A wizard ordered one of everything. Here's why.

There's a wizard who lives in a real castle in the hills outside Austin. That's not a bit. Real castle, real wizard, and he happens to be a friend. So my wife, my business partners, and I drove out one morning to get his advice. Here's the lesson before the story, because you're busy: the thing that made his lunch unforgettable is now free for the rest of us, and it changes how you should build anything.

We spent the whole morning in the castle. Too much wine, not much accomplished. Then he takes the six of us to his favorite restaurant for lunch.

Everyone there knows him. They seat us at a table for twelve, and I don't think twice about it.

Before we order, he talks up all the food, and he's quietly listening. Anytime someone sounds even a little curious about a dish, he files it away. Then, while we're still talking, he says he's got it. He's handling the whole table.

And here's what that meant: one of every dish anyone liked, for every single person. I'm not exaggerating. Thirty-plus entrees. A wall of appetizers. More desserts than I could count. The food comes out and they have to drag over a second big table just to hold it all. The restaurant has obviously done this for him plenty of times.

His rule: you should get to try as much as you want. You should never feel like you HAVE to eat any of it. But whatever you love, you should have plenty of.

Afterward, Adam (who works with the wizard and lives in Austin) packs up every leftover for his friends and family. Nothing wasted. It was wild. Ever since, when my family goes out and can't decide, we just order one of everything. We call it "ordering Wizard Style."

Here's the part I keep thinking about.

The wizard could order one of everything because he had the means. For most of us, that's a once-in-a-while magic trick, not a way of life.

Building used to work the exact opposite way. You had to bet on ONE idea. Commit to it. Force yourself to eat the whole plate even when it wasn't quite right, because trying ten versions cost too much time and money to even consider. That's why so many people never start. They freeze trying to pick the one perfect idea before they've made anything at all.

AI flipped that completely.

Now trying one of everything is the CHEAP path. You can spin up five rough versions of a thing in an afternoon. The logo, the landing page, the kids' book, the little app, the email. Make five. Keep the one you love. Feel zero guilt about the other four.

So stop agonizing over the perfect single idea. You don't have to pick first anymore. Make several, keep what delights you, and let the rest go or pass it on, like Adam with the leftovers. Nothing wasted.

That's really the whole heart of this little community. Try things. Be generous with what you make. You don't have to be a coder. You just have to start.

If that sounds like your kind of table, come sit at ours.

Here's the one thing to steal this week: next time you're stuck choosing what to build or which approach to take, don't pick. Open up your AI, ask for a few rough versions, and keep the one you love. Let the rest go.

Order Wizard Style. The whole table is yours now.

Danny