The first six months of a small online shop — month by month
A composite portrait from the dozens of shops we've watched launch: the numbers, the panics, and the month something clicks.
4 min readA short note on the principles behind the builder: why it looks like tetris, why Logi is a television, and why we don't charge for the basics.
This is more of a note than a guide. But we get asked often enough that it's worth writing down.
People who want a website rarely fail technically. They fail from exhaustion.
Open a standard website tool and within ten minutes you must decide: one column or two, how many pixels of spacing, which typeface, which size, which shade of grey, where the button goes, how big it should be. Each decision is small. Together they're thirty decisions before you've written a single sentence about your business.
You know how it ends: a tab left open for three weeks and eventually closed.
The core decision in Brandolog is that you choose what, not how.
Every block — hero, products, reviews, form — arrives already styled and already fitting its neighbours. You can't place it crooked. You can't break the mobile version. You can't pick two incompatible things.
That sounds like a limitation, and it is exactly that. The limitation is the feature. The freedom to get it wrong in 40 places is why most websites stay unfinished.
Tetris is a good metaphor not because it's a game, but because the pieces always fit — all the skill is in the arrangement.
Our helper is an old CRT monitor with a face. There's a reason.
Help that talks like documentation repels precisely the people who need it most. Someone building their first website doesn't want to read "configure a DNS A record pointing at origin". They want someone to tell them which button to press.
Logi answers phonetic misspellings, understands "I can't see my site" and doesn't get offended by repeated questions. That's not decoration — it's part of the product.
The simplest reason: a website that never launches helps nobody. If payment stands before publishing, most people never reach their first order.
So the blocks, the editor, publishing and the cash-on-delivery shop are free. You pay when you actually need more — your own domain, more projects, specific plugins from the Bazar.
This isn't charity. We'd simply rather have a thousand working shops, some of which grow, than a hundred paid sites that were never launched.
One observation from talking to users: the technical part doesn't frighten people. The administrative part does.
Someone who makes candles isn't worried they won't understand the editor. They're worried they'll miss something with the tax office and pay a fine because nobody told them a certain file existed.
So we build those things too: NAPpy for the audit file, a shield against fake orders, a legal documents plugin. None of it is flashy. It just removes specific fears — and fears are what stop people.
The blog you're reading follows the same logic. The help center explains how to work with Brandolog. The blog explains how to work with a business — which is the harder half.
If you have a question that ought to be an article here, write to us. Half of what we publish comes from questions in the help center.
That's it. If that sounds reasonable — go build something. If it doesn't, tell us why. Both are useful.
Written by
The Brandolog team
We write down what we learned building Brandolog — and watching thousands of people ship their very first website.
A composite portrait from the dozens of shops we've watched launch: the numbers, the panics, and the month something clicks.
4 min readThe whole path from idea to a live site: domain, content, design and launch — in one afternoon, on a budget of roughly zero.
6 min readNo agencies, no 'link building packages', no magic. Twelve moves a small site can make on its own that still move rankings.
4 min readSnap a website together out of blocks in minutes — free, no code, no sign-up to begin with.