The Uncomfort Zone Podcast

Stop Building. Start Questioning. How Asking ‘Why’ Fuels Real Impact

Yesterday, a friend messaged me: “Do you have any books, courses, blog posts, anything you’d recommend to help me grow technically?” He’s a freelance web developer, hungry to step into deeper waters: infrastructure, security, scaling, maybe even leadership. He’s serious. Curious. Not just tinkering, but building a path forward. I figured I’d just send over a quick list of resources. But when I sat down to write it… something else happened. I started thinking not just about what I know, but how I came to know it.Not just what I can do, but how my thinking has changed over time. And I realized, the list wasn’t just a bunch of links.It was a reflection of something deeper.A mindset.A quiet philosophy I’ve built through years of tinkering, failing, fixing, scaling, and watching things break. So I kept writing. Thanks for reading The Uncomfort Zone! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. From Execution to Impact In the beginning, all I wanted was to get good.To be the person who could fix the bug, write the clean code, ship the feature. Like most people who are self-taught, or hustling to make freelance life work, I was in execution mode. You focus on what’s right in front of you, because that’s how you survive. But at some point, your questions start to shift. You stop asking “How do I build this?”And you start asking “Why does this system behave like this?”“Who is this for?”“What happens when I’m not around?” You begin to notice friction. Patterns. Failure modes.You start seeing beyond the code, into the systems, the incentives, the humans behind the logs. That shift is invisible. No one hands you a badge when it happens.But it’s real. And once you cross that line, you can’t go back. You’re no longer just executing.You’re shaping how things get built.And how people move around them. That’s the moment I found myself reflecting on.Not how much I’ve read.But how much I’ve changed. The Books Are Just the Beginning Let’s talk about that list. Yes, I wrote down the classics: * Site Reliability Engineering by Google’s SRE team * Designing Data-Intensive Applications by Martin Kleppmann * The Pragmatic Programmer * Infrastructure as Code * Security Engineering by Ross Anderson Each of these helped me name something I had already sensed: that building systems is about trade-offs. That infrastructure is culture. That reliability is a conversation. But more than any specific book, what I really wanted to share was this: Start with fundamentals. Think in systems. Learn to see the human side of the machine. Because there is no one book that makes you a better engineer.It’s how you read, what you question, and how you connect domains that builds depth. That’s why I also added books that aren’t strictly technical: * Thinking in Systems by Donella Meadows * The Manager’s Path by Camille Fournier * The Staff Engineer’s Path by Tanya Reilly * Being Glue, a short essay every engineer should read These books aren’t about syntax. They’re about systems, responsibility, influence without authority.They helped me see the “invisible work”, the decisions, diplomacy, culture, and maintenance that hold everything together. Because at a certain level, the hardest questions aren’t “Can I solve this?”But “Should we solve this at all?”“How will this decision feel 6 months from now?” That’s senior thinking. That’s leadership. That’s engineering too. Learning Through Intuition, Not Just Information I love fundamentals. But I don’t believe in theory alone. I think intuition matters just as much. And you can’t learn intuition from a PDF. So when I made that list, I didn’t just give my friend books.I gave him labs.Exercises.Projects where he could break things and rebuild them. I told him: * Run a home lab * Host your own services * Build a CI/CD pipeline * Use TryHackMe or HackTheBox to learn security by doing * Set up a Nextcloud server. Break it. Fix it. Watch the logs. * Deploy an update that knocks it offline. Figure out why. These aren’t just side projects. They’re training for your gut. Because reading about high availability is one thing.Watching your own system crash during an update, and diagnosing it under pressure?That’s a whole other level of understanding. Psychologists call this tacit knowledge, the kind you feel in your body after enough reps, but can’t always explain in words. And that’s what separates the intermediate from the experienced.It’s also what most people never teach, because they don’t realize they even have it. But we can change that. Turning Quiet Knowing into Shared Wisdom That’s when a bigger idea came up. What if we didn’t keep this knowledge hidden?What if we made it visible, the paths, the pivots, the quiet intuitions? That thought came from my friend Nicklas.He reminded me of Tribe of Mentors by Tim Ferriss, a book built from a simple structure: ask the same set of questions to dozens of thinkers, athletes, builders. The magic isn’t in any one answer.It’s in the contrast. The patterns. The shape of the thinking. So what if we did that, for engineers, founders, operators like us? What if we asked: * What book changed how you think? * What failure taught you the most? * What do you wish someone told you earlier? * How do you know when you’ve leveled up? Not as clickbait. Not as advice. But as a map, a gift, for others figuring this out on their own. And not just from people with titles and blue checkmarks. But from the quiet builders:The Viet Kieu tech leads.The second-gen startup operators.The solopreneurs who figured out failover at 3AM. What if you’re one of them?What if your path matters? The Edge You Don’t See After writing that list, I stepped back and realized how much I had grown.How much I had seen.How much I had forgotten to appreciate. All that knowledge. All those patterns. All those hours staring at logs, debugging production, shipping weird fixes at midnight. And I thought: Damn.This is actually an edge. Not because I’m special.But because I’ve been lucky.Mentored. Encouraged. Given time and space to learn. So I’m sharing this now because maybe you’ve also moved fast for so long, you haven’t paused to notice what you’ve built, not in code, but in wisdom. And maybe it’s time to pass that on. We don’t need to teach perfectly.We just need to show our thinking.We don’t need to lead loudly.We just need to be visible. So let me ask you: What have you quietly mastered?Who might benefit from hearing it?What’s the smallest way you could pass it on today? Want the List? If this sparked something in you, reply.If you want the full list I sent my friend, books, blogs, hands-on projects, drop a comment or message. I’ll send it over, no gatekeeping. And if you’ve got your own go-tos, the things that changed how you think, share them. Let’s build this knowledge map together. If you're working on something of your own, tech, team, company, I share more stories like this in my newsletter for founders and doers navigating identity, ambition and impact. Keep it simple, keep it fresh, smile and let it go. Yours truly, Trung PS: I know not everyone gets the time, safety, or mentorship to reflect like this. If you're still grinding, just trying to make it work, I see you. This piece is my way of making the path a little more visible. A little more human. If you want to check out Nick—the freelancer who inspired me to put this list together—you can find him at https://n1cklas.com. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theuncomfortzone.substack.com [https://theuncomfortzone.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Opening Your Inner Door: The Power of Being Real

Chào các bạn, hello friends! There’s a question I’ve been quietly sitting with lately, one that showed up somewhere between a coaching call, a morning run and an awkward introduction I didn’t feel like salvaging. The question is this:Who do I let into my store? Thanks for reading The Uncomfort Zone! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. Not a real store, of course. I’m talking about the storefront of my inner world: the one that holds my values, my fears, my joy, the stuff I’ve worked hard to make peace with. It didn’t always feel like a store. For years, it was more like a locked utility closet. Only a few people were allowed in, fellow computer nerds who understood the way I thought, who liked the same stuff I did, who spoke the language of building and tinkering and dreaming without the need to explain. They were welcome. Most others? Not so much. But over time, through intentional self-work and unexpected disruptions, that space inside began to shift. I started rearranging it. Letting go of inherited beliefs. Clearing out shelves of things I thought I had to be. Meditation, therapy, long walks, hard conversations, all of it helped turn that closet into a place I’m proud to invite others into. Now it feels more like a store I want to share.Not because it’s perfect.Because it’s honest. That shift, from performing to simply being has changed the way I connect. With friends. With business partners. With romantic relationships. With strangers I meet at events or over lunch. It’s changed the way I introduce myself too. I used to rush to prove something. Now, I just let people feel the space. I don’t need to perform. The store speaks for itself. This is leadership, redefined.Not loud. Not showy. But grounded.It’s about who you are, not what you say. And science backs it. Research by social psychologist Amy Cuddy shows that people evaluate warmth before competence when deciding to trust someone. In other words, we connect not because someone is right, but because they feel real. This week, I felt that in so many small ways. A coaching session with a founder opened up multiple breakthroughs, not because I brought a powerful framework, but because I stayed present and trusted the space. Simply reflecting openly on how I managed my own life pillars helped them realize they had never truly examined their priorities through the lens of impact: both personally and in terms of their mental and physical wellness. I had lunch with someone I’ve known for a while. Nothing groundbreaking was said. But something shifted, we both left lighter.Sometimes, presence matters more than new information. I was excited to meet someone new, som eone I felt a real connection with. It didn’t work out. The meetup didn’t happen.I was clearly disappointed, I’d been looking forward to this meetup all week, picturing how it might go. But rather than push or try to force something, I held back and let it be. The result came almost immediately: she offered to reschedule on her own. That felt like a quiet win, a real sign that letting go with grace doesn’t mean giving up, but creating space for things to happen in their own time. It was a reminder that sometimes the best way to build trust and connection is simply to respect the natural flow, even when it’s hard. And I’m also proud of this:HCMC is now officially part of the Founders Running Club.It’s not just a run group. It’s a signal to the world: Vietnam is on the global map of innovation. We’re not just participating, we’re leading.This is something Tina and I have been building for months. Showing up. Building momentum. Fostering community. And now, it’s real. I stood quietly at the back and watched the conversations flowing naturally, people connecting, sharing, inspiring each other. Seeing those moments unfold felt deeply fulfilling, Like witnessing the fruits of months of hard work and dedication. That’s when it really clicked for me: this isn’t just a running group, it’s a movement and we’re building something bigger than ourselves. Founders Pause wrapped its first cohort this week too. The feedback was deeply affirming, warm words from participants that came unprompted. That’s how I know the work is resonating.That’s how I know I don’t need to prove it. The transformation speaks for itself. The deeper question in all of this is: Who do you let in?When you open your store, who gets access?What do you keep hidden?Where are you still performing and where are you finally just showing up as you are? And what’s one shelf you’re ready to rearrange? It might be a small thing, reaching out to someone who makes you feel seen.It might be big, letting go of the idea that you have to be impressive to be loved. Whatever it is, I want you to know:Your presence is enough.Your story; messy, funny, unfinished - is enough.You don’t have to chase connection.You just have to make space for it. I want to be real, too, about where I’m speaking from. I’ve had the privilege of time, safety and support to do this inner work. Not everyone has that and I don’t take it for granted. We all open our stores under different conditions. And if yours has been closed for a while, just surviving, just getting through - there’s no shame in that. But if you’re ready… crack the door open. Just a little. And if something here landed for you, write back.Tell me:What’s your store like right now?What are you letting go of?Who are you becoming more real with? This is how we build something better. Together. Keep it simple, keep it fresh, smile and let it go Yours truly, Trung PS: I’m opening space for guest contributors, especially Viet Kieu or diaspora voices. If you have a story about growth, identity, business or belonging, I want to hear it. Let’s co-create something the community needs. And yes, I’ll be sharing more stories from the running trail and streets of Saigon in future posts, thanks to those of you who asked. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theuncomfortzone.substack.com [https://theuncomfortzone.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

Beyond the Balance Sheet: Tracking Your Human KPIs

Chao cac ban, hello friends, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the quiet moments in between the work. The ones when no one's watching. When the emails are paused, when the metrics stall and you're left with just yourself, not your pitch deck, not your growth chart, not even your followers. Just you. And honestly, that's where the doubt creeps in, right? Not the kind of doubt that shouts. The kind that whispers. What if this doesn't matter? What if I'm not enough? What if I’m just performing success but not really feeling it? If that feels familiar, you’re not alone. I’ve spent enough time around founders, artists, and visionaries, especially those of us in the diaspora, to know that we’re often carrying more than just our own goals. We're carrying the weight of expectation. Of proving something. Of making the struggle mean something. And somewhere in that chase, it’s easy to forget ourselves. That’s why I’ve been thinking about a different kind of scorecard. Not the ones investors ask for or what LinkedIn celebrates, but something more honest. More human. What I’m calling “Human KPIs.” Key Performance Indicators, sure, but not for profit. For you. For your energy. Your peace of mind. Your relationships. Your purpose. Because here’s the truth I’ve learned the hard way: it’s entirely possible to hit your external goals and still feel empty. It’s possible to be productive and still be lost. Success, if it’s built on disconnection, is fragile. And doubt — when you ignore it — only grows louder. So I started asking different questions. What if the real flex isn’t building fast, but building well? What if sustainable growth means tending to yourself, not just driving yourself? Here’s how I’ve been thinking about it and maybe this helps you too. 1. Physical Fuel — Your Body I used to think self-care meant a massage or a week off once a year. But I’ve come to realize: it’s in the basics. Breathing deeply. Drinking enough water & sleep. Moving every day. Mindful of your steps in life. You know how chaotic founder life can get. Long travels. Countless ad hoc calls. Hotels with no gym and a street too noisy to sleep. Still, the body keeps the score. And if I’m honest, I’ve had moments where I couldn’t even think clearly because I skipped meals or hadn’t exercised in days. These days, I track my energy like I would track my cash flow. Not perfectly, but consistently. I try to ask: Did I move today? Did I pause to breathe? Am I fueling myself like someone who actually wants to be here for the long haul? What about you? What’s one physical rhythm you’ve lost in the grind? 2. Emotional Clarity — Your Mind This is the one that sneaks up on me. I can be in a room full of people, even speaking on stage, and still feel that inner voice: You’re not doing enough. You’re behind. Everyone else has it figured out. Imposter syndrome doesn’t care about your resume. And procrastination I’ve realized, often isn’t about time. It’s about emotions I’m avoiding. Fear of judgment. Fear of starting. Fear that what I make won’t be enough. Lately, I’ve been learning to name my emotions. To sit with doubt instead of trying to outwork it. One practice that’s helped: when I catch myself spiraling, I jot down one or two sentences. Not to analyze — just to notice. That awareness alone is often enough to shift things. When was the last time you paused long enough to notice what you’re actually feeling? 3. Connection Capital — Your Relationships There’s a Vietnamese phrase — tình làng nghĩa xóm — the sentiment of community, of neighbors who look out for each other. I think about that a lot. In this global, digital life, I’ve had years where I’ve met a hundred people and still felt alone. But I’ve learned: real connection doesn’t come from big networking events or clever DMs. It comes from intentional presence. Listening without needing to impress. Checking in without needing a reason. My Human KPI here is simple: Did I have one meaningful conversation this week? Did I encourage someone? Did I let myself be seen, not the polished version, but the honest one? That includes family too. Even if we’re thousands of miles apart. A quick voice note. A shared meal when I’m home. What’s one connection in your life that could use a little more intention right now? 4. Purpose Compass — Your Spirit This one is the deepest and the hardest to fake. There are seasons where I’ve made great money, got featured in the right places, and still felt like I was building someone else’s dream. That’s a slow death. For me, purpose isn’t always clear at the start. It unfolds in the doing. Sometimes it’s as simple as asking: Am I still proud of this? Does this feel true to who I am and where I come from? As a Viet Kieu, I carry stories I didn’t live through but that shaped me. My family’s sacrifices, their silence, their hope. I’m still unpacking that. But I do know this: building something that honors that lineage feels different than just chasing visibility. And sometimes, it’s not even a grand project. It’s a small choice that aligns with who you are becoming. That’s what I try to track now. Are you building something that feeds your spirit — or just your feed? So here’s the invitation. Not to stop growing. But to grow well. To track what matters. To build something that can last, not just in the market, but in your own life. If any of this resonates, maybe take a moment this week to choose one Human KPI to track. Just one. Start small. No pressure. Maybe it’s going on that walk. Calling that old friend. Writing that page. Drinking that glass of water. Small steps make the path. You don’t have to take the whole mountain at once. As we say back home — cắt con voi ra từng miếng thì mới mang qua cửa được. You have to cut the elephant into pieces to bring it through the door. If you’re doing this too, I’d love to know. What’s your Human KPI right now? What’s the smallest action you’re committing to? We’re not meant to do this alone. And your doubt doesn’t mean you’re broken, it just means you’re still human. Still listening. Let’s keep building. But let’s do it in a way that feels good to come home to. Keep it simple, keep it fresh, smile and let it go. Yours truly, Trung This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theuncomfortzone.substack.com [https://theuncomfortzone.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

The Space Between Doing and Being

Chào các bạn, Hello Friends, I’ve been reflecting a lot over the last couple of weeks and it’s funny how sometimes the simplest lessons are the ones we need to revisit. It’s not that I’ve forgotten them, but the weight of life makes me forget how important they are until I have to confront them again. It's like they sit quietly in the back of my mind, waiting for a moment to surface and remind me of their truth. Thanks for reading The Uncomfort Zone! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. I think this is something a lot of us go through, especially as entrepreneurs or creatives. We often think we’re just one big breakthrough away from clarity, but sometimes, the real breakthrough is simply in returning to what we already know. Lately, I’ve been feeling the tension between rest and action. I think we often mistake rest for laziness, especially in the entrepreneurial world, where the pressure to “always be on” can be suffocating. For me, the past few weeks have been a reminder that rest is part of the process, not a detour from it. I’ve been taking more time for myself than usual, but I’ve had this inner conflict where I’ve felt guilty about it. I mean, I know that rest is necessary, but somehow, there's always this voice in the back of my head telling me to push harder, to go faster. I’ve been working through this internal tug-of-war between doing and resting. I don’t know if you ever feel this way, but when I let myself slow down, I start questioning if I’m being “productive” enough. The culture we live in makes it hard to embrace slowing down. We’re constantly bombarded with the idea that we need to hustle harder, wake up earlier and work longer hours to get where we want to go. But I’m learning (or should I say, reminding myself) that the work we do when we’re rested is far more effective. And if I really want to show up for the people I’m building with and for, I need to take care of myself first. For me, this has meant really listening to my body. There were a couple of days where I just didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. And instead of pushing through, I let myself sleep. I didn’t feel guilty about it, though I almost always do at first. The tension between wanting to do and needing to rest is something I constantly struggle with. But I’ve come to realize that rest is more than just physical. It’s emotional, mental, and spiritual. It’s about honoring the pace that’s right for you, not the one that everyone else seems to be going at. And then there’s doubt. Oh, how it shows up, especially when you least expect it. I think every entrepreneur goes through this cycle of doubt, sometimes it’s subtle, like a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Other times, it’s more obvious, like when you question every decision you make or wonder if you’re just spinning your wheels. Doubt isn’t something that magically disappears when you hit a certain milestone or “make it.” If anything, it morphs into new forms. The doubt I’m experiencing now doesn’t feel like it did when I first started out. Back then, it was more about the big picture, about whether I could make it at all. Now, it’s more about the fine-tuning, the how, the small decisions that pile up. And I’ve realized that doubt doesn’t have to be a negative force. In fact, it can be a compass that guides me to question assumptions, think deeper, and challenge myself. I also found myself reflecting on the importance of showing up, even when things don’t go according to plan. Take yesterday for example. I had a session for Founders Pause and I made every rookie mistake in the book. I forgot my headphones, the sound was off, and I was sure that everyone in the session was frustrated with me. It was awkward and uncomfortable. But here’s what I’ve come to realize: despite all of my anxiety about that session, people were still connecting. They were still engaging. And by the end, I saw how the format worked, how the vulnerability and honesty in the conversation created a space where others could open up. That experience made me think about imperfection, about how we often try to avoid mistakes or hide them. But, the reality is that the most authentic connections happen when we embrace our imperfections. I’ve always been so hard on myself, but I’m learning that mistakes are part of the journey. They’re not just obstacles to overcome, they’re lessons in real time. They help me refine my approach, test my assumptions and adjust. That’s where the real growth happens. And let’s talk about connection, because, in all this reflection, that’s been the thread that’s held everything together. Lately, I’ve had some beautiful experiences of genuine human connection. One of them was with my cousin, Trang. Despite the language barrier, we managed to communicate in a way that felt almost effortless. She really listens, and there’s something so grounding about that. It reminded me of the power of truly being present with people, even if the conversation isn’t perfect, even if there’s a gap in understanding. That’s the kind of connection that matters most. I’ve had similar moments with friends, like Tuong, where we spent the whole day climbing, talking, and just being with each other. It wasn’t planned or forced, it was natural and effortless and those moments of connection have been some of the most fulfilling. Energy is everything when it comes to relationships. Over the years, I’ve spent a lot of time cultivating relationships with people who inspire me, who challenge me, and who make me feel understood. It’s easy to get caught up in the business of things and forget the importance of these human connections. But as I move forward, I realize that the best collaborations happen when there’s mutual respect and understanding. It’s not just about what we do, it’s about who we’re being when we show up. This has led me to reconsider my approach to relationships in both my personal and professional life. I’ve made the mistake of pushing for things that weren’t aligned, trying to force connections where they didn’t exist. But now, I trust the process more. I trust that the right people will show up at the right time and the best collaborations are the ones that feel effortless, grounded in trust and respect. I’ll leave you with this: there’s no one-size-fits-all journey. There’s no one “right” way to move through life or business. But as I’ve reflected on everything that’s been happening over the last few weeks, I’ve learned that growth is often messy, that doubt doesn’t mean I’m failing and that rest is just as important as action. All these pieces fit together. They aren’t separate, they’re part of the same process. So, what about you? Have you had moments lately where you felt unsure or disconnected? How do you manage those moments? I’d love to hear what’s been on your mind. Keep it simple, keep it fresh, smile and let it go. Yours truly, Trung This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theuncomfortzone.substack.com [https://theuncomfortzone.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

How Coding and Writing Are Secretly the Same

Chào các bạn, hello friends! I never thought I’d be writing about coding in this newsletter. Not because I don’t love it. I’ve been coding for years. It’s been a constant in my life through startups, big shifts, and moves across borders. But when I started this newsletter three months ago, it was for something else entirely. A different voice. A different need. I was writing to process what I was learning about holding space, for myself, for founders, for people close to the edge of big transformation. Writing became the place where I put the emotional data from the day: what I noticed in conversation, what shifted in me, what someone’s eyes did when they finally exhaled and felt safe. Thanks for reading The Uncomfort Zone! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. So when someone asked me recently, “Can you write about how coding and writing are similar?”, I paused. At first, it didn’t seem like it fit. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized: they’re actually really similar. It’s like this. In both writing and coding, you start with a vague idea and a weird mix of excitement and resistance. You sit down, and you try to turn something abstract into something real. You make a mess. You try again. Sometimes it works, most times it doesn’t. You break your own brain a little trying to solve something that feels just out of reach. And if you’re lucky, at some point you hit flow. The thing clicks. You read it or run it and go, Oh. That’s what I meant. I remember when I was first learning to code—there was this bug that just wouldn’t budge. No matter what I tried, the system didn’t behave the way I expected. After hours of staring at the screen, it hit me: I was too focused on the problem instead of stepping back and thinking creatively. I felt defeated, but I also realized that every failed attempt was simply part of the learning process. The same thing happens with writing, when you keep rewriting the first paragraph, trying to find the right angle. And then, finally, after multiple drafts, it just clicks. There’s a term in neuroscience for this: creative toggling. It’s the brain’s back-and-forth between generating raw ideas and shaping them into something that makes sense. It happens in coding. It happens in writing. And it happens every time we try to grow, emotionally, relationally, culturally. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s also the whole point. Creative toggling isn’t just about switching between different tasks. It’s about our brains bouncing back and forth between the idea of perfection and the reality of making something from nothing. It’s like trying to bake a cake without a recipe. You have a vague idea of how it should turn out, but you have to experiment with ingredients, temperature, and timing. Every step is a new iteration of the original vision. That’s the link I couldn’t see at first. Not the surface, syntax, spelling, structure, but the deeper rhythm. The rhythm of facing your doubt, iterating through discomfort, and trying again. For the founders I work with, the same principles apply. They start with a vision, often blurry, and spend months (sometimes years) iterating through it. But they don’t stop when things get tough. They keep pushing forward. Whether they’re building a business or navigating their own personal growth, the process is similar: testing, refining, and making space for their mistakes. That’s where I see coding and writing collide with entrepreneurship. It’s a continuous cycle of creation and reinvention. So if you’ve ever felt that same doubt about trying something new, especially something creative, I get it. But I also want to say: that feeling means you’re doing something important. It means you’re stretching. It means you care. You don’t need to be “a writer” to write. Or “a founder” to build something. Or “ready” to begin. You just have to start. I thought when I started writing this newsletter that I would be more confident. But the truth is, writing has been more vulnerable for me than coding. I’m used to being “correct” in code, but here, every word feels like a choice, and there’s always a fear that I’m not communicating clearly enough. It’s been humbling. But it’s also been rewarding. I’m learning to trust the process and trust myself more with each piece. If you’re already started, what’s one small piece you can work on today? Just one line. One decision. You can cut the elephant to fit it through the door. What if I told you the hardest part of creation is simply getting started? And that’s not just true for writers and coders. It’s true for anyone trying to make something new, an idea, a product, or even a change in their own life. The biggest shift doesn’t come from having it all figured out. It comes from taking that first step, no matter how small. And the amazing thing is, once you start, you’ve already made it further than most people who are still waiting for the “right moment” or the “perfect time.” You’ve already crossed the first line. And if you’re stuck, just take one small step today. That’s how we move forward. If you’re a coder, how has that shaped how you approach life outside the keyboard?If you’re a creative, how do you manage your self-doubt? I’d really love to hear what this brings up for you, hit reply and let me know. Lately, I’ve been noticing that the space I try to hold for others, especially other Viet Kieu and locals, other dreamers and misfits, is shaped by the same code. Whether we’re debugging a script or an identity, the question is the same: Can we make space for the mess, without shutting down? And maybe more importantly: Can we keep going anyway? If you’ve ever tried to explain what you’re building to your family back home, and watched their faces twist into polite confusion, you know what I mean. It’s not just code or writing. It’s a whole way of trying to make sense in a world that sometimes doesn’t know where to place you. It’s that space in between the idea and the execution, between the vision and the result, that gets the most difficult. It’s in those moments of doubt and uncertainty where we either decide to give up or push forward. But that’s where the magic happens, in the mess, in the iterations, in the willingness to embrace imperfection. As always, I don’t write this pretending I have answers. Just moments. And I know those moments are mine, shaped by the particular privilege I’ve had, access, safety, time. That’s not universal. But I hope the feeling underneath it is something we share. So, whether you’re coding, writing, or just figuring things out, here’s to making space for your own mess, taking one small step forward, and knowing that it’s all part of the process. Keep it simple, keep it fresh, smile and let it go. Yours Truly,Trung This is a public episode. 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