A practical approach to moving from an idea to something that actually exists.
Most of us have ideas. Ideas for businesses. Books. Apps. Products. Podcasts. Art. Inventions. Adventures.
Some are poor.
Some are great.
There's a difference between having an idea, and creating something you can see, use, read, buy, hear, or experience. My conversation with comic book creator Corissa Grant is an example. Corissa didn't begin with a business plan to create a comic-book company. She and her writing partner were writing stories because they enjoyed doing it. They had created the equivalent of roughly 50 issues before seriously asking:
Could we do something with this?
That question started a process that became Worthy Chaos Comics. The interesting part isn't that she succeeded. It's everything that happened between having the idea and having something real.
Start Before You Know What It Is
One of the easiest ways to prevent an idea from becoming real is to believe you need to know exactly what you're creating before you begin. Corissa didn't.
She and her writing partner had stories. They considered turning them into traditional written stories. That didn't seem right for what they had created.
Then the objective became smaller. Maybe they would simply make a few physical copies for themselves. They hired an artist to create a cover. Seeing that artwork changed the idea.
Why not make it a comic?
We imagine creation happening in the opposite order: Have complete idea → develop complete plan → execute plan → finished product. Sometimes it works that way. More often, the thing you're trying to create becomes clearer because you start creating it.
The first version doesn't have to be the answer.
It can help you discover the answer.
Make Something You Can React To
Corissa's experience illustrates why you need something real to evaluate an idea. It might be a website, a prototype, a recording, a drawing, or a sample.
Her first attempt at producing the comic cost about $5,000.
She didn't like it.
She started over.
That's an expensive lesson. Before the comic existed, Corissa imagined what it should be. Once it existed, however, she saw what was wrong with it. You can debate an imaginary product forever.
A real version gives you something to test:
Do I actually like this?
Does it work?
What needs to change?
Would anyone pay for it?
Is this even the thing I thought I was creating?
Making something creates information that thinking alone cannot.
Don't Confuse the First Version With the Idea
This is where people can get stuck. You finally make something, and it isn't very good.
It's tempting to conclude:
The idea didn't work.
That's not what you've learned. Maybe that version didn't work. Corissa didn't like the first comic she paid to have created. She could have stopped there. Instead, she changed what wasn't working and kept going. This is true of almost everything I've created. A first version has tremendous value even when it's bad because it changes the problem.
You're no longer asking: How do I make this?
You're asking: How do I make this better?
That's an easier problem to solve.
Find the People Who Can Do What You Can't
Turning an idea into something real doesn't mean doing everything yourself. Corissa writes comics.That doesn't mean she personally performs every task required to manufacture a comic book.
There are artists, cover artists, printers and other people involved in turning the story into the physical product. She has worked with hundreds of artists over time, and now helps other independent creators connect with artists.:
Creating something yourself is not the same as personally doing everything required to create it.
Maybe you have the idea - and you can't program.
Maybe you can write - and you can't illustrate.
Maybe you can invent a product and don't know anything about manufacturing.
Maybe you can build something, and you can't sell it.
The question doesn't have to be, can I do all of this? It can be:
What part can I do- and who or what do I need - for the rest?
Eventually, Someone Has to Pay for It
There's another transition that happens when an idea becomes real.
It starts costing money. Corissa says producing a single issue can cost roughly $3,000 to $5,000 before printing and merchandise. That's when the project stops being only a creative exercise and starts becoming an economic problem.
Where does the money come from?
In Corissa's case, one answer has been Kickstarter. Her first campaign brought in about $899. Her second brought in approximately $2,800. Those numbers are interesting as they don't tell the fairy-tale version of entrepreneurship.
She didn't put an idea on Kickstarter, raise millions of dollars and suddenly have a successful company. She started with a relatively small group of people willing to support something she was making.
Then she did it again.
And again.
The business grew around the work.
You Don't Need a Huge Audience
Corissa's told me she has around 100 to 150 people backing a campaign. Some spend considerably more than the minimum amount because they want special covers, merchandise and other items associated with the comics.
That's not millions of followers.
It's not thousands of customers.
It's a small group who care about what she's making.
Corissa also told me something revealing about her earliest supporters. At first, some people supported the project because they liked her. They didn't yet know whether the comic would be good. The relationship came before the product had established a track record.
Over time, that changes.
People start coming back because they want the next issue. At conventions, she now has readers specifically seek out her table because they bought earlier books and want more. That's a different kind of validation from a like, view or follower.
Someone wants the next thing you make.
Trust is Part of the Product
Corissa does something else with Kickstarter that caught my attention. She doesn't wait for the Kickstarter money to create the product. She has the product in hand before launching the campaign.
Why?
Trust.
Crowdfunding has a problem. You're asking someone to give you money for something that doesn't exist yet. Sometimes it never exists. Corissa wanted her customers to know that what they were buying was real. She says she generally ships within two weeks.
That's a useful example of solving a problem from the customer's perspective. Instead of asking, "How do I convince people to trust me," she removed the reason they might not.
The product exists.
She can show it to you.
You can decide whether you want it.
Marketing Means Finding Where Your People Are
Making something real doesn't mean anyone will discover it. Corissa learned that too. She told me she had appeared on roughly 222 podcasts over two years, sometimes doing 25 to 42 podcast appearances around a campaign.
Why?
She needed a way to get her story in front of people. She says conventional advertising hadn't worked well for her, so she found another route.
She experimented with comic conventions, and found that a bigger audience wasn't necessarily abetter audience. She described attending a large convention in Lexington where the table alone cost $350. With travel and other expenses, she estimated spending more than $600 and making only about $100. People were there primarily to see actors. It was loud. She couldn't effectively tell people about her work.
Meanwhile, she returns to a convention in Nashville where people actually come looking for her. Exposure isn't always useful exposure. A thousand people walking past who aren't interested in what you're making is less valuable than ten people who are.
Pay Attention to What Works
Corissa created a lot of merchandise: metal trading cards. Bookmarks. Prints. Pens. Plushies. Special covers. Other independent creators thought she was crazy for doing so. Then some started asking her where she was getting the merchandise made.
Watching what everyone else does can be useful. Ultimately, pay attention to what actually happens when you try something.
If everyone tells you something won't work, and it doesn't work, you learned something.
If everyone tells you something won't work, and customers keep buying it, you learned something.
Don't Wait for the Dream to Look Like the Dream
There's a romantic version of turning an idea into reality: You have a brilliant idea. You believe in yourself. You take a chance. It succeeds.
Corissa's story isn't like that.
She wrote because she enjoyed writing. The writing gradually became something larger. The format changed. She hired people.
She spent money.
The first version wasn't right.
She started again.
She tried advertising.
She tried conventions.
Some lost money.
She appeared on hundreds of podcasts.She built Kickstarter campaigns. She made merchandise people initially thought was excessive. She developed relationships with a relatively small group of customers.
She kept producing.
That's what turning an idea into something real looks like - messy.
Sometimes expensive.
Uncertai and iterative.
How You Can Turn an Idea Into Something Real
There's not a universal formula.
Corissa's experience suggests a useful sequence:
Start doing something before you completely understand what it will become.
Make the smallest version that's real enough for you or someone else to react to.
Look at what happens.
If it doesn't work, determine whether the idea failed, or that version of it failed.
Find people who can do the things you can't.
Put the work in front of real people.
Notice who cares.
Notice what they'll pay for, and notice what they come back for.
Don't spend forever trying to answer every question before you start.
There's one thing an idea inside your head can't give you: feedback from reality.
At some point, you have to make something.
Then reality gets a vote.
Learn More About Corissa Grant, and Worthy Chaos Comics
Worthy Chaos Devastation Comics
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthychaoscomics/worthy-chaos-devastation
Worthy Chaos Redemption Books 1 & 2 plus HARDCOVERS (Issues 1-12)
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/worthychaoscomics/worthy-chaos-redemption-hardcover
Editor’s Note
This article is based on my podcast interview with Corissa Grant. The ideas discussed here originate from that conversation. The structure, emphasis, and commentary are my own. Any errors or interpretations should be attributed to me, not to Corissa Grant.
About the Author
Daniel Stih (danielstih.com) is an aerospace engineer, software engineer, indoor environmental consultant, and author of 12 books. For more 30 years, he has investigated complex problems spanning engineering, technology, the built environment, and human decision-making. His work explores how evidence, assumptions, and systems shape the conclusions we draw—and whether we're solving the right problem. Learn more about his approach in Why I Think This Way.