There is a rule so simple that most builders trip over it on the way to something more sophisticated: go where the traffic already is.
If you want to sell coffee, you open the shop at the exit of the busiest train station, not in a forest. That sounds absurd stated plainly. Yet it is exactly what most people do when they launch a product.
Before anyone can decide whether they want what you are selling, they have to see it. That is the whole transaction, reduced to its first and most brutal step. Visibility precedes desire. Desire precedes money.
Most people fail before that step even begins. Not because the product is bad, but because no one was standing in front of it long enough to find out.
Think of a tourist night market in Osaka. The tempayaki stand that has been there for twenty-five years, two generations deep, selling something mediocre at best. It still makes money. Not because the food is good. Because the location is unkillable.
Meanwhile somewhere else, someone is cooking the best version of that same dish in the history of the dish, in an alley nobody walks down, and wondering why the money never comes.
Location is not aesthetic. It is arithmetic. Rent at the right corner is a tax you pay to borrow someone else's foot traffic. Rent in the wrong corner is a donation to your own obscurity.
So the question is not is my product good. The question is how many eyes pass it, unforced, per hour. Ask that first. Everything else is downstream.
Go stand on the street. One person at a time if that is what it takes. Make them see it before you ask them to want it.