First things first, for the sake of consistency, I apologize for missing last week's post due to a family issue.

So far, we keep building. Amid the current experiments with the first few tokens on testnet for Bilita Mpash, I wanted to share a kind of an obvious insight that became groundbreaking for my naive project manager's mind. Come to think about it now, as we started a series of the current project's lineup months ago, the main thing I had to let go of after diving head-on into web3 development was the notion of "whatever it takes, do it for free." My teammates never quite understood where that stuff came from. But looking back, there was a pretty extended period when I believed that a well-spoken motivational speech was a better suit than any money in the world. Why? Because the content production taught me that it was painful but possible. In a sense, we can all pull through if a higher goal is there and highlighted for us, I believe. And for my job, this shit had worked for a while. Years later, that notion bit me extremely hard in the early stages of Bilita development.

My first commercial gig (like, six years ago) involved a lo-fi jazzy hip-hop artist who wanted a "cool rap video" for literally zero. The director was fond of him and basically pitched the idea of a music video for potential financing. In reply, the artist said that the concept was excellent, and he really wanted to do it – but the budget was zero. But he was the first person from the outside world who said "yes" to us, so we happily agreed to sacrifice everything for the next few months to release this music video. That's how we assembled our first production team: we found the assistant director, DOP (with all the free gear), editor, and a costume designer. Talking with each person separately, we passionately described how important this artist was for the market (he was not), and the video and the whole production went on a fast track to success. The final budget was approximately 200-500$, which included food and transportation only—lunch money. A few months later, after the gruelling winter production and a couple of burned-out PCs, the video became a success. Many local media outlets penned a few stories about our team, and the views count was moderate enough to prove the success story to the next client. As for the lo-fi guy, he never even acknowledged our work, and we've never been in contact ever since.

So imagine that literally, our first commercial experience was like, "oh wow, it really worked – then we could make almost anything for free now." The notion stayed in some form or the other: for my whole production career, I never remember a time when the budget was, well, sufficient enough to stop worrying and convincing people to work with us. Every shoot became a fight for other people's time and resources. At some point, we stopped creating projects with that same bunch of guys simply because everyone was so tired of making motivational speeches in front of new freelancers for every project. Our motto at that time was to persuade each new member to death, and then they'll agree (at some point). Although we parted ways, the core team went in separate directions keeping the same notion – making great things for free is entirely possible. Myself included. Leaving that work environment, you can't help but keep thinking that if there's ever an opportunity to do something for free, you should accomplish it at all costs. As far as I'm aware, to this day, a low-cost production maximalism approach in Russia in the constant lack of anything is perceived as a noble thing and a worthy challenge for a genuinely exceptional producer.

People working in content production are exceptional. They are willing to withstand long hours and challenging conditions for as little or no pay and a promise of future greatness. And that's unlike anything I've witnessed in IT and web3. The developers, engineers, and designers know what they are worth. They value the time on their hands and are not fans of the "tomorrow there'll be legends spoken about you" group narrative. That's why the money question always comes first – and all the rest follows, including my previously beloved chat on career motivations and perspectives of this particular product we're creating. And as we pushed deeper into Bilita, I slowly accepted that you're smart enough already to let go of the "make whatever for free" idea. In an environment where there's a new advantageous project being born worldwide every minute, the motivational speech alone will no longer count. Not in this economy and under these circumstances.

In the end, It's all about respect. That's the paradigm I keep repeating to myself just to eliminate this absurd "low-cost at all times" mentality. People who taught me the basics of content production never acknowledged people down the crew line. It's not that they never paid anybody – but instead, they were looking for every little opportunity to cut costs here and there: one guy can do the work of three separate people, that kind of stuff. And all this thinking was based on the idea of a limited budget. "We all suffer here," they're used to tell. The migration into web3 taught me that it's better to wait for good financial times (or make some prototypes piece by piece yourself to move the work off the ground) than involve people in miserable conditions. The final result will always suck if the only thing that unites people inside a project is a shaky motivation and a promise of greatness. People can find greatness almost anywhere, so you have to prove and show how valuable they are to you. That's how great things are born.

Talk to you soon.

First things first, for the sake of consistency, I apologize for missing last week's post due to a family issue.

So far, we keep building. Amid the current experiments with the first few tokens on testnet for Bilita Mpash, I wanted to share a kind of an obvious insight that became groundbreaking for my naive project manager's mind. Come to think about it now, as we started a series of the current project's lineup months ago, the main thing I had to let go of after diving head-on into web3 development was the notion of "whatever it takes, do it for free." My teammates never quite understood where that stuff came from. But looking back, there was a pretty extended period when I believed that a well-spoken motivational speech was a better suit than any money in the world. Why? Because the content production taught me that it was painful but possible. In a sense, we can all pull through if a higher goal is there and highlighted for us, I believe. And for my job, this shit had worked for a while. Years later, that notion bit me extremely hard in the early stages of Bilita development.

My first commercial gig (like, six years ago) involved a lo-fi jazzy hip-hop artist who wanted a "cool rap video" for literally zero. The director was fond of him and basically pitched the idea of a music video for potential financing. In reply, the artist said that the concept was excellent, and he really wanted to do it – but the budget was zero. But he was the first person from the outside world who said "yes" to us, so we happily agreed to sacrifice everything for the next few months to release this music video. That's how we assembled our first production team: we found the assistant director, DOP (with all the free gear), editor, and a costume designer. Talking with each person separately, we passionately described how important this artist was for the market (he was not), and the video and the whole production went on a fast track to success. The final budget was approximately 200-500$, which included food and transportation only—lunch money. A few months later, after the gruelling winter production and a couple of burned-out PCs, the video became a success. Many local media outlets penned a few stories about our team, and the views count was moderate enough to prove the success story to the next client. As for the lo-fi guy, he never even acknowledged our work, and we've never been in contact ever since.

So imagine that literally, our first commercial experience was like, "oh wow, it really worked – then we could make almost anything for free now." The notion stayed in some form or the other: for my whole production career, I never remember a time when the budget was, well, sufficient enough to stop worrying and convincing people to work with us. Every shoot became a fight for other people's time and resources. At some point, we stopped creating projects with that same bunch of guys simply because everyone was so tired of making motivational speeches in front of new freelancers for every project. Our motto at that time was to persuade each new member to death, and then they'll agree (at some point). Although we parted ways, the core team went in separate directions keeping the same notion – making great things for free is entirely possible. Myself included. Leaving that work environment, you can't help but keep thinking that if there's ever an opportunity to do something for free, you should accomplish it at all costs. As far as I'm aware, to this day, a low-cost production maximalism approach in Russia in the constant lack of anything is perceived as a noble thing and a worthy challenge for a genuinely exceptional producer.

People working in content production are exceptional. They are willing to withstand long hours and challenging conditions for as little or no pay and a promise of future greatness. And that's unlike anything I've witnessed in IT and web3. The developers, engineers, and designers know what they are worth. They value the time on their hands and are not fans of the "tomorrow there'll be legends spoken about you" group narrative. That's why the money question always comes first – and all the rest follows, including my previously beloved chat on career motivations and perspectives of this particular product we're creating. And as we pushed deeper into Bilita, I slowly accepted that you're smart enough already to let go of the "make whatever for free" idea. In an environment where there's a new advantageous project being born worldwide every minute, the motivational speech alone will no longer count. Not in this economy and under these circumstances.

In the end, It's all about respect. That's the paradigm I keep repeating to myself just to eliminate this absurd "low-cost at all times" mentality. People who taught me the basics of content production never acknowledged people down the crew line. It's not that they never paid anybody – but instead, they were looking for every little opportunity to cut costs here and there: one guy can do the work of three separate people, that kind of stuff. And all this thinking was based on the idea of a limited budget. "We all suffer here," they're used to tell. The migration into web3 taught me that it's better to wait for good financial times (or make some prototypes piece by piece yourself to move the work off the ground) than involve people in miserable conditions. The final result will always suck if the only thing that unites people inside a project is a shaky motivation and a promise of greatness. People can find greatness almost anywhere, so you have to prove and show how valuable they are to you. That's how great things are born.

Talk to you soon.