It’s been nearly a year since my last post. I’ve hesitated to write because I get so caught up in what I should say that I never actually start. This time, though, I opened a blank text editor with a single goal: to write about how developing a product feels like navigating a maze.
The empty title field stares back at me, almost daring me to stop before I’ve even begun. “Don’t bother writing this,” it seems to say, “until you’ve figured out exactly what it is you want to say.” And maybe it’s right—this first version probably won’t be worth sharing. I might never share it. But even so, I’m pressing forward, trying to let the words flow and quiet the editor in my head.
Here’s the gist: building software is like walking through a maze. Somewhere at its center lies the “perfect product.” You take one path that seems promising — it leads closer to the center — but it ends in a dead end. You try again, another route, and another. Each brings you closer, but none gets you all the way there.
The real challenge comes when you need to leave a local maximum, a spot that feels good enough but isn’t quite it. If your product already has users, the stakes are higher. You can’t just let things get worse while you course-correct. Instead, you have to split your focus: keep everything working as it is while figuring out a new path that takes you closer to the elusive center.
It reminds me of the maze in Westworld — a symbol of self-discovery and mastery, where every twist and turn is part of the journey toward something greater. Like that maze, product development isn’t just about reaching the center; it’s about learning, adapting, and finding the courage to keep moving forward, even when the path isn’t clear.