Indie Hacker Diaries #25: Trusting Your Inner Voice

In his 1966 book “The Tacit Dimension,” Michael Polanyi reflects on the idea of tacit knowledge. That is, knowing something without being able to put words to it. A “gut feel” or unconscious rumbling that something should be done or said a certain way—or the inverse, not done or not said—without being able to fully articulate it.

Ever since I read the book, I’ve noticed how a lot of the decisions I make in respect to my work are based on just that: tacit knowledge. Whether it’s a new business pursuit, code I need to write, or the right layout for a design, though I struggle to put words to it—I know, somehow, whether it’s right or wrong.

This has its ups and downs. Used properly, trusting tacit knowledge can help you to “see” things others can’t. It can give you an edge or a lead on an idea that may take your competition awhile to catch up with.

But it can also be destructive.

In knowing that you’re right, you can convince yourself that you’re always right (even when it’s objectively clear that you’re not). This can spiral into a Jungian nightmare over time. What starts out as an innocent, excited hunch devolves into a spiteful narcissism, convinced that everyone else is wrong while you sit perched atop your tacit tuffet of wisdom.

To avoid that, the approach I’ve taken to using tacit knowledge is “prove it, motherfucker.”

Whenever I have that unshakeable feeling that I need to do something or avoid something, I trust it, but probationally. Instead of pot-committing to a decision or direction, I dip my toes. I try it. I feel it out. I’ve found it’s much better to spend a day’s worth of time pursuing a direction to see if the reality matches up with the “gut feeling” rather than trusting it implicitly. Worst case scenario, you finish the day having learned what not to do.

This week, I did exactly that.

I’ve been working on Mod—the CSS framework I’ve mentioned on and off the past few months—for the better part of this year.

I started the first version around February or so, eventually hitting a wall around mid-summer and deciding to start from scratch. This week, I threw that second version in the dust bin. That was shocking—even to me—because it’s effectively a complete product. But it’s not right.

What I’m ultimately trying to do is to square the reality in front of me with that tacit knowledge inside. Knowing that I certainly could release what I have and get some sort of result, but that voice inside would keep nagging. Potentially leading me to a state of madness.

Sure, there’s certainly a feeling of “wtf, dude, just ship it” right alongside that tacit feeling that it’s not fully baked.

But what stomps that out is having experienced this cycle before. I’ve started and restarted several things in the past. Most recently, I talked about taking that very approach to Push: the deployment service I’ve been building for Joystick apps.

Though it was frustrating to get here, now that I have v3 of Push in hand, that tacit nagging that it wasn’t quit right has subsided. The inner voice is quiet.

Having found recent success with this approach, I’m doing the same with Mod. What I have in v2 is certainly close, but the voice is still manically pinging around my head shouting “not yet, not yet, not yet.”

Conveniently, as all of this was happening, I came across a tweet that summarized some of Steve Jobs’ thoughts on how to design “insanely great” products. At the bottom, under the heading “Prototype and iterate” I couldn’t help but smirk at the last item:

“Don’t be afraid to restart if it’s not perfect.”

And I’d like to share that same wisdom with you. There’s always a platitude kicking around about not being a perfectionist or “great is the enemy of good,” but if that advice hasn’t served you well in the past, I’d encourage taking the Jobs angle.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again now. When I’m taking my final breaths on this planet, even if nothing comes of it, I’ll be happy to look back on a life well spent, pursuing something exceptional. Not just another buck.

The same people that say you shouldn’t be a perfectionist also say “third times a charm.” Based on what I’ve seen, that’s remarkably true.