Building in Public: The Power of Being the Relatable Hero

If you spend any time in the creator or startup world, you’ve definitely heard the advice: “Build in public.” It’s become this holy-grail mantra. I’ve heard it tossed around on podcasts, plastered across Twitter, repeated by founders, coaches, investors, and every growth-hacking thread on the internet.

Somewhere along the way, “build in public” stopped being about connection and started sounding more like:

“Just post more!”

“It doesn’t have to make sense, just keep it moving.”

“Consistency matters more than substance, so just get something out.”

These are the phrases the startup world can’t stop repeating and it’s even the same advice I’ve given to small businesses trying to grow. But nobody ever explains what building in public actually means. Am I supposed to screenshot my spreadsheets? Should I hit “record” when I’m overwhelmed at midnight? Do people really want to see the wins, the losses, or the painfully mediocre days where nothing special happens?

For me, Amanda Goetz’s talk at the Startup Mountain Summit 2025 felt like a breath of fresh air. She broke down the traits that make creators who build in public so successful and offered a simple, clear definition of what building in public should actually look like. Building in public isn’t just showing your wins—it’s becoming a relatable hero.

What Amanda reframed so clearly is that building in public isn’t about documenting every moment—it’s about inviting people into the journey. The creators who do this well don’t position themselves as experts on a pedestal; they position themselves as someone a few steps ahead, openly sharing their thinking, tradeoffs, and lessons along the way. The process becomes the content. Instead of chasing constant wins or viral moments, building in public becomes a way to create trust by showing how decisions are made, how problems are worked through, and how progress occurs in real life.

Well, it’s a lot easier to start with what it isn’t. It’s not only sharing your highlight reel. It’s not bragging so hard that people are rolling their eyes at their screen. And it’s definitely not pretending your entire life is perfectly curated.

A relatable hero is the person who says, “Come with me. Let’s figure this out together.” It’s shifting from broadcasting your achievements to inviting people into the messy, honest, real parts of the journey — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Amanda said it perfectly:

Most people think building in public means “watch me succeed,” but the real version is “watch me learn, help me build, and let’s try this together.”

That’s where the trust comes from. That’s how people actually start rooting for you. Because if you want a village, you have to be a villager.

At the Summit, Amanda told the story of applying to speak on a women’s empowerment panel — and getting rejected because she “didn’t have enough social influence.” She was annoyed, tweeted about it, got on a plane, went to sleep, and woke up in India to 10,000 new followers.

This didn’t happen because she bragged or because she pitched anything. It happened because she told the truth. She talked about balancing a massive marketing career at The Knot, three little kids under four, a divorce, the chaos, the learning, all of it.

By being real, she became the fastest-growing woman on Twitter. Eight months later, the same company that turned her down picked up the phone and asked if she wanted to be their CEO,  How ironic.

There are three different kinds of relatable heroes we all follow online:

First there’s the lighthouse: this is the person shining from a distance, polished, motivational, waking up at 5am to cold plunge and take olive oil shots. You don’t totally relate, but they kind of keep you going.

Then there’s the flashlight:  someone you barely see, but you see everything they illuminate. The ideas, the habits, the conversations they point you toward. They’re not the star; they’re the guide.

And finally, the porch light: this person has warm, welcoming, “grab a sweet tea and sit with me” energy. They invite you into their world, not as an audience, but as a companion. They share the highs and the lows, and somehow you leave feeling lighter, understood, and motivated.

That one feels the most like Amanda. She said building in public is basically turning on your porch light and saying:

“I’m figuring this out — come sit with me while I do.”

And the reason this works is because people want fingerprints on your journey. At the Summit, she also told the story of House of Wise, how she tweeted a small seed of an idea in 2020, and people started DMing her. She let them shape the product, the packaging, the brand. She pulled them onto the porch with her.

So when she launched, 500 women posted about it on day one because they felt like co-founders.

“When people feel emotionally invested, they show up for you. They cheer for you. They help you grow.”

Everyone online loves to scream, “just post!” but never explains how. Amanda actually did.

It all comes back to her PORCH method: present your reality, open the door to conversation, reflect rather than report, connect your story back to what you’re building, and help others because relationships matter more than algorithms. And when you do all of that, the internet becomes warm again. It becomes human again. It stops being transactional.

And honestly, if you’re a founder wondering whether you should build in public, consider this your sign. Attention is expensive. Trust is priceless. And the founders, creators, and builders who will survive the next era (especially in a world full of AI) will be the ones who still feel like real people.

So the next time you’re deep in your founder journey whether you’re feeling excited, overwhelmed, debating between two types of packaging, or feeling absolutely hopeless — pause whatever you’re doing.

I could try to explain what to do next, but Amanda said it best:

“Close the laptop. Pick up your phone. Write something. Record something. Ask a question. Invite someone into the moment!”

Slowly, you’ll build a community that’s not here for the destination.

They’re here for the journey.

For your journey.

And that is the whole point of building in public.