I'm Tim Naylor, and Some Guy & AI is me. I show people who can't write code how to build real things with AI — sites, bots, tools, whatever they want to make. I can't write code either, which is the whole point: everything on this site was built by describing it in plain English, and I publish exactly how each one got made, including the parts that broke, so you can go do the same.
For most of my life, "build a website" sounded like "build a car engine." Something other people did. People with a degree, or an agency, or at minimum a hoodie full of code.
What changed? The tools got good enough to argue with
Not "write me a poem" good. Build me a real, working thing good.
It started with a passion project. I care a lot about mental health, so I set out to build Korvani, a peer-support resource, entirely by describing what I wanted in plain English — the way I'd explain it to a friend. The AI did the hard part. My job turned out to be something else entirely: knowing what good looks like, pushing back when it wasn't, and saying "no, that's wrong, do it again" until it was right.
It came out real. Live, on its own domain, better than I had any business making. That's when it clicked — if I could build that, I could build the next one.
So what do you actually teach?
The move. Not a tool, not a shortcut list — the actual loop you repeat until a thing is real: describe what you want, look hard at what came back, say precisely what's wrong, go again. It's the same loop whether you're making a web page, a bot, or a tool that does one annoying job for you. Learn it once and the thing you build is up to you. The whole idea, start to finish, is in how to build things with AI without coding.
The part nobody else teaches is what it's like when it goes wrong — and it goes wrong constantly. AI hands you the generic version even when you asked for better. It will be confidently wrong and insist it's right. It'll quietly ignore the one instruction that mattered. Knowing that in advance, and knowing what to say back, is most of the skill.
In June I asked for Bandit, the beagle in my workshop, to walk around instead of standing in one spot. He glided across the floor like he was on ice, legs not even moving. That's written up here, ice and all — the prompt I typed, what came back, and where it broke. Not the clean version where it works first time. That version is a lie, and it's the reason people give up. Everything I've made is in a dated log.
No, I was not secretly technical the whole time
I'm not a developer. I'm not an agency. I'm not someone who quietly knew how to code and is now pretending the barrier was never there — the barrier was extremely real, and it moved.
I'm a few steps ahead of where you might be, and I write it down as I go. That's the entire offer.
Is this stuff actually free?
The writing is, all of it, permanently. Every build gets written down here with the real prompts and the real failures, and none of it is held back to make you pay for the rest. There are paid things, and they're plain about what they are: the kits, if you'd rather copy a build that already works than start from a blank screen, and the builds themselves, if you'd rather I just did it for you.