标签：#buildinpublic

I'm building PetSignal — a browser-based AI that reads dog and cat body language from a photo and flags stress signals (whale eye, freezing, lip curl) before they escalate. It's a solo project, the core purchase is a $2.99 credit pack, and that one number dictates the entire growth strategy. Here's the math that rules everything: at a ~$3-10 one-time AOV, paid ads can never work. US pet-niche CPC runs $0.5-2; even at optimistic conversion rates you're paying $50+ to acquire a $3 customer. So the product lives or dies on organic search. That constraint turned out to be a gift — it forced me to treat SEO as an engineering discipline with real feedback loops instead of a checklist. Twenty-eight days of Search Console data later: 230 clicks, 15,953 impressions, and impressions in the second half up 105% over the first. Small numbers, real slope. These are the five things the data actually taught me. 1. Symptom pages beat product pages — but not the way I expected My content engine is ~35 "symptom pages": Dog Opening and Closing Mouth Repeatedly , Cat Whale Eye , Cat Breathing Fast . Each one answers a moment of owner anxiety that ends with a photo the owner has already taken — which is exactly what the product analyzes. The surprise: one page carries 54% of all clicks. Not the homepage, not the tool pages — a page about dogs opening and closing their mouths. Meanwhile my four "commercial" analyzer pages have CTRs of 6-9% (site average: 1.8%) but almost no impressions. The lesson: content pages find demand, commercial pages convert it, and internal links are the pipe between them. I spent a day rebalancing internal links after realizing my refund policy — sitemap priority 0.4 — carried roughly twice as many site-wide links as any commercial page, while the general-purpose analyzer had exactly zero editorial links pointing at it. 2. Every page is data, not HTML All 35 symptom pages live in one TypeScript file as structured objects: title, quickAnswer, sections, tables, re

I'm a solo dev with zero users right now, and I just spent an afternoon on a decision most people would've hardcoded in five minutes. Here's the setup. NotebookBloom is my Chrome extension for Google's NotebookLM. At launch I don't want to charge for much — I want people to actually use it, tell a friend, leave a review. So the plan is: only cloud sync (Google Drive backup) is Pro on day one. Everything else — flashcard export to Anki, citation export, bulk import — free. But "free on day one" implies "not free forever." Once there are enough users, I want to flip some of those to paid, one at a time, watching what happens. And that's where I hit a wall that only exists for extensions: there is no server runtime. My extension runs in the user's browser. So if I write "is this feature paid?" as a hardcoded if in my code, then flipping it later means: edit code → rebuild → upload to the Chrome Web Store → wait for review[你查到的审核时长，如 "usually under a day, sometimes 3"]. Think about that. A pricing change — arguably the most business-critical lever I have — would be stuck in a review queue. That's absurd. So I stopped and rebuilt it as a switch. One file, features.ts , with a single decision function: canUse(feature, isPro, gates) → isPro OR the feature isn't currently gated Four flippable keys: cloudSync, ankiExport, citationExport, bulkImport. The default (compiled into the extension) is: cloudSync = paid, the rest = free. That's my day-one tiering. The switch values live in my Cloudflare Worker's KV. To flip Anki export to paid, I change one KV value — no rebuild, no store review. Every user picks it up within a day. The part I'm quietly proud of: it costs zero extra requests. The extension already calls /status to check "does this Google account have a subscription?" (you can't trust the client to self-report that — that's how you get pirated). I just piggybacked the switch values onto that same response. The paywall config rides along on a request I was already maki

Two weeks ago I wrote here that I killed my SaaS subscription 7 days after launch and rebuilt it as a buy-once product. I ended that post with a promise written down before I could talk myself out of it: 3 real purchases in 14 days of relaunch, or I move on and leave UIPrompt in maintenance mode. Either way I would post the numbers. The 14 days are up. Here are the numbers. Purchases: 0. New organic signups during the window: 0. The last real signup was a free account three days before the relaunch even went live. They looked once and never came back. So by my own written bar, this is a move-on. UIPrompt goes to maintenance mode today. I want to be useful about why, because "it didn't sell" is a result, not a lesson. What I did in those 14 days Quite a lot. That turns out to be part of the problem. I shipped a real product. The buy-once model was clean: a free playground with no signup, one $39 price, and an AI Design System Pack export that survives a blind test (a fresh AI session got only the exported files and matched 34 of 34 specced properties, inventing zero colors). I bought a custom domain. I launched on Product Hunt with a video, posted a Show HN, cross-posted the pivot article, made a 20-second promo video in Remotion with licensed music, put it on YouTube and X, and submitted to Peerlist, Dev Hunt, Indie Hackers, SaaSHub, and a stack of directories. None of it produced a single sale. Not one. The lesson I did not want On the first launch I blamed pricing. I killed the subscription, and I was right that a burst-usage tool should not bill monthly. But here is the uncomfortable part: fixing the pricing changed nothing, because pricing was never the binding constraint. Demand was. Two different pricing models, same zero, should have told me the problem lived upstream of the checkout page the whole time. I was tuning the part of the funnel I could see and control (the offer) while the actual leak was at the top: not enough of the right people, with pain acute

Introduction For the last few weeks, I’ve been running a small experiment. Instead of building another SaaS startup or chasing investors, I decided to build a simple website around AI tools and document everything publicly. No team. No marketing budget. No SEO agency. Just curiosity, consistency, and a lot of trial and error. I genuinely want to answer one question: Can a small AI website still grow organically in 2026? ⸻ Why I Started AI tools are everywhere now. Every day another directory, another “best AI tools” list, another comparison website appears. Most people say it’s already too late. Maybe they’re right. I wanted to find out myself instead of trusting opinions. So I bought a domain and started building. ⸻ My Rules To make the experiment interesting, I gave myself a few restrictions. No buying backlinks. No paid traffic. No huge content team. No publishing hundreds of AI-generated articles. Everything has to be something I would actually publish. Quality first. ⸻ The First Product Instead of only writing articles, I decided the website should also offer something genuinely useful. The first tool is a free AI Background Remover. Nothing revolutionary. But it solves a real problem in a few seconds, and that felt like a better starting point than another generic blog post. ⸻ What I’ve Learned So Far The biggest surprise wasn’t building the tool. It was realizing how much work happens after pressing “Publish.” Indexing. Technical SEO. Site structure. Internal linking. Performance. Small details matter far more than I expected. ⸻ The Goal I’m not trying to build the next unicorn. I simply want to see whether a small independent website can still earn organic traffic by creating useful content and useful tools. If it works, great. If it fails, I’ll document that too. Either way, I’ll share the results. ⸻ Try the Tool If you’re curious, you can try the first tool here: 👉 https://letomix.com/free-tools/background-remover/ I’d genuinely appreciate any feedback.

You correct someone once. Not perfectly, but they get it. Next time, they do not make the same mistake. That is not optimism. That is just how correction works, "with people". I worked with agents on that assumption for a long time before I even noticed I was doing it. The plan that never held Before I had a single written rule anywhere, I would open a new session and ask for a plan first. Resolve the edge cases before touching a line of code, I said. The agent would agree, in whatever way a chat window agrees, and go straight to implementation anyway. I corrected it. Same session, it adjusted. New session, next day, same repo, same everything except the chat history: straight to implementation again. Every single time! So I did what looked reasonable. I wrote the plan myself. I resolved the edge cases myself, the open questions, the gaps the agent skipped past on its way to code. ' Tedious ' is the polite word for it. I was doing the one task I brought the agent in to do, and calling it collaboration. The same recipe, again The second correction arrived the same way. Every repo had its own shape. A recipe, a standard, a way things were supposed to be built here and not there. I would explain it. Full session, good results, the agent following the standard like it understood the standard. New session. Same repo, sometimes the new repo. Explain it again. Word for word, close enough. It was not that the agent forgot how to code. It was that nothing from the last conversation traveled with it into this one. Nothing said in the chat survives it I kept treating this like a training problem. Say it clearer. Say it earlier. Say it with an example next time. None of that was wrong exactly. It was aimed at the wrong layer. The actual mistake was assuming correction compounds the way it does with a person. It does not. A person carries what you told them into the next conversation without being asked to. An agent starts the next session exactly where it started the first one.

Published on Feb 16th, 2023 My solar e nergy startup platform FasoLara has reached a new milestone recently and I decided to start a new blog series about it! The project management platform has been a long journey since I published my first commit to GitHub in October 2020. What started based on a simple idea quickly became a behemoth of a software engineering project for my beginner programmer skills. I have poured thousands of hours into research, tutorials and coding to figure out how to put something like this together. Since then, I have made multiple changes to the FasoLara repository. The platform is currently open source, but I am using a private fork to publish the 3 different components to the Vercel platform. I had a basic demo of the admin dashboard with 6 pages before I removed all the sample data, then upgraded everything to the app directory in NextJS 13 and connected the dashboard to the backend server featuring Apollo GraphQL server v4. Yesterday, February 15th, 2023, I added Next-Auth to handle authentication. Initial testing of the next-auth version seems to work with the appDir in Next.JS 13. It is far from the login experience that I want. It will take more effort to iron out the details because proper documentation is still rare Lots of testing needs to be done Although I have successfully connected the Cypress testing framework to the frontend app, I have yet to do the same on the admin app. I am managing a lot of complexity with lots of new packages. Every mistake under the sun I have lost count of how many times I made breaking changes to the code base trying to implement new features on the main branch only to hard reset the branch after tens of hours of work that I could have done on a new branch instead. I can say that I am moving fast and breaking things per facebook's motto! Mobile app on the backburner I have 3 sample pages that I made on the mobile application. I would have liked to have at least a fully functional landing page on th

Honestly I almost didn't build this because everyone said "just make a normal portfolio, resume + project cards, keep it simple." But that felt fake to me. Like I'd be hiding the actual messy part of learning to code and just showing the highlight reel. So instead I built whoisrehan.vercel.app — it's less of a portfolio and more of me walking you through everything, starting from the first time I opened a code editor with literally no idea what I was doing, all the way to now. Including the stuff that usually gets left out — the projects that didn't work, the times I wanted to quit, the small wins that felt huge at the time. It's not polished. It's just honest. If you've ever started something with zero plan and just pure curiosity, I think you'll get it. whoisrehan.vercel.app Curious which part actually hits you if you check it out : BuildInPublic #WebDevelopment #DeveloperJourney

I shipped GoGBA (Android + iOS) to both stores in late December 2025. Six months in: MAU peaked at 8.3k, currently steady around 7.4k. No paid advertising, ever. This is a write-up of what the six months actually involved. I'll be specific about the technical work, and equally specific about the mistake that cost me RetroAchievements hardcore certification — because that part is the most useful thing here for anyone building in this space. Why GBA only I grew up on a GBA — Super Robot Wars, Fire Emblem, Pokémon, Castlevania, Zelda. Later NDS/3DS/PSP/Vita/Switch arrived and the GBA did its job and retired. On PC the emulator I remember is VisualBoyAdvance. I've used GBA, NDS and PSP emulators on phones. I kept coming back to GBA, for four reasons that are all practical rather than nostalgic: Pixel art holds up. Personal taste, no defense offered. Battery. A GBA game survives a long-haul flight. Single screen. The remaining screen space is exactly where virtual buttons want to go. NDS dual-screen on a phone is always a compromise. ROM hacks. The GBA hack scene is the richest of any handheld. Point 3 is the one that made me build something: GBA is the only handheld whose form factor natively fits a phone. That's a product observation, not sentiment. What existing emulators get wrong (for me) I used the main ones on both platforms: Delta and Linkboy on iOS; Pizzaboy, Linkboy and Lemuroid on Android. Lemuroid is open source and a lot of shipped emulators are built on it. They're all good. Every one of them had small things that annoyed me. The only genuinely cross-platform one is Linkboy (formerly MyBoy), but its configuration surface is extremely deep — second only to RetroArch in complexity. That's the gap. Everyone was solving "can it run" and "can it be tuned perfectly." Nobody was solving "pick it up and play." The methodology was just dogfooding I'm a Flutter GDE and tech lead for a 40-person cross-platform team; GoGBA was a solo test of that experience. The only r

Two weeks ago I had never run an AI model on my own machine. Every project I had ever built phoned a...

I build products solo. Every single one of them sits on top of somebody else's API — Stripe for payments, OpenAI and Anthropic for AI features, Meta for ads, print-on-demand APIs, map APIs. My code is maybe half of what actually runs in production. The other half belongs to vendors, and it changes whenever they decide it changes. Twice this year the first notice I got about a breaking change was a production error. Not an email, not a warning. An error, and then me digging through the vendor's changelog trying to figure out what they changed and when. The information was public the whole time. It was sitting in a changelog page I never visit, because nobody visits changelog pages until something is on fire. So I'm building the thing I wanted to exist BreakWatch is simple: you tell it which APIs your product depends on, and it reads their public changelogs for you. It fetches each changelog page once a day Diffs it against yesterday's snapshot Classifies the real changes: breaking (endpoint removed, field deprecated, "migrate by September") vs. informational (new feature, docs clarification — stuff you can ignore) Alerts you only when something looks like it will break an existing integration Keeps everything in a searchable timeline, so six months later "what changed on their side right before this broke" takes ten seconds instead of an afternoon No SDK, no credentials, nothing installed in your codebase. It only reads public pages. What I tested this week I ran it against the real changelogs of the ten APIs I'm watching first: Stripe, Twilio, OpenAI, Anthropic, Shopify, GitHub, Slack, Cloudflare, Google Maps and Plaid. Some honest findings: 10/10 scrape cleanly now, but it took fixes. Stripe's changelog page alone is 3.3 MB. SendGrid's standalone changelog doesn't exist anymore (it merged into Twilio's). PayPal's developer site serves a JavaScript shell with an HTTP 404 to anything that isn't a full browser, so it's out until I add rendering. The thing I was most a

Shipped this week Workflows are now a first-class Bizbox primitive — PR #86 · v2026.603.0 The biggest drop this week. @DennisDenuto landed Workflows as a company-scoped concept that sits alongside issues and routines — not shoehorned into either. What that means in practice: Google ADK-backed execution — workflow pipelines run as ADK agents, with phase state persisted as run records. Human handoffs baked in — pipelines can pause and wait for a human before resuming. Deliverables that survive — artefacts from each run are persisted and surfaced in the UI. A pipeline graph in the UI — topologically ordered, showing live phase state and console output. This is the foundation. More on what we can build on top of it below. Workflow human-handoffs now route through ClickUp — PR #91 · v2026.605.0 The day after Workflows landed, @angelofallars wired up the last kilometre: when ADK Python code calls input() inside a pipeline, Bizbox now intercepts that call and sends a ClickUp message to collect the human reply — instead of blocking the process forever. A few things that were fixed along the way: input() monkey-patching now works consistently across Python environments (was silently failing in some setups). Failed workflow runs no longer submit deliverables. You only see artefacts from runs that actually completed. ClickUp awaiting-human bridge adapter ships as a pure plugin — PR #78 · v2026.601.0 This one technically crossed the line on the last day of May (23:56 UTC, 31 May), so it's in scope. @ralphbibera ported the ClickUp transport and adapter as a genuine plugin — implementing the AwaitingHumanBridgeAdapter registry interface — without touching bridge core at all. What that gives you: ClickUp works through the same provider-agnostic layer as any future provider (Slack, Discord, whatever comes next). The core doesn't know ClickUp exists. Included: send/poll/reaction transport, message templates for request_confirmation and ask_user_questions interactions, brain_is_think

Finished up a solid coding sprint tonight working on Safi-Budget a financial management application built around the 50/30/20 budget framework. I'm currently building and training over at Zone01Kisumu , and getting this build updated and deployed live was the main goal for today's session. What Was Updated Today Localized Currency Logic: Updated the core engine defaults from EUR over to** KES** (Kenyan Shillings) to better support local financial tracking workflows. Auth Flow Refinements:** Ironed out session management and routing logic to ensure clean sign-in and logout behavior across the app. Containerization & Deployment:** Confirmed the Go backend containerizes smoothly with Docker and runs cleanly on Render. Tech Stack Language: Go (Golang) Containerization: Docker Deployment Platform: Render Live Demo & Link You can test out the live deployment here: 👉 Safi Budget Engine Live App

The feature was supposed to be the easy one. NotebookLM generates flashcards. My extension reads them...

A few months ago, I was searching for a backend engineering job. Every day looked the same: Open LinkedIn Open Naukri Search for Python jobs Open dozens of tabs Read every job description Apply Repeat The frustrating part wasn't finding jobs. It was finding the right jobs . I kept getting recommendations for roles that technically matched my resume because they contained words like Python , Backend , or API , but after reading the description I'd realize they wanted a completely different skill set. I started wondering: Why are job boards still matching keywords instead of understanding what a developer actually knows? That question eventually turned into a side project called Jobspiq . The Problem Imagine these two jobs: Job A Python FastAPI PostgreSQL Redis Job B Java Spring Boot Oracle Kafka Both are "Backend Engineer" roles. A keyword-based system often treats them as similar. As developers, we know they're not. What I Built Instead of matching keywords, I built a system that compares a developer's profile with a job description to understand how well they actually fit. The platform: Collects jobs from multiple sources. Removes duplicate postings. Scores every job based on how closely it matches your profile. Sends alerts only for high-quality matches. Helps track applications in one place. The goal isn't to show more jobs. It's to show fewer, better ones. What I Learned Building the product taught me something interesting. Writing the software was the easier part. Helping people discover it is much harder. That's why I'm starting to build in public and share what I'm learning along the way. If you've ever built search systems, recommendation engines, or developer tools, I'd love to hear your thoughts. You can check out the project here: https://jobspiq.in Feedback is always welcome.

I'm not an engineer. I built a prompt-structuring tool anyway, using Claude Code — here's what actually went wrong 🤔 The problem I don't write code. I'm not an engineer, day to day — but I use AI chatbots constantly, and I kept running into the same annoying pattern. I'd type something lazy into ChatGPT or Claude — half a sentence, no context, whatever came to mind first — and get back a mediocre answer. Then, later, I'd realize: if I'd just written a slightly better prompt, I probably would've gotten a much better answer on the first try. Instead I'd burned a chunk of my monthly quota (sometimes on a paid plan) on something forgettable. I figured other people had to be doing the same thing. So I built something for it. 💡 What I built It's called Deep Prompt Studio . You paste in a rough, unpolished prompt — the kind you'd type without thinking too hard — and it hands back a detailed version that pulls in whichever pieces actually matter for that request: role, task, constraints, output format, and more. It's not tuned for one specific chatbot; it's meant to work well whether you're pasting the result into ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, or something else. https://deep-prompt-studio.vercel.app 🛠 Tech stack Next.js (App Router, Turbopack) + TypeScript Tailwind CSS Anthropic Claude API for the actual prompt enhancement Stripe for payments Upstash Redis for storage Deployed on Vercel ⚙️ How it works Tone selector — Default, Professional, Casual & friendly, Concise, Direct Target-model optimization — Generic, ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, Midjourney Snippets — save reusable context/tone/role info and toggle them on or off per enhance (free: up to 3, Pro: unlimited) Variable fill-in — template placeholders like {{product name}} you can reuse Refine mode — if your prompt is too vague, it asks a couple of follow-up questions before enhancing, instead of guessing Template gallery — writing, coding, business, learning, SEO, customer support Library — saved enhanced prompts (Pro) Free ti

I run a pipeline that generates explainer articles. LLM in the middle, structured output, published in several languages. It had been running for a while and the articles looked good: clean layout, a chart, and near the top of each one a confident little box with a statistic. Something in the shape of "68% of people never change the default." A number, a source, an authoritative ring to it. Not one of those numbers had been researched. The pipeline had never looked up a single statistic in its life. It asked the model for a number and printed whatever came back. I did not find this through a clever eval. I found it while cleaning up something unrelated and actually reading the prompt. The field that forced a lie The output schema had a required field. statistic.text and statistic.source , described in the prompt as an "eye-catching stat" for the top of the article. Required. Every article had to have one. The prompt also, helpfully, told the model what to do when it did not have a real number. It said to round to a safe order of magnitude. And it said to strip the year off the source, so the article would look evergreen instead of dated. Read that back slowly. The instructions were: always produce a statistic, make up a plausible magnitude if you have to, and remove the one piece of metadata that would let anyone check it. That is not a prompt that occasionally allows a hallucination. That is a prompt that requires one, every single time the model does not happen to know a real figure. So it produced them, confidently, in every language, each wearing a real-sounding source: a named institute, an industry association, a government statistics office. None of it had been looked up when it was written. This was content people actually act on, which is exactly the category where being wrong is not a rounding error. There was a second engine doing the same thing in the chart code. The block that generated the data visualization asked the model for "actual statistics from

A week ago I put a rough, honestly-a-bit-thin version of PulseWatch in front of real people for the first time. Within days, two different strangers — independently, unprompted — found two real gaps in it. Neither was catastrophic. Both were exactly the kind of thing you only find by watching someone else use the thing you built. This is the story of both, and the fixes. Bug one: the run that never ends This first bug came from a friend testing it on a real script. His question was simple: "What happens if start fires twice before end ?" Good question. At the time: nothing good. Here's why. PulseWatch works on two pings — a job calls /start when it begins and /success (or /fail ) when it's done. The server tracks whichever run is currently "open" for a monitor. The bug: if a job's process restarts mid-run — a crash-and-retry, a redeploy that catches it mid-flight, a scheduler firing twice — you get a second /start before the first run ever closes. The old run just sits there, open forever, an orphan with no ending. Worse, because the watchdog was still waiting on that run's expected finish time, it could fire a false "still running" alert for a run that was, for all practical purposes, dead and abandoned. The fix is a small rule with an outsized effect: a new /start supersedes whatever run is currently open. The old run gets marked superseded — a terminal, non-alerting status — and a fresh run begins clean. The watchdog was updated to treat superseded as a dead end: nothing to wait on, nothing to alert about, and it never shows up in a user's run history. It's not a failure and it's not a success. It's just "this run doesn't matter anymore, a newer one replaced it." The logic, roughly: def handle_start ( monitor ): open_run = monitor . get_open_run () if open_run is not None : open_run . status = " superseded " open_run . finished_at = now () new_run = Run ( monitor = monitor , status = " running " , started_at = now ()) db . session . add ( new_run ) db . session .

After I published my last article about building a Chrome extension that speaks browser notifications aloud, a commenter asked a question I didn't have a good answer to. He pointed out that a lot of web apps — Slack, Gmail, most modern tools — fire their notifications from a service worker via registration.showNotification() , not from the page's JavaScript context. My MAIN world override of window.Notification would never reach those. He was right. And I told him I'd look into it. I spent a week researching whether there was any way to close that gap. There isn't. But the reason why is more interesting than a simple "no." Two ways a website can show you a notification When a website sends you a browser notification, it can do it in one of two ways. The first is the constructor path. The page's own JavaScript calls new Notification("You have a message") directly. This is common for in-tab alerts, real-time updates when you're actively on the site, or any notification triggered by something you just did. The second is the push path. The browser receives a push event from the website's server, wakes up the website's service worker in the background, and the service worker calls self.registration.showNotification() from inside its own scope. This is what happens when Slack notifies you of a new message while the tab is closed or backgrounded. The page never runs. No page JavaScript ever fires. My extension catches the first path. The MAIN world content script overrides window.Notification before any page code runs. But the service worker never touches the page's window. It has no window . It runs in a completely isolated thread, completely separate from the page, and calls showNotification on itself. The override is never reached. Why can't the extension reach the service worker? This is the part that took me a week to fully accept. Chrome extensions can inject content scripts into web pages. They can run code in the MAIN world or the ISOLATED world of a page. They can

Marc Lou read a tweet, slept on it, and woke up still annoyed. The tweet, from Pieter Levels, was about all the fake revenue screenshots on X. By the next evening Lou had built a thing to fix it. By the day after that, the thing had made $20,378. That is the part everyone retweets. I want to walk you through it, and then I want to show you the line in his own year-end letter that complicates the whole legend. The setup Lou got fired by Tai Lopez in November 2021, was broke and depressed, and moved to Bali. He started shipping tiny products in public, copying the playbook of, yes, Pieter Levels. His breakout was ShipFast , a Next.js starter kit that did $40,000 in its first month in September 2023. By December 2025 he was running 15 startups generating about $84,900 a month, with cumulative revenue past $2.26 million, per his verified TrustMRR data. The reason I trust his numbers more than most is that he verifies them through Stripe on his own product, TrustMRR , which brings me to the 24-hour story. The moment something worked, absurdly fast TrustMRR exists to kill fake MRR screenshots. You connect a read-only Stripe key, and it shows your verified revenue on a public page nobody can edit. Lou built it in a day on top of his own boilerplate, which is the cheat code here. He was not starting from zero, he was starting from ShipFast. "TrustMRR is 24 hours old and was built in 24 hours." @marc_louvion on X He monetized it with sidebar ad slots. He listed them at $299 a month, then raised the price each time one sold, all the way to $1,499. In his newsletter he wrote that within three days every slot was gone and the side project had made $20,378. He called it the third fastest-growing thing he has ever built. Five days in, he posted the run-rate dream out loud. "20/20 spots filled! TrustMRR went from $0 to $18,380 MRR in 5 days. That's $220,000 ARR if I'm allowed to dream a little" @marc_louvion on X It kept going. By December 2025 TrustMRR was his single biggest inco