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.
I’ve had only one job that fit all the definitions of a toxic place. Inexperienced management, competing deadlines, scope creep… To cope with the 9-5, I hung out with coworkers, worked out, and engaged in hobbies. That kept me sane. But it wasn’t the job that burned me out. It taught me enough lessons for a book.
The way to the exit door was clear. When the pain is real. So is the urge to leave.
The job that burned me out
A few years later, I landed my best job.
I was working from home, learning new subjects, and making a good salary. It wasn’t Silicon Valley, but it was where most coders wanted to be. It turned out more painful than my “worst” job.
Everything was good until the honeymoon ended. Another project doing the same tasks. No new roles for me. All seats were already taken. Same grind, same story.
This time, the way out wasn’t that clear. Updating a CV to play the hiring game made staying seem tolerable. “The pay is good.”“I don’t work overtime.”“I’ll wait until I finish this project.” Meanwhile, hiring trends were tougher and tougher each year.
The next thing I knew, I was rushing to the bathroom. It wasn’t to throw up, but I’ll spare the details.
My job became a burden. I rushed to finish my daily tasks and skipped my meals. Painful mistake! That brought stomach issues. When I least expected it, I was sick and burned out. The way down was slow. But the way up was more painful and slower.
Lesson: If it makes you sick, you don’t need more signs to leave.
My most painful and expensive career mistake
Not having a career plan was my biggest, most painful, and expensive mistake.
I didn’t stop to think what I wanted out of my career. Money, title, connections, challenge? Maybe my only plan was to gain experience and make some money. Whatever that meant for my past self.
Lesson: Choose wisely. Or wait to leave when sick, bored, fired, or burned out.
A plan or intention would have made me move out and saved me a lot of pain. But like a frog in a pot, the water wasn’t boiling, it was slowly heating up. By the time I noticed the exit sign, the damage was already done.
AI speeds up code generation. Everything else is as slow as it has always been. And more code means more reviews, builds, approvals, and bugs. More paperwork.
I wanted to quit blogging for a while. But I reminded myself: like an athlete, a writer must practice daily, or at least consistently. And stumbling upon Seth Godin’s 10,000 daily posts inspired me to keep pushing. I know I’m far from hitting that number.
For these last 100 posts, balancing health and writing wasn’t easy, but it taught me the value of doing nothing and resting after a sprint of intense work.
For the last phase, I offered free copies as gifts to “advance readers” in exchange for an honest review.
As a fan of 10-idea lists, I wrote a list of 10 e-friends, ended up messaging 12, and heard back from 6. Two read it but weren’t eligible to review. (Amazon requires $50 in purchases within the last year.) Two managed to leave reviews. One was rejected, the other approved. A 5-star review. Hooray!
Here’s the review on Amazon:
Short but sweet
One sale plus one review. Proof that the experiment is working.
“Short but sweet” shows you don’t need thousands of pages to write a book that matters.
One of the tasks was coming up with title ideas. One of the participants had an immigration practice helping people move to Australia. While he waited for the perfect title, I suggested Aussie Job and follow-ups like Aussie Colleges and Aussie Marriages.
I don’t know which title he chose or if he even wrote the book. I just checked Amazon and there’s no Aussie Job. Insert shrugging emoji.
As a fan of 10-idea lists, that exercise was a piece of cake. It was just another daily prompt for ideas.
That workshop pushed me to keep writing my 10 ideas daily.
3.
Don’t wait for a perfect book title, blog post subject, or business idea.
Chasing the “perfect” idea leaves you blocked, waiting for inspiration. Aim for 10 guilt-free bad ideas. Among those you’ll find a decent one that leads you to the right idea.
Put your work out there. Show it. If people like it, they will engage with it and remember it. Otherwise, they won’t.
I’ve published over 600 posts over the years (half of them reposted on Medium and dev.to). Not every single post is a hit. Good ones stand out. People like, comment, and share them. Others go without “fame or glory.”
Then the work is to have more bad ideas, find the least bad, and share them. Rinse and repeat.
Sharif Shameem shared a similar idea. He calls it, Aadil’s Law, named after a friend:
The amount of stupidity you’re willing to tolerate is directly proportional to the quality of ideas you’ll eventually produce
Be willing to look stupid. Write 10 bad ideas every day and let the good ones emerge.
