Learning to Sell and Build

I’ve been thinking about something I didn’t give much attention to earlier in my journey, sales and marketing. Not in the traditional corporate sense, but in the very human way we’re always selling something. Every day, in some way, we’re selling ideas, trust, convenience, dreams. From relationships to work to starting something new, there’s always a subtle exchange, and those who understand this well tend to move farther and faster.

Funny how I never really saw it this way until recently, shifting from being a consumer to someone who builds, creates, initiates. That shift changes everything. You begin to realize how much persuasion, positioning, and presence matter. If I were to start over, I’d train to become a better salesperson, not just someone who can close a deal, but someone who knows how to build trust, who understands timing, and who knows how to keep going through a thousand no’s.

What’s even more interesting is how deeply this connects to execution. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in the past 12 months is that simplicity wins. We get so caught up in planning, aligning, sharing with multiple people, trying to make everyone excited about the same idea. But the more people involved, the more layers you add, the higher the chance that the idea will stall before it starts. In trying to please everyone, you risk doing nothing.

I’ve made that mistake too often. Excited about collaborations, about building something with friends. But the harsh truth is: if you want to build, start. Small, scrappy, quiet. That’s where the real momentum lives. And when you get something off the ground? People will join in anyway, people love to back the doer. It reminds me of The Courage to Be Disliked, how often we want to be seen as doing something without actually doing it. Progress isn’t visibility. It’s motion.

It’s also about clarity. That difficult question we rarely ask when working on something with others, What are we doing? We ask it in relationships all the time, but rarely in projects or teams. I’ve learned that if I can’t answer that in the first three conversations, something’s off. You need to define direction early. Otherwise, it’s like floating on a boat with no compass, eventually, you’ll drift. I still have a few relationships I probably need to go back and clarify. But I’ve learned that clarity is kindness.

And here’s something else I’m learning, maybe it’s easier, or at least more honest, to build things with people who are at the same stage as you. There’s a kind of shared hunger, mutual learning, a willingness to make mistakes together. When you’re paired with someone 10 steps ahead, it can feel like you’re always catching up, or worse, like you’re being carried. Not that those collaborations can’t work, but pace and perspective matter.

Which brings me to learning. I underestimated how much I was holding myself back by not adopting a beginner’s mindset. Not making time to read. Not creating space to learn. I used to think learning only showed in external growth, new roles, visible achievements. But internal growth? It’s slower. It’s like planting a bamboo seed, you water it for years before you see anything, and then, suddenly, it shoots up. That’s what this season feels like. Like something is shifting, even if the world can’t see it yet.

This shift also requires making peace with mistakes. In fact, inviting them. Because if you’re not making mistakes, you’re probably not building anything real. I’m learning to make room for missteps, and to keep moving anyway.

So that’s where I’m at. Somewhere between learning to sell, building from scratch, embracing slow growth, caring less about people’s opinion and figuring out what really matters. And trying, always trying, to become someone who finishes what they start.

Maybe that’s what building is. A series of attempts. A little more clarity. A little less noise. One small win at a time.