For most of my career, I believed something a lot of technical people quietly believe:
If you build something genuinely good, people will notice.
Clean code. Good UX. Fast performance. Real value.
Surely that should be enough.
It was not.
The Belief That Broke
My background was mostly in frontend, UI, and later full stack work. For years, I thought like a builder first: make the product better, make the system stronger, and the results will follow.
That belief feels rational, especially when you spend most of your time around other technical people.
But the moment you try to build something outside your job, you run into a different reality:
good work does not automatically create attention.
Why I Started Questioning It
Then the market changed.
AI got better. Layoffs became more common. More teams started doing more with fewer people. More non-technical people started building tools and workflows with AI.
At the same time, I kept hearing the same kind of quiet anxiety from people in tech:
“Every quarter we have another meeting where they announce the team will shrink again.”
That pushed me into a question I had avoided for a long time:
If being a good developer is no longer enough, what else do I need to become?
The Wrong Assumption
When I started building things outside my job, I made a very common mistake.
I thought quality would create demand.
I thought if I made something useful, polished, and technically strong, people would come. Maybe through referrals, word of mouth, or “organic growth.”
It sounds reasonable.
It is also one of the biggest lies builders tell themselves.
A good product does not create traffic by itself.
A good website does not create attention by itself.
A good app does not create customers by itself.
What good software does is this:
once people arrive, it helps convert, retain, and impress them.
But first, people have to arrive.
That is where marketing starts.
What Frustrated Me About Marketing
When I started taking marketing seriously, it felt frustratingly vague.
As developers, we are used to practical steps:
install this, configure this, test this, fix this.
Marketing felt full of advice like:
- post consistently
- know your audience
- provide value
- build your brand
None of that is wrong.
But when you are starting, it can feel too abstract to act on.
So I approached marketing the same way I eventually learned programming:
- learn the concepts
- understand the mental models
- test things in the real world
- keep what works
- stop confusing theory with progress
That changed the way I looked at it.
The Hardest Lesson
The hardest lesson was this:
building something good and getting attention for it are two different skills.
A lot of technical people overvalue creation and undervalue distribution. I did too.
We assume the hard part is making the product.
Sometimes it is.
But often the harder part is making the right people aware that it exists, understand why it matters, and trust it enough to try it.
I also had another wrong assumption:
I thought that if I wanted a problem solved badly enough, a lot of other people probably wanted the same thing.
Sometimes that is true.
Often it is not.
A lot of developer-built products are polished versions of our own frustrations. That is not automatically bad, but it is not the same thing as market demand.
To understand what other people actually need, you have to do something many developers avoid:
talk to people. A lot of them.
Where Developers Still Have an Advantage
The interesting part is that once I stopped expecting software to market itself, I started seeing a different advantage.
Developers are not automatically good at marketing.
But good developers do have one big advantage:
we are trained to think in systems.
And that matters more than I expected.
Because once you move past the surface-level idea of marketing, a lot of it becomes a question of structure:
- what happens before attention
- what happens after someone clicks
- where people drop off
- what gets measured
- what creates friction
That was familiar territory.
I stopped seeing marketing as “making posts” and started seeing it as part communication, part systems design, part customer understanding.
That made it much easier to take seriously.
What I Believe Now
I no longer believe that good software markets itself.
I believe this instead:
- good software matters once attention already exists
- distribution is a real skill, not an afterthought
- understanding business makes technical work more valuable
- talking to customers beats guessing
- building is important, but it is not the whole game
The market is getting noisier. More people can create. More tools reduce the gap. More companies buy outcomes, not technical elegance.
So the question is no longer just:
Can you build it?
It is also:
Can you understand who it is for, why it matters, and how it reaches the right people?
That is the shift I am trying to make now.
And honestly, I think more developers should make it too.
What changed your perspective more: building products, or trying to get people to care about them?
