Back in 2009, I had a brainwave. I thought I'd spotted something missing from the stack of web technology the world was using.
I wanted to fix that. And I knew how.
I worked on my prototype nearly every day. I was excited to be doing something so important. I was in the right place at the right time. I was going to be famous, and the whole world would thank me for my brilliant idea.
Over a period of months, I developed my solution, and called it HWIT, which stands for Here's What I Think.
I believed in it deeply. I bored my friends to death talking about it.
I registered the trademark. Then I set up a project website, which looked like this:
I tested the software on some schoolchildren. Twice.
It worked the second time, and they quite liked it.
I created an installer for Windows. Softpedia hoovered it up, and hosted the executable on their site. Two people rated it. It gained 4 out of a possible 5 stars.
But as the months went by the project failed to gain momentum. I was mystified. I was certain that my new way of working would revolutionise people's lives.
If only they would listen to me.
I prepared a talk for a technical conference, and then backed out. Was I scared? No. I had started to have doubts about the point of it all. And I didn't know why I wanted to talk to a room full of developers.
There were a million people in the world who needed HWIT. I just didn't know who they were. And no clue how to reach them.
That's how it began.