Good enough was never the goal. It was the ground we learned to stand on — not the sky we were meant to reach. In a world that rewards speed, it’s easy to confuse output with impact. Functionality is everywhere. But connection? That’s still rare — and infinitely more valuable.
Effort Isn’t Linear, but Impact Is Exponential
Acceptable is the bare minimum — it works, nothing more. Good means it works well — reliably, predictably, and without friction. Great delivers unexpected benefits — the thoughtful touches that signal intention. Excellent redefines expectations and turns standout into standard. Perceived perfection? That’s excellent work amplified by emotional clarity — when form, function, and feeling align so precisely that people don’t just notice it… they remember it.
The difference between levels isn’t just effort — it’s intention.
The leap from acceptable to good might take double the effort. Good to great? Multiply that again. Great to excellent? Expect a steep climb — taste, restraint, and emotional labor required. And perceived perfection? That’s where obsession lives. Where invisible decisions compound into unmistakable outcomes.
Effort doesn’t scale linearly. But impact does.
Each elevation doesn’t just look better —it amplifies meaning, accelerates action, and anchors memory.
It’s not just refinement — it’s resonance. And that’s what spreads.
The MVP Is Dead — Long Live the MLP
We’ve been taught to publish fast and iterate. To build something that works, launch it, and let the market respond. That’s the logic of the Minimum Viable Product — and it’s not wrong. But, in a world saturated with viable solutions, “working” doesn’t endure. People don’t share what’s functional—they share what leaves an impression.
That’s where the Minimum Lovable Product comes in. An MVP asks, What’s the least we can build that works? An MLP asks, What’s the least we can build that someone might actually care about?
The MVP achieves functionality. The MLP evokes feeling. One is sufficient. The other is significant.
This is the tension between substance and signal — between what something is and what it communicates. Designers might call it “fit and finish.” Seth Godin, a longtime advocate for resonance over reach, calls it the line between what’s safe and what’s remarkable. Either way, the principle holds: value isn’t just in what you deliver — it’s in how clearly your audience can feel your intention.
Because while MVPs keep products alive, MLPs give them momentum.
The Art of Resonance
When substance and signal align, something remarkable happens. You don’t just create a product — you create resonance. A silent conversation between creator and audience. No explainer needed. No pitch required. The value is self-evident. That kind of work isn’t merely noticed. It’s experienced. It invites pride in the maker and trust from the audience. Not because it’s perfect — because it’s intentional.
This is where craft matters. Not as ornament, but as evidence of care. A well-placed animation. A moment of unexpected clarity. A decision made for the user before they even knew to ask. Each detail, small on its own, accumulates meaning. And when every detail reflects the deeper intent, resonance isn’t accidental — it’s inevitable.
This is how trust builds. How value is felt. How attention becomes advocacy.
So the next time you’re deciding whether something is “done,” ask yourself: Is it viable? Or is it resonant?
One ships. The other spreads.
