Reflections on Writing, Sharing, and Everything in Between

Product management isn't just about frameworks—it's about navigating the messy, real-life process of building, leading, and learning.

If you'd told me a month ago that I'd be writing my fifth newsletter post, I'd have laughed. Or rolled my eyes. Maybe both. Yet here we are.

Five posts in, and it feels like the perfect moment to hit pause, rewind, and ask myself, How did this even start? And, more importantly, why am I still doing it?

When I first started, I thought it would be all about neatly organized ideas, polished insights, and maybe even a growing list of subscribers nodding along in agreement. Reality check? It’s been a beautiful mess of scattered thoughts, unexpected connections, and moments where I wondered if anyone was even reading. But somewhere in that chaos, I found something more valuable than I expected—a sense of purpose rooted in the very things I navigate daily as a Product Manager: iteration, growth, and impact.

If you're on Substack, you probably sense there's something special going on here. If you're not, let me take you behind the scenes and share my personal story. You might be thinking, "Why even bother?" Honestly, I’d probably wonder the same. But the truth is, it matters to me—and the more I write, the more I realize just how much.

Destined Coincidence

It all began with what I’d barely call a New Year's resolution. My partner and I decided to have a quick brainstorming session about our plans for the year—nothing serious, just 15 minutes of jotting down whatever popped into our heads. We swapped lists, asked each other random questions, laughed a lot, and that was pretty much it. No profound insights, no life-altering decisions. Just two people clearing mental clutter, letting go of any outside pressure, and leaning into a mix of spontaneity and gut feeling instead of overthinking.

Funny thing is, my newsletter wasn’t even on the list. But if I'm being honest, I'd been quietly flirting with the idea for a while—like a background app running in my brain, occasionally popping up with a little notification: "Hey, remember me?" Then, after that simple brainstorming session, something shifted. It felt like the right time to stop overthinking and start doing. Kind of like building an MVP: launch first, iterate later.

Looking back, I realize it wasn’t about the list at all. It was about allowing space for ideas to breathe, to surface without judgment. The act of clearing my mind made room for something more authentic to emerge—something that was already there, just waiting to be acknowledged.

The Igniting Spark

I had signed up for Substack a year prior, mostly to follow a few people, mainly product folks, mostly American. I craved reliable, first-hand insights with a human touch, something that felt authentic, unlike the polished, sometimes distant content on platforms like YouTube. Reading those newsletters felt like overhearing intimate, thoughtful conversations that I desperately wanted to be part of.

There was one post in particular that hit me differently. It wasn't groundbreaking in content, but the vulnerability, the rawness of it, made me pause. It made me feel seen in a way I didn’t expect. That was the spark—realizing that words, simple as they are, could create a connection across time zones and screens. That’s when I knew: I wanted to be on the other side of that exchange, too.

It wasn’t just the content; it was the courage behind it. The writer wasn’t trying to be perfect—they were trying to be real. And that’s what resonated with me the most. Much like product development, it wasn’t about perfection but progress, iteration, and feedback loops.

That was the spark. Not a lightning bolt, just a flicker. But it was enough.

Friend with Discomfort

So why do I write? Why do I feel the need to keep going? After a month of experimenting, I realized that my newsletter serves more than just one purpose. It’s not just about hitting “publish"—it’s about what happens in between.

1. Clarifying My Thinking

In product management, clarity often comes through reflection. Writing helps me untangle ideas, much like dissecting user feedback to find insights.

2. Staying Motivated—and Motivating Others

Sharing ideas, exchanging perspectives, and growing through connection keep the fire alive. It’s not just about inspiring others; sometimes, I need to re-read my own words to remind myself why I started. Just as sharing roadmaps inspires teams, sharing ideas here sparks connections and growth

3. Finding My Tribe

Product work thrives on collaboration. This space helps me connect with like-minded folks who care about similar things, challenge my thinking, and broaden my perspective.

4. Challenging Myself

Writing publicly pushes me out of my comfort zone, much like shipping a new feature and waiting for user feedback. It's terrifying and liberating at the same time.

I remember sitting there, finger hovering over the "publish" button like it was some sort of self-destruct switch. My inner critic was throwing a full-blown tantrum: "Is this even good? Will anyone care? Are these words just floating into the void?" Honestly, I almost chickened out. But then I thought, screw it, and hit publish anyway.

A day later, I got a message from someone who said my words resonated with them. That tiny ripple, from my messy thoughts to their heart, was everything. It made me realize that the magic isn’t in the perfect sentence or the flawless draft. The magic is in showing up—especially when it feels like no one’s watching.

What’s Beyond the Job Title

Professionally, I wear a few hats—all loosely stitched together by my obsession with ideas, products, and people. I’m a Product Manager at an AI startup, building GenAI products, leading a team of young professionals, and working side-by-side with the CEO. My background? A mashup of UX design, research, and social innovation. I’m the person in meetings asking, "Cool, but does this help someone?"

I’m just curious. About everything. I studied a wide range of humanities disciplines—Journalism, Social Communication, and Communication Management—because I couldn’t bring myself to go too narrow. I believe in collaboration, openness, and diversity. Traveling, meeting new people, and trying new things? Yes, please. I’ve been capturing thoughts, inspirations, and observations in notebooks for years, but never shared them. Until now. Because sharing feels like the natural thing to do, like connecting all the dots.

Fuel for My Curiosity and Learning Urge

I’m endlessly curious about the intersections of technology, business, and design. I want to learn how to build products that aren't just innovative but genuinely valuable and purposeful—products that create positive impacts and deliver value to all stakeholders.

My goal? Combine what I already know with what I’m still figuring out.

Share that messy, beautiful process in public.

Connect with inspiring people.

Exchange ideas.

Motivate each other to strive for greatness.

Learning is better when it’s shared, right?

Substack Feels Like Home

Someone once described Substack as "Twitter for cool people," and honestly, it resonates. People write here not to flaunt, but to explore, to be vulnerable without the ego-driven undertone. It's less about “look at me, my achievements, my perfect life” and more about “this is who I am, what I’m curious about, what I find valuable.”

The content feels real. It invites reflection. It demands time to read, digest, and respond. There’s a certain resistance to the fast, fleeting nature of video content that dominates platforms like TikTok. Sure, Substack isn’t immune to growth hackers and their strategies, but even that has its silver lining. It encourages action, consistency, and the courage to show up—because everyone starts somewhere.

I remember one post I wrote that felt different from the start. It was raw, almost too personal, and I hesitated before hitting publish. But I did. A few days later, I got a message from a reader who shared similar perspectives. We ended up exchanging a few messages and diving deep into thoughts about growth, work issues, and creativity. That connection felt genuine, like meeting a stranger on a train and having the kind of conversation you think about long after. It reminded me why Substack feels different—it's not just a platform; it's a space where real connections happen through shared words.

It feels like home because it fosters connection, not just consumption.

Showing Up When No One's Watching

Writing this newsletter is more than just sharing thoughts; it's about finding meaning through the process. Every post feels like opening a little window into my mind, letting the fresh air in, and hoping someone out there feels the breeze too. Sometimes writing feels natural, like catching up with an old friend over a cup of tea—easy, familiar, and full of energy. Other times, it feels like dragging tangled thoughts out of my head, messy and uncomfortable, like trying to untie a stubborn knot in the dark.

But I keep showing up.

Even if no one reads it, it still matters. Because it matters to me. It’s my way of stitching together fragments of thoughts, emotions, and experiences into something that feels whole, even if just for a moment.

Today, as I write this from my trip to South Africa, hitting "publish" feels a little hard. Time is short, there’s not much room for refining or polishing. But then I thought, so what? I’m going to do it anyway—my way, with all its authentic, perfect imperfection.

Looking ahead, I don’t have a grand master plan. No neatly outlined roadmap. Just a commitment to keep exploring, connecting, and growing through this space. I don’t have all the answers, and maybe that's the beauty of it.

The process is the journey.

And I’m grateful you’re here, walking alongside me.

If any part of this resonated with you, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Share your reflections in the comments below or drop me a DM—I always enjoy connecting with people who are curious, thoughtful, and navigating their own journeys.

---