What I learned from prototyping
I’ve been a fangirl of design theory for a while now. I jumped on the Lean Startup bandwagon and continued the journey with Lean Customer Development and Sprint. I even started Designing Your Work Life, but quit after reading how “a workaholic shouldn’t be in startups because there is always more to do”. I felt a bit too seen.
Because of my scientific background, the Lean Startup framework had me at hypothesis with “learn”.
Because of my data-driven mindset, it kept me with “measure”.
But because of my perfectionism, “build” was always a bit… theoretical.
I daydreamed about how nice it would be to mock something up and get feedback. As an efficiency nut I could appreciate the time savings of a prototype. “Fail fast!” Silicon Valley says. But I didn’t have great examples of anyone actually doing that. I’ll grant myself some hyperbole here, but I’d either observed the classic scientist founder who builds perfection in isolation or worked in an industry requiring validation to the 1000th degree. No scrappy prototypes or mockups there!
In addition to lacking tangible examples, my hesitation tied into a bigger (if not existential) question. Could I build? I know I can take something from 1 to 100. But was I capable of taking that step from nothing-ness into something-ness?
“Was I capable of taking that step from nothing-ness into something-ness?”
I heard about Majo Molfino’s IGNITE program: It’s an 8-week prototyping bootcamp, blending the external work of design theory with the internal work of pushing yourself to gather clarity through action. “Brilliant!” I thought. I knew that I would need and benefit from a cohort approach if I was going to put something out there that wasn’t up to my typical obsessive perfectionist standards.
I decided to use the program to prototype a reproducible workshop offering as part of nymbly (see previous posts here & here for more context).
For my first prototype, I targeted the entry/interest step in the customer journey and spent about an hour mocking up an infographic-style ad in Canva.
Then - and this was the hard part - put it in front of people I trusted and complete strangers. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t envision ridicule and ruin, and I’m grateful that didn’t happen.
Those interviews validated the pain point, which is a high barrier to entry in understanding the eClinical space. But they raised questions and friendly skepticism as well:
How general would this be?
How can I be sure this is what my startup needs?
How can I be sure you know what you’re talking about?
Fair points, I thought. Let me see what I can do about that.
Prototype 2 was a web landing page. I clarified some of the language on the sessions, but mostly added detail on perceived benefits and who this was most suited for.
I decided to test what I considered the riskiest part: The price point.
A sidestep here into backstory. My plan for this workshop was going to require a lot of up-front work. I wasn’t just going to talk at people for an hour and expect them to fork over the big bucks.
I was going to consolidate information across the murky, fragmented landscape of resources. I wanted to generate rich, re-usable visuals that could be integrated into training programs. I wanted to dive into parts of the industry that weren’t my areas of expertise to make sure this was robust and generalizable. I was even going to invest in generating personas that would be part of the offering.
So when I came up with my price points, I was considering the effort to put it together and the effort to deploy.
But I could feel the momentum starting to wane as I went through my prototype 2 interviews. Instead of getting closer to traction, I kept getting the same questions as before:
How could I guarantee results?
How could I be sure this is information what I needed?
And I didn’t blame them one bit - this was a high price point. In their shoes, I’d be skeptical as well.
In a recent conversation, someone remarked, “You can feel product-market fit. And you can feel when it’s off.” Well friends, I knew I was off.
And when I took a real hard look in the mirror, I saw my fatal flaws:
The content actually isn’t tailored to anyone. I didn’t narrow it down and didn’t address the initial questions of “this feels general… how can I know this will work for me?” Perhaps for once in my life I was being lazy. I was trying to let other people tell me what they wanted instead of picking a lane and narrowing it down.
There is a big shift between Weeks 1 & 2 (foundational) and Weeks 3 & 4 (skills-based) that I don’t fully explain and also didn’t fix.
There still isn’t a clear value proposition or promise of what results you’ll get. “You’ll know more” is, um, not compelling enough.
My big take-aways were that early-stage founders needed the foundational information the most, but also couldn’t afford to pay much for it. And the most important value proposition to them - whether this would help them sell - wasn’t what I was out to achieve or my strong suit.
Mid-size companies were more interested in skills-based training, but the value proposition wasn’t clear enough. Plus, I’m having to compete with them hiring in people with more industry expertise.
Even small mid-size companies didn’t need it, because they were still at a point where communication flowed freely across the entire team. They could get what they needed from the founder or C-level exec who did have deep roots in the industry.
It felt like my pool of “ideal candidates” was shrinking hard & fast and this business model no longer made sense.
I was ready to jump ship, but fortunately/unfortunately I still had homework due to Majo (and I wasn’t about to piss that wonderful lady off!)
So Prototype 3 was a pivot. I abandoned the reproducible workshop and turned it into a personalized consulting package. This was the best way to attach a reasonable price point and customize so the company had a clear sense of what they would get out of it.
That left early-stage founders out in the cold, so I decided to start a talk series where I could share some of my foundational knowledge without the slightly icky feeling I was starting to get from trying to monetize it.
So - interestingly enough - I landed back where I started with personalized consulting work. I can say that’s truly not what I expected, and yet the relief and fit of it was palpable.
I learned a lot with this program. I pushed myself to put scrappy things out there and explore new territory. I validated my original business model and clarified what I wanted to be doing with my time. Not all of it felt good, but the experience was worth it.
And most importantly, I failed fast. I was able to gather meaningful data and eliminate a high-effort initiative that wouldn’t have paid itself back. I know this experience helps me re-think how to approach new business offerings, but gives me a new and tangible perspective on how to help other startups as well.
