fifty spots for early adopters, a big discount, and a private Discord group with direct input on our roadmap.
It sounded great on paper: exclusive, rewarding, early. But one developer’s comment gave us the best possible feedback:
“Feels like you’re holding something back. Like there’s not enough of you in it. It looks like you just want to build something fast, make some money, and get others to help. But I don’t really feel who’s behind this.”
That hit harder than we expected. Because the developer wasn't wrong.
We weren’t showing our faces. We weren’t sharing why we were building this. We weren't sharing our story. It felt like the right feedback on the right time: our intentions were good, but our story didn’t match.
It reminded us of something Sam Altman once said: "The best companies are almost always personal." If people couldn't see the people behind the product, how could they ever connect to it?
Even though the feedback wasn’t massive, it was meaningful. It made us stop, reflect, and question our story.
Startups are told to “launch fast.” And that’s true, speed does matter. But as Paul Graham wrote, “It’s not speed that kills startups, it’s direction.” We realized we were sprinting without full clarity on where we wanted to go.
So we paused.
During the summer, we rebuilt quietly. We refined what mattered most: transparency, clarity, and community. We decided that our identity would start with open-source, not end with it.
We’d open-source our strategy, our design process, and even our mistakes, because those are the parts of the journey that truly build trust.
In the fall, we’ll try again. This time, when it feels right. We're thinking to post something on Hacker News (when we do you'll read about it right here).
Experiments & Accidents isn’t a showcase of success. It’s a record of lessons we learned: one post, one misstep, one reflection but all with direction.
If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s this: momentum is only real when it’s built on honesty.