For weeks, "Build AI prototype" sat on my to-do list. Every single day, I'd find other, easier things to do – read the latest AI news, watch tutorials, finish online courses. Learning about AI felt productive. Actually making something? That felt weirdly hard, like a mental roadblock I couldn't get past.

It wasn't always this way. I used to tinker and build small projects regularly. But somewhere along the line, that creative spark fizzled. The momentum died. Now, the mere thought of starting something simple felt heavy, exhausting.

Then, my old college friend Ameya said he was visiting Pune. Maybe this was the kick I needed.

"Let's actually spend the day building something," I suggested, hoping to force my own hand.

"Seriously?" he replied. "I figured we'd mostly just chat."

"No talk, all action," I typed back, half trying to convince myself.

Of course, when we met, we spent hours just talking. By afternoon, I realized: we hadn't built a thing. The day was slipping away.

"Okay, let's actually do this," I said. "Let's go to Pagdandi café. Maybe a change of scene will help."

At the café, the scene felt familiar. Blank screen. Ordered coffee. Stared. That sinking feeling – 'Where do I even begin?' – washed over me again. Outside, rain streaked down the windows. Across the table, Ameya was already typing furiously, fingers flying across his keyboard, already lost in his own project.

"What are you working on?" Ameya asked, not looking up.

"Still deciding," I mumbled into my now-lukewarm coffee.

Then, two completely unrelated thoughts surfaced from the mental clutter: a workshop on 'crucial conversations' I'd attended years ago, and Playlab, a simple AI chatbot builder I'd stumbled upon just last week. Totally unrelated. What if...?

Just to do something, I opened Playlab. No grand plan, just flicker of an idea. Could I make a quick chatbot where kids practice roleplaying difficult conversations with parents or teachers?

For the next hour or two, the café's buzz faded. I just tinkered, focused on making this one little chatbot work.

It wasn't fancy. It wasn't revolutionary. But it was done.

"Try this," I said, sliding my laptop towards Ameya as evening settled in.

He played with it for a few minutes. "Cool. Not bad for an afternoon's work."

Later that night, the internal debate started. I drafted a quick LinkedIn message to Protima, the workshop facilitator, sharing the link. My finger hovered over 'Send'. This is silly. It's so basic. Why bother her? The urge to delete was strong.

But then I figured, what the heck. I actually built something today. I pushed past the inertia, even if just for a bit.

So I hit send.

"Built something today that reminded me of your roleplay exercises.” I wrote. “Nothing fancy, but thought you might find it interesting." I closed my laptop, expecting nothing.

Three days later, I was on a video call with Protima.

"Hi Aditya," she said. "Interesting tool. The kids' version isn't what we need... but could you make something similar for corporate assessments, based on a case study? We're pitching a client, evaluating competency skills. An AI tool could give us an edge."

I was surprised. This little thing I'd built, just to get myself unstuck, had sparked a real business need?

"Uh, yeah… I think I could do that," I replied.

Two months later, Protima messaged: "Good news! We landed the client. They mentioned the AI tool was the deciding factor."

My small afternoon project, the one I almost didn't share, became my first paid AI work.

That cafe afternoon drove home a lesson: the real challenge often isn’t the technology, it’s overcoming the inertia to start.

Momentum doesn’t arrive, it’s built, often through projects that feel small or simple or unimportant at the time. You don’t always need a master plan.