This is part of the A to Z of Building Solo. 26 lessons from my experience as a solo, non-technical founder. No theory. Nothing borrowed. Just what I learned the hard way building Shezaar. New letters drop every Friday.
I was sitting in a Zoom waiting room, less than a minute from pitching in front of a panel of VCs and founders. I was nervous, of course. But more than that, I was confused.
This was my first pitch competition. I’d talked to a lot of founders and VCs to prepare. The advice I kept getting was: “Be authentic.” Just be yourself, tell your story, and it will land.
And in that moment, less than a minute from pitching, I had a million questions going through my head. What does authentic even mean? How authentic am I supposed to be? If someone asks about the hard stuff, should I share all of it or give a polished business answer? Should I admit what I don’t know?
I had no idea what expectation of authenticity people had, or where the line was between “refreshingly real” and “this person clearly isn’t ready.”
I did not win that competition. But I’ve spent a lot of time since then figuring out what “being authentic” actually looks like in practice. Through pitches, brand calls, cold emails, internal meetings, and every awkward networking event in between.
Starting from the truth
Authenticity isn’t the same as transparency. You don’t owe everyone the full picture. But the picture you do show has to be real.
In the early days of building Shezaar, whenever someone asked me why I wanted to build it, I gave them what I thought was a smart answer. I usually said something like “I want to play a part in reducing fashion’s waste.” That was true, but it didn’t tell my why. It sounded like a mission statement, not a reason. Which probably made it sound very disingenuous.
Until one day I just told someone the actual story.
I was standing in a warehouse in Peru, at a social enterprise that collected and redistributed used clothing. I saw the heaps of clothes they had, and this was just what had arrived that week. The director shared how they faced an impossible choice: accept new donations and figure out what to do with them, or reject donations and scramble for inventory when you’re in need.
That is when I decided that the burden of the fashion industry’s waste should not land on the shoulders of those trying to do better. We needed to solve this at the brand level.
When I told that story, the people in front of me actually listened. Not because I’d decided to “be myself” but because I was specific enough that they could picture it. They felt my pain and my passion, and that was authentic.
How much is too much?
But finding my story was only half the problem. The harder question was how much of myself to share, and when.
In one of her articles on personal branding, Wes Kao, co-founder of Maven, wrote something that stuck with me:
“I don’t know if I believe there’s one true way to be ‘authentic.’ We can be different versions of ourselves in different settings, in different contexts, with different people.”
As a solo founder, you are every department. But you get to choose which version of yourself shows up in which room.
I didn’t walk into brand partnership calls and tell them “I’m a solo founder and I’m figuring this out as I go.” Not because it wasn’t true. It was. But because it wasn’t relevant to what they needed to know. They needed to know that I could move their dead inventory. And I could.
But on a call with a potential advisor, I did share that I was building alone and figuring out my go-to-market. Because in that room, with that person, that honesty was useful. It gave them the context they needed to actually help me.
Same facts. Different rooms.
What I wish someone had told me
If I could sit down with you the way I wish someone had sat down with me, I’d say one thing: find your anchor.
This is your why. Not the polished version. The real one. The specific moment that made you unable to not build this thing. Practice saying it until you can do it in 30 seconds without thinking. When everything else feels performed, when you’re nervous or underprepared or caught off guard, this anchor is the one thing that will always be true. That’s your north star.
But I’ll be honest, knowing this didn’t fix everything for me overnight. I still walked into calls unsure of how much to share. I still sent cold emails that sounded like a press release. I still over-explained at networking events and walked away cringing.
Understanding what authenticity means is the easy part. Actually being authentic, consistently, when you’re tired or underprepared or talking to someone who intimidates you, that’s a skill. And like any skill, it takes a process and a bit of practice.
It took me months of bad calls and awkward conversations to build a system that made authenticity feel natural instead of forced. So, on Tuesday, I’m sharing the exact playbook: the self-audit that changed how I understood my own communication style and the three questions I ask before every single call.
Interesting! For me Substack made me think about my key beliefs because they needed come across in my writing. It's not that I didn't have them before. They were grounded in my thinking but they just weren't conscious. I think every single time I talked to someone I was telling a different story because my thinking about my - for the lack of a better word, branding - was just so scattered.