I’ve spent more than a decade working as a land acquisition professional, buying and advising on vacant property across multiple states, and one thing I’ve learned early is that most people don’t wake up excited to sell land. They do it because circumstances force the issue—an inherited parcel they’ve never visited, a tax bill that keeps creeping up, or a piece of rural property that no longer fits their plans. When I first started, I underestimated how confusing and frustrating the process felt on the owner’s side. That changed after sitting at kitchen tables and listening to people explain why they just wanted a clean, honest way to sell land and move on.
Early in my career, I worked with a retired couple who had inherited several acres from a relative they barely knew. The land looked appealing on paper, but it was landlocked, heavily wooded, and two counties away from where they lived. They tried listing it with a local agent, only to discover months later that showings were rare and buyers kept backing out once access issues came up. By the time they called me, they weren’t chasing top dollar anymore—they wanted certainty. That experience taught me that price is often secondary to clarity and timing.
One of the most common misconceptions I still run into is the belief that selling land works like selling a house. It usually doesn’t. There’s no emotional pull of a kitchen remodel or curb appeal. Buyers focus on access, zoning, utilities, and whether the land can actually be used for something practical. I once evaluated a parcel last spring where the owner assumed it was buildable because nearby lots had homes. A quick conversation with the county revealed stricter setback rules that made construction unlikely. He’d been paying property taxes for years on land he couldn’t realistically develop, all because no one had walked him through the details.
From my side of the table, I’ve seen three mistakes repeat themselves over and over. First, owners overestimate demand. Vacant land can sit for a long time, especially if it’s rural or has limitations. Second, paperwork gets ignored. I’ve had deals stall because heirs never properly transferred title after a parent passed away. Third, people underestimate holding costs. Even inexpensive land racks up tax bills, association dues, or weed abatement notices. A few hundred dollars a year doesn’t sound like much until it’s been draining you for a decade.
That’s why I tend to be blunt when people ask my opinion. If you need maximum exposure and don’t mind waiting, a traditional listing might make sense. But if the land has quirks—or you simply don’t want to keep dealing with it—working with a cash buyer can be a practical option. I’ve personally purchased parcels that other buyers walked away from because they didn’t want to deal with surveys, back taxes, or unclear boundaries. In those cases, the value wasn’t just the check; it was closing the chapter.
I remember another situation involving a small out-of-state investor who owned several lots he’d bought years earlier with big plans. Life changed, and managing them from afar became a headache. Every year there was another notice in the mail: unpaid taxes here, a county letter there. We talked through his options, and he decided to sell two parcels and keep one he still believed in. He didn’t maximize profit on the ones he sold, but he eliminated ongoing stress and freed up cash for something more aligned with his current goals. That kind of tradeoff is rarely discussed, but it matters.
From experience, the smoothest transactions happen when expectations are realistic. Land value isn’t just about acreage—it’s about usability. Road access, flood zones, soil conditions, and local regulations all play a role. I’ve walked properties that looked beautiful but had seasonal water issues that scared off builders. I’ve also seen plain-looking lots sell quickly because they checked all the practical boxes.
If there’s one thing I advise against, it’s letting land linger out of indecision. I’ve talked to owners who kept property for sentimental reasons long after it stopped making sense financially. There’s nothing wrong with holding land if it serves a purpose. But if it’s just a line item you dread thinking about, selling can be less about money and more about relief.
After years in this business, I’ve come to respect how personal these decisions are. Selling land isn’t a theoretical exercise—it’s tied to family history, missed plans, and future priorities. My role has never been just to buy property, but to help owners understand what they actually have and choose a path that fits their situation. When that happens, even a simple transaction can feel like a weight lifted, and that’s something I’ve seen time and time again.