Forget Vision. Build Something Useful.
No, you don’t need a vision statement. You need to create value.
There’s a lot of noise in the startup world about the importance of having a “vision.” About how no company can succeed without one. About how your mission should be on the wall, in your pitch deck, tattooed on your soul.
But I’d argue that for most early-stage founders, vision is a distraction. Worse, it can be a limitation.
Let me be clear: I’m not saying vision is useless. If you’re running a multi-unit business or you're a CEO trying to align ten departments under one roof, you need a vision. You need a narrative that brings clarity and cohesion to chaos.
But that’s not where startups are. Most startups haven’t even earned the right to have a vision.
Vision is for later. Usefulness is for now.
Right now, you need something else. You need to build something useful. Something real. Something that solves a problem someone actually has, and solves it in a way that makes them say, “this is awesome.”
Cool, even. And then they come back, because your clever little thing actually adds value to their life.
Now, “cool” is often written off as subjective. But it’s not that subjective. We know it when we see it. An AI assistant that takes better meeting notes than any project manager you’ve ever worked with? Cool. A tool that helps the Department of Sanitation process waste 10% faster? Not flashy, but cool. Because it's solving a real problem in a way that clearly works.
Cool, in this context, means: you found a problem and created a solution someone actually wants.
That’s it. That’s the goal.
Not defining your vision statement. Not brainstorming a five-point mission framework. Just solving something that matters, in a way that makes someone else say, “this is better than what I had before.”
Vision-first thinking traps you.
If you're pre-product-market fit, haven’t cracked retention, and haven't captured more than a sliver of your total addressable market, vision is a trap. It invites you to anchor your thinking around a fantasy future instead of engaging honestly with what’s happening now. It discourages learning and evolving. It locks you into a version of the world that may never materialize.
Even worse, it makes it harder to pivot. Because now you’ve told everyone: investors, your team, the internet, what you stand for. You’ve made it public. And you don’t want to look like you were wrong. So instead of adapting, you start contorting your roadmap to keep the original narrative intact.
That’s how smart people end up building things no one wants.
And don’t even get me started on the consultants. There’s an entire cottage industry of strategists selling Fortune 500 companies templated visions and missions at absurd markups. These companies check the box and move on. Maybe that’s fine when you’re a mature organization looking to align massive teams. But for a startup, it’s theater.
Just build something. Let the vision emerge.
The truth is, vision can be discovered. It doesn't always need to be declared.
A few weeks ago, I found myself stuck. I’d been thinking about a product idea for months, turning it over, theorizing, trying to articulate what it could be. I’ve been coding since I was 13, studied computer science in undergrad and grad school, worked as an engineer and product manager for years, built mobile apps and enterprise platforms. Still, I felt blocked. I wasn’t building.
Then one weekend, I just opened my laptop. I started vibe coding. Not wireframing. Not writing docs. Just coding. Tinkering. Testing. I literally took a photo of a sketch on a napkin and used that to generate the interface.
Eight hours later, I had a prototype. My girlfriend tried it and gave feedback. I iterated. The next day, I had a second prototype. The following weekend, a third.
Each version taught me something. And every iteration got better. Not because I had a guiding vision, but because I was in the loop. I was learning through doing.
Now, her and I use the product almost daily. Not out of obligation, but because it’s useful. It adds value to our life. That’s the only validation I needed.
And here’s the wild part: I used almost nothing from grad school. I relied almost entirely on AI tools. All that mattered was momentum, feedback, and the willingness to build without overthinking.
Vision will come later. When it’s earned.
Eventually, yes, you’ll need a story. Something to help others understand what you’re building and why it matters. But you’ll write that story based on what you’ve seen in the world, not what you hope to see. You’ll build your vision from the ground up, brick by brick, based on real signals.
Until then, forget the branding exercises. Forget the boardroom poetry.
Build something useful.
That’s how you earn your vision.