In the beginning, startups don't fail because they can't build. They fail because they build the wrong thing for too long.
An early startup is mostly a search problem. You're looking for a small patch of reality where users have a sharp need and you can deliver a sharp solution. The mistake is treating the search like a construction project.
The only reliable advantage in that phase is the speed at which you learn. Not how smart you are. Not how hard you work. Learning speed.
Learning has a simple unit: a loop. Build something small, put it in front of a real user, watch what happens, and change your plan. Repeat.
Long loops are seductive because they let you feel busy without being judged. You can spend weeks "preparing": architecture, tooling, process, hiring plans, PRDs. None of that tells you if you're right.
Users judge you immediately. That's why talking to them feels risky. But avoiding that risk doesn't remove it; it just postpones it until it's fatal.
You can tell the difference between a startup and a hobby by how often it touches the world. If you aren't showing something to someone this week, you're mostly guessing.
Short loops force an underrated virtue: simplicity. When you ship in small increments, you can't afford baroque systems. You write less code. You delete more. You end up with a product that's easier to operate and easier to explain, which usually means it's easier to buy.
This also explains why small teams are such an advantage early. Communication overhead grows faster than headcount. The first people you add should reduce loop time, not increase it.
When you hire too early, you often hire process. Process is a way to coordinate large groups. You don't have a large group. You have a question.
The goal isn't to be chaotic. The goal is to be fast at correcting course. A startup that can learn twice as fast will look like it has better ideas, better execution, and better timing, even when all it did was run more loops.