A year ago we incorporated a software studio in Silang, Cavite. Twelve months in, the studio is still standing, our clients have not run away, and we have made every cliched first-year mistake the internet warned us about. Here is what we actually learned, in the order we learned it.
Scoping is the entire job
We spent the first quarter quoting projects in person, on intuition, in afternoons we billed as "discovery." Half the time our estimates were too low, the other half they were too high, and every time we kicked off the build there was a moment of "wait, that was not in scope" within the first sprint. That month of pain pushed us toward writing things down. By month four, every engagement started with a written scoping document the client signed before we wrote a line of code. The studio stopped losing money on scope creep almost overnight.
Lesson: ambiguous scoping is not a client problem. It is a studio problem. If you cannot describe what you are building in two pages, you should not have agreed to build it.
Saying no is a feature
We took on three projects in year one that we should have declined. One was a sweepstakes mobile app for a company we suspected would not pay on time. They did not. Another was a custom CRM for a founder who described the requirements differently every meeting. We rebuilt it twice. The third was a glossy marketing site for a friend's friend, priced as a favor, that took as long as a paying project and produced no portfolio value.
After those three, we got better at the scoping call. The question shifted from "can we build this?" to "should we?" The studio stopped collecting projects and started selecting them. Revenue actually went up.
Cavite-based does not mean Cavite-only
When we registered in Silang we assumed the local market would carry the studio. It did not, not in year one. Half of our first-year revenue came from clients in Metro Manila and abroad: a startup in Singapore, a non-profit in Hong Kong, a small SaaS company in Australia that hired us through a referral. The Cavite businesses we wanted to serve took longer to ramp because most of them were still figuring out whether they needed software at all.
Lesson: do not assume the geography defines the client base. Pick the work that fits the studio, wherever it comes from. Be findable to people who do not yet know you exist.
Fixed quotes are uncomfortable, then liberating
We held the line on fixed-quote engagements in year one. It was uncomfortable. Three projects ran over our scoped hours and the studio absorbed the loss. Each time, the loss forced a process improvement: better scoping, tighter sprint planning, earlier risk flagging. By month nine, our hit rate on fixed quotes was high enough that the model was clearly working.
The alternative would have been time and materials billing, which we considered briefly. We rejected it because hourly billing rewards slow developers and punishes clients with no upper bound on the invoice. Fixed quotes force alignment. We will keep them.
Most clients do not need new software
A surprising portion of year-one conversations ended with us telling the client they did not need to build anything. They needed a Google Sheet, a Calendly link, a properly configured Zoho instance, or a better operations playbook. We did not bill for those conversations. We did get hired by half of those same clients twelve to eighteen months later when their actual software need emerged.
Lesson: the honest answer is good marketing. Telling someone they do not need your service builds the kind of trust that brings them back when they do.
We learned to charge for thinking
In the first six months we treated strategy work as a free preamble to the build. The client paid for code; the thinking that produced the code was a gift. By month eight we had reframed it. Strategy became its own engagement, with a written deliverable, a fixed quote, and an exit point where the client could walk away with the thesis even if they did not commission us for the build.
This single change improved everything. Clients took the strategy work seriously because they were paying for it. We took it seriously because we were being paid. The build engagements that followed were measurably better-scoped because the thinking had been done in advance.
The work is the marketing
We had no marketing budget. No paid ads, no LinkedIn ghost-writer, no founder personal-branding push. The studio grew on referrals. Every project we shipped on time and well became a piece of marketing for the next project. Every client we treated honestly told two other people. By month twelve the inbound was steady enough that we did not have to chase.
This will probably stop working as the studio gets bigger. We have not seen the limit yet.
What year two will be about
Three priorities are locked. Hire one senior engineer, deliberately. Build out a documented design system so handoffs stop costing us hours. Find one truly hard technical problem to solve in public, so the studio's positioning is grounded in actual work, not in clever copy.
If we do those three things well, year two ends with the studio more confident, the team larger, and a portfolio strong enough that the next twelve months of scoping calls start from a better starting point. That is the plan, anyway. Year one taught us how much of the plan tends to survive contact with reality.