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Hey rebel ideapreneurs 🦸♂️🦸♀️
Cora wants to launch a free weekly newsletter about easy soups and stews.
Her pitch is simple: a good soup is the most forgiving meal for a beginner.
She just wants to help tired people get one warm pot on the table.
And her future readers? They want exactly that — comfort food, no complicated recipe.
⛳️ Problem:
Cora has been "researching" her newsletter for eight months. Zero emails sent.
She read 12 newsletters.
She took a 4-hour course.
She bought a domain.
She designed a logo twice.
Eight months in, her audience is still zero. She tells herself it's "not ready." Ouch.
Her frustration: how to ship the first version before she feels ready.
🔥 The recipe
➡️ The embarrassing first version
Picture a cook who won't serve dinner until the kitchen is spotless.
The guests are starving.
The food gets cold on the stove.
Turns out launching works the same way — the wait is the real mistake.
That's the rule Reid Hoffman swears by.
He co-founded LinkedIn, which Microsoft bought for $26 billion.
His take: if your first version doesn't embarrass you, you launched too late.
The point isn't to ship junk.
It's that real feedback beats your imagination every time.
And get this — Hoffman lived it.
When LinkedIn launched in 2003, it was bare.
It ended its first year with 245 members, mostly the founders' own contacts.
He shipped it anyway, then let real users show him what to build next.
🚗 The steps
✂️ Step 1 — Define the embarrassing-but-shippable v1.
Think of a lemonade stand: a jug, a cup, a cardboard sign.
No fancy booth. No menu. It still sells lemonade.
Your v1 is that — the smallest thing a real person still gets value from.
Cora strips it down: one paragraph and one photo of tonight's pot.
No logo. No landing page. She'll send it to 20 friends.
📤 Step 2 — Ship it to real people this week.
A diving board only works one way — you jump before you feel ready.
Stand there thinking about it, and you never leave the edge.
Cora sets Friday at 9pm.
She picks a tiny list.
She texts her sister Thursday, so someone will ask if Friday's email went out.
🔁 Step 3 — Let their reaction write v2.
You don't guess what a soup needs — you let people taste it and tell you.
Their faces say more than any plan in your head.
So Cora sends it.
Six friends reply.
Three want the shopping list up top.
One asks for a vegetarian pot.
That's v2 — written by readers, not by her 2am worry. Now we're talking.
The prompt below will design your embarrassing v1 and the plan to learn from it.
You just tell it the thing you've been "getting ready" to launch.
🧸 Embarrassing v1 + real feedback = the only path past the not-ready loop.
🏄♀️ The prompt
Save this prompt as a Skill or add to Project in your favorite AI tool — build once, use often.
Update your input values in the prompt or just run as is, your AI sidekick will use the example values and will give output.
CONTEXT:
- (use what's available, fall back to the inline values)
- If my Voice Profile exists, write in that voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If my ICP / Audience doc exists, target that reader. Otherwise, use the audience below.
Inputs:
The project I've been "getting ready" to launch (what it is, who it's for, and how many months I've been preparing without shipping):
{e.g. a free weekly newsletter about easy soups and stews — I've been "researching" it for 8 months, bought the domain, designed a logo twice, written exactly zero emails}
What "ready" looks like in my head (the bar I've been waiting to cross — be honest, even if it sounds silly):
{e.g. when I have 10 perfect recipes shot, a custom logo, a designed landing page, and 100 sign-ups before I send anything}
The awkward ceiling (how embarrassing am I willing to let v1 be — pick one: a little awkward / very awkward / mortifying):
{e.g. very awkward}
For Audience: {e.g. tired home cooks who want one warm pot on the table without a recipe marathon}
For Outcome: {e.g. a v1 I can ship in 7 days, a small list to send it to, and a plan for turning their reactions into v2}
Outputs:
1. The embarrassing v1 spec — 4-5 lines naming exactly what v1 is, who gets it, and how it's delivered. Smallest format that still has value (a paragraph, a photo, a 3-line recipe). No logo, no landing page.
2. The ship plan — a specific day and time in the next 7 days, the tiny list to send it to, and the ONE person I'll tell so I can't quietly skip it.
3. The feedback questions — 2-3 plain questions to ask my first readers so their answers (not my imagination) shape v2.
4. The "ready" bar I'm secretly waiting on — the one I named — and a one-line reframe of why it's a delay tactic, not a quality bar.
Then name the ONE thing on my "ready" list I should cut from v1, and why cutting it makes v1 land sooner without losing value.
One project pulled out of the drawer.
One tiny version sent to real people.
One v2 written by readers instead of fear.
That's it, my fellow renegades!
Yours 'making your AI sidekick work intelligently and exactly the way you want while you sleep' Vijay Peduru 🦸♂️