Pinned — 28 Oct 2025 #codingStreet-Smart Coding: 30 Ways to Get Better at Coding Without Losing Your Mind
I spent five years in college learning to code.
A stupid dissertation delayed my graduation. But that’s another story.
Most of my five-year program didn’t prepare me for real-world coding. My real coding journey began at my first job, with one Google search: “how to get good at coding.”
I found a lot of conflicting advice:
“Use comments”
“Don’t use comments”
“Do this”
“Don’t do that”
Arrggg!
It took years of trial and error to learn what worked.
I had to survive on-call shifts, talk to stakeholders, and say “no” politely. More importantly, I had to learn that coding takes more than just syntax.
That’s why I wrote Street-Smart Coding— a roadmap of 30 lessons I wish I had when I started. For every dev who’s ever typed “how to get better at coding” into Google or ChatGPT. (Back in my days, I didn’t have ChatGPT… Wait, I sound like a nostalgic grandpa…)
Preview of the first ~12 pages
Inside “Street-Smart Coding”
This isn’t a textbook. It’s a battle-tested guide for your journey from junior/mid-level to senior.
Some lessons are conventional.
Others were learned the hard way.
And a few are weird.
One lesson comes from a TV show. Nope, not Mr. Robot or Silicon Valley. That’s on Chapter #29. It will teach you about problem-solving.
You’ll learn how to:
Google like a pro
Debug without banging your head against a wall
Communicate clearly with non-tech folks
…and 27 more lessons I learned over ten years of mistakes.
The most popular posts were often the ones I spent less time editing.
Some were only to avoid breaking the chain.
The ones I poured my soul into resonated less.
Too much tweaking dilutes the real message and hides your true voice.
Maybe that’s why rants go viral and invite replies.
They feel raw and authentic.
From the inverse effort effect, not every post is a winner.
But unread posts still count: as practice, as a data point, as one time capsule entry.
Definitely not time wasted.
Likes and attention are tempting.
I’ve questioned if a blog is the right place to be.
Writers I follow on social media have already moved to Substack.
Everybody seems to be thriving there.
Sometimes blog aggregators make me rush to count votes each morning.
Analytics, votes, replies, mentions…
“How did my posts do yesterday?”
Every afternoon, I get outside to breathe fresh air and stretch my legs.
I’ve noticed how my mood changes when I do it.
Even if that’s just to walk around my block.
Maybe I’m just convincing myself to keep walking.
I leave my phone behind every time.
On Sundays, I go analog.
To capture ideas, I use old receipts and a tiny pencil that fits into my wallet.
I’ve learned not to rely on my phone for notes.
Paper doesn’t run out of battery.
Those walks have inspired most of my posts.
For the last 100 posts, I’ve published more stories from small life moments.
Not keeping a phone in my pocket makes me notice the world.
Who would have thought it?
Voice
Beyond walking, the last 100 posts felt different.
A post doesn’t feel like an assignment anymore.
It feels more like a spark to capture.
Some sparks need more words.
Others just a couple of sentences.
Feedback from outsiders can tempt you to reshape work not meant for them.
Write a bean soup recipe for girls needing iron, and someone will ask, “What if I don’t like beans?” Then comes the temptation to tweak it.
Replace bean soup with creative work and the principle still applies.
My first product was an intermediate video course on unit testing.
When I asked an ex-coworker for feedback, he asked:
“Did you include about AI to generate tests? Did you also include…?”
Being the founder of a startup incubator, it’s not a surprise he recommends starting a successful startup.
For that, he recommends building something people like so much they tell friends share about.
For that, solve a need of yours.
And for that, build projects just for fun.
“We have these tote bags. They’re so practical,” she told me.
I was secretly buying a birthday present for my sister.
“I’m looking for Hello Kitty merch,” I told her when I entered the store.
My sister was turning 30, but still adored Hello Kitty.
She left the register and guided me to a red aisle with almost every Hello Kitty item you can imagine.
When I showed her a photo of my sister, she recommended the right lipstick—Hello Kitty-themed, of course.
“OK, I trust you,” I said and went with her recommendation.
After a few minutes, buying a lotion…
Moments later, I was in a skin-care store.
It was a single-aisle store, bottles of all sizes behind bright, mirrored selves.
I pulled out my phone and showed a photo of the lotion I needed to buy.
“Have you used it before?” the cashier asked me.
“It’s an errand,” I said.
“You can buy a refill instead,” she searched for the lotion on the shelves.
“Did you know that’s only the first step in a good skincare routine?” she said.
“You also need…,” she started to list other products I didn’t know about.
I only said thanks and smiled.
I wasn’t really a client.
I didn’t know about their products or skincare routines.
I had said I was there to buy one exact product.
The lotion from the photo.
Guess who offered me a better service?
The first one: the one where I bought the Hello Kitty bag.
I said what I needed and got exactly that.
Lesson: Meet your clients, readers, prospects, or whoever where they’re at.
Sometimes help is giving them what they asked for.
That’s the best customer service.
