The landing page from eight months ago that's out of date. The blog with three posts, abandoned. The email list of forty dead addresses. The Mailchimp password you forgot. The Twitter account that goes quiet for weeks.
None of it blocks the product. All of it blocks growth. And every hour you'd spend on it is an hour off the thing you actually want to build. You know you're stuck. You just haven't found the version of help you can afford.
You describe your business once. After that, you're mostly saying yes or no. The AI drafts a homepage, a post, an email; you read it and accept, reject, or edit. Nothing ships without you — until you decide it can.
Type a paragraph into the chat and upload a few docs — a product spec, an old pitch deck, a page from your site. Point it at your existing site if you have one.
A draft homepage is waiting — better than what you had. Tweak the voice, approve it.
The AI proposes three blog posts. You accept one. It drafts it. You publish.
You've spent about ninety minutes on marketing all week. You built product the rest of the time. The backlog is shrinking without your labor.
Connect Claude, Cursor, or any MCP client and operate the whole platform by conversation — 146 tools across every app. No new dashboard to learn. And the receipt: this site's own blog posts were drafted through that MCP server.
It's early alpha, built by one person right now. Some edges are still sharp, and we'd rather say so than hide it. The core loop works, and early-access customers are using it on real sites.
Strategy and the final call stay yours — the AI drafts, you decide. And if you try it and it's not for you, you close the tab. You paid for what the AI did while you looked, and that bill is small.
You don't have to trust it up front. Connect it, ask for one post, and see what comes back. If the voice is close, you fine-tune it. If it's wrong, you reject it and say why.