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Three Lessons For Creating Unforgettable Experiences

games, playing, child

As those close to me know, over the past few weeks, I’ve been knee-deep in some new projects. Projects I haven’t been this excited to produce in a long while. One of which is around experiences.

At the same time, as friends and long-time readers of this humble blog know, I am no stranger to the world of social experiments and experiences. I still don’t have a great catch-all term for it. They’re not just another set of “events.” Events just remind me of the same conference, fireside chat, or happy hour playbook. But I try to take my events a step further. So, naturally, given my fascination around building experiences, I walk hand-in-hand with both psychological research and game design. The former of which I share a bit more in previous blogposts than the latter.

So, I’m going to dedicate this essay to three of the lessons I picked up in the latter.

  1. Create experiences that optimize for people who know no one else there.
  2. Don’t confuse complexity with depth.
  3. A great event is great not due to the event itself, but because of the story one gets to tell again and again.

1. Create experiences that optimize for people who know no one else there.

I had always had this somewhere in the back of my head. To design experiences where no one was ever left out. But when I caught up with a friend recently in New York, he codified it into what it is today. As someone who runs a design studio that builds immersive experiences in New York, he spends most of his time building experiences for strangers. And while friends may visit his exhibits together, the vast majority of his attendees do not know anyone else.

Take, for example, happy hours. Most happy hours aren’t designed for the person who knows no one. Usually the event itself is fairly laissez-faire. Most of which, the hosts don’t actively try to connect attendees. And so if you show up at a happy hour and the host is too busy to intro you to anyone, unless you’re an outgoing person, you’re likely standing near the edges, hoping to jump into a conversation if any group will let you. This often leads to events where people leave early and form cliques. It also optimizes for early birds, rather than the fashionably late.

Tactically, it’s creating excuses for people to jump in conversation. While not a problem for outgoing individuals, I need to empower everyone, including shy introverts, with tools to start conversations, where I and/or the experience shoulder the initial responsibility and blame to start conversations. That could be with customized fortune cookies where one is supposed to read their fortune to someone else. Or empowering people with a mission or an ask greater than themselves. For instance, to over-simplify it a bit, “I’m trying to put together a small group of everyone who’s wearing glasses tonight. Do you mind helping me find out all the names of the guests who are wearing glasses?” Or “I’m trying to resolve a debate with my co-host. Pineapples or no pineapples on pizza. I’m all for pineapples, but she isn’t. Can you help me find more allies?”

2. Don’t confuse complexity with depth.

This is unfortunately a fallacy I often find myself spiraling down the longer I’m given to ponder. And I lose myself in intellectual complexity.

Many years ago when a couple friend and I first decided to host an escape room in a mansion over three days and two nights, the greatest question we had was: How do we create an immersive experience over multiple days? And retain that level of immersion throughout? I thought, hell, what if we created a brand new language for the event. One that all guests would have to learn and practice throughout the event. We’d ease them in slowly, but the biggest puzzle could only be solved through adequate mastery in this new language. This easily gave me the greatest injection of dopamine when planning for the event. And I went deep, talking with linguistic professors, studying how Tolkien created Quenya, and how Cameron and Paul Frommer created the Na’vi language.

It was truly interesting to me and to many of my friends. But unfortunately, through user testing, to most others, while interesting to hear its backstory, was not fun to practice. I had ended up developing it to a level to where it departed from its English roots to resembling language of Scandinavian origin. Because of its complexity and how there were more guests who were English speakers than speakers of this new language, immersion broke almost instantaneously.

The great Mark Rosewater once defined interesting as intellectual stimulation and fun as emotional stimulation. While they’re not mutually exclusive, it’s important to not confuse the two.

There’s a great Maya Angelou line that I, like many others, like to reference. “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” And it is no less true for gamified designs. Emotional satisfaction often runs deeper and longer than intellectual satisfaction. The former has a greater chance of becoming a “core memory,” to borrow from the brilliant minds behind Pixar’s Inside Out, than the latter.

I was lucky to learn this lesson from one of the greatest designers of card games alive today. It was on a call earlier this year, where I was telling him about all the awesome bells and whistles I was planning on implementing for an upcoming experience. And I asked what he thought. To which, he responded: “Kill all complexity. Complexity is not a substitute for depth. Rely on your audience for depth. The more borders, the harder it is enjoy. Too few, it’s chaotic. Find the absolute minimum number of borders.”

The goal of creating systems is to create opportunities for serendipity. To create opportunities where people can dive deep. Not to force people to take the plunge when they may not be ready.

His advice just happens to rhyme with a quote I’ve always kept somewhere in the back of my mind, but now sits on the wall above my PC.

“Your ability to solve problems with magic in a satisfying way is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” — Sanderson’s First Law of Magic

3. A great event is great not due to the event itself, but because of the story one gets to tell again and again.

Under the ambiance of MarieBelle, which I still so fondly remember the moment my friend told me this, she said, “A great event is great not due to the event itself, but because of the story one gets to tell again and again.” It’s the truest definition of surprising and delighting. She was someone who used to work on the Dreamweavers team at Eleven Madison Park when Will Guidara was still there. As such the above lesson was a page out of Will Guidara‘s book Unreasonable Hospitality, whose best known for how intentionally he took front of the house hospitality at 11 Madison Park, one of the greatest restaurants in the world. 4 stars on New York Times, and 3 Michelin stars. He also happened to be the person who conceived the Dreamweavers team there. Just to give you an idea of how seriously they take their roles…

First off, the core of the event itself — the meat, the protein — has to be great. If it’s a tofu burger, it better be a damn well-marinated fat slice of egg tofu, double-fried to perfection. To Malcolm Gladwell, that’s the meal.

And only once you have it all, what’s the cherry on top? What’s the candy? Why would people want to talk about it? For events, that’s:

  • Delivering surprises — gifts and/or experiences they do not expect
  • Transferrable pieces of knowledge — insights, frameworks, or trivia knowledge that are useful even after the event
  • Meeting great people WITH great stories — “Did you know that [so-and-so] did X?” And for this to happen not just opportunistically but at scale, finding ways to help people share stories of vulnerability or of adventures that have yet to grace any public media is key. The easiest way is through questions. The slightly harder way is through a set of triggers where it makes sharing such a story natural.

In closing

I am, as always, a work-in-progress. And with the events I’ll continue to host this year, I’m going to learn more. And in time, be able to share more of my lessons, trials, and tribulations in this journey. In hopes, this will aid or inspire you on your path.

Photo by Holly Landkammer on Unsplash

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

The views expressed on this blogpost are for informational purposes only. None of the views expressed herein constitute legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Any allusions or references to funds or companies are for illustrative purposes only, and should not be relied upon as investment recommendations. Consult a professional investment advisor prior to making any investment decisions.

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DGQ 16: What is a story that you’ve told or have yet to tell where you either fight to hold back tears or fight to hold back giggles?

tears

Whenever I host fireside chats, I always ask three questions before the talk begins, usually a week in advance.

  1. What would make this interview the most memorable one you’ve been a guest for even two years from now?
  2. Are there any topics you don’t want to talk about? Or are sick of talking about?
  3. Are there any questions you have yet to be asked, but wish someone were to ask you?

On top of the above three questions , occasionally, I ask a fourth. Do you have a home run story that has gotten you a standing ovation in the past — privately or publicly?

The goal is simple. Despite hours of research and asking mutuals, sometimes I still can’t find anything that’s humanizing about my guest. And I know for a fact that all humans are imperfect. And that imperfection makes each person relatable. Just like when Neil Gaiman met Neil Armstrong. But recently, I’ve fallen in love with a new way to phrase the fourth question.

What is a story that you’ve told or have yet to tell where you either fight to hold back tears or fight to hold back giggles?

On my flight to New York recently, I watched a movie starring one of my favorite actors in the world, Tom Hanks, which inspired this question. And, subsequently this blogpost. A Man Called Otto. Inspired by Fredrick Backman’s A Man Called Ove. And I’m not ashamed to say, I cried during that movie. While Rotten Tomatoes may not give it the score I think it deserves, it was well-written and well-produced. Through it, I realized that powerful stories are powerful not because of how awesome the protagonist is. But by how relatable their weaknesses are. Their limitations. I’ll give an example… to avoid spoiling the afore-mentioned movie.

Spiderman isn’t awesome because he has mutant powers. He’s awesome because he’s prone to all the emotions and struggles, be it love, bullies at school, a horrible boss, and how he acts out against all of that. Spiderman’s much more relatable than a super billionaire who owns all the gadgets in the world or an alien from another planet. He’s just a kid from Brooklyn. Or Queens, depending on which Spiderman suits your fancy. And as Brandon Sanderson once said, limitations are more interesting than powers. Limitations make us human. And characters who exhibit humanness and still somehow overcome impossible odds are stories that are passed from generation to generation.

That said, storytelling, outside the realm of superpowers, is equally as true. In a world where appearance and social capital goes a long way, trying to be perfect, to look perfect, and to act perfect is a fallacy in the modern era. While we know we’re not perfect, as a society, we continue to strive for perfection.

After watching a lot of movies, and in my free time, watching acting lessons (FYI, would fail as an actor, but still find the craft fascinating.), I’ve learned we don’t cry when watching movies because the characters cry easily. We cry because the character is trying to hold back their tears. And we don’t laugh during a show or a movie because the comedian laughs easily. We laugh even more because they’re trying to hold back their own laughter. The narrators and characters we see are a reflection of who we truly are.

In many ways, if someone cries easily, it relieves the audience of the ability, some artists may call it responsibility, to cry. Someone, the actor or actress or character has diffused the tension already. But if they fight to hold back their tears, holding back the floodgates, we as the audience are more likely to cry in their stead.

Now I say all of this because I find most fireside chats and interviews unrelatable. Now it’s a product of many things. And I genuinely believe a plethora of individuals do have something powerful and insightful to share, but the stage needs to be ready for them. It’s rare for guests to drop some head-turning advice in the first 10 minutes. Which means… it’s up to both the host and the guest to hold the audience’s attention long enough, as well as create enough opportunities for the guest to shine. The above question, in my opinion, does both.

So all in all, going forward, rather than asking for a home run story, I will ask for stories where people are just people. And for stories that mean a tremendous amount to the people telling them. That they have no choice but to let even a little bit of themselves out emotionally.

Photo by shahin khalaji on Unsplash

The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.

Subscribe to more of my shenaniganery. Warning: Not all of it will be worth the subscription. But hey, it’s free. But even if you don’t, you can always come back at your own pace.

The views expressed on this blogpost are for informational purposes only. None of the views expressed herein constitute legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Any allusions or references to funds or companies are for illustrative purposes only, and should not be relied upon as investment recommendations. Consult a professional investment advisor prior to making any investment decisions.

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7 Lessons from My Time at On Deck

Last Friday was my last day with a team and a company I called home for the past 18 months. My brain’s been conditioned to expect a team sync every Monday and that every Wednesday is deep work Wednesday, but also a good time to catch up with my teammates. I’m going to miss these moments and more as I embark on a new chapter. To say the last 18 months were a rollercoaster would be an understatement, but I wouldn’t have traded a second for anything else. To see our community of the world’s most helpful investors grow from angels to syndicate leads to fund managers and LPs has been my absolute honor and pleasure. Today and every day forward, I’m thrilled to see where On Deck goes next as it continues to be the pillar behind talented and ambitious founders from the day they decide they want to change the world.

Needless to say, I’ve taken away many lessons over the past year and change. Among many investing lessons, a lucky seven of which have greatly changed the way I work. Changing up the pace here, this is also going to be my first blogpost where there is more audio than there is text.

1. Loom is my best friend

Shoutout to Andrew Rea for building a new habit in my life.

2. Don’t over-engineer

Hats off to Julian Weisser for reminding me to keep it scrappy.

3. Take breaks

A big thank you to Sam Huleatt, Vivian Meng and Soumya Tejam for reminders that we need to take one step back to take two leaps forward.

4. Check in on your team’s psyche weekly.

Another piece of Andrew Rea wisdom.

5. Don’t hold back your punches.

Cheers to Ari Gootnick for the joys of not holding back.

6. A strike is better than a spare.

Appreciate Sam Huleatt for showing me that quality matters more than quantity at times.

7. Question everything

Cheers to Shiva Singh Sangwan for relentlessly challenging the norms.

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.

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#unfiltered #76 The Forcing Functions of Change

autumn, leaves changing, fall

One of my favorite frameworks of thinking about building and breaking habits comes in the words of Elliot Berkman, whom I’ve cited before. He notes that there are three factors to breaking a habit.

  1. The availability of an alternative habit
  2. Strength of motivation to change
  3. Mental and physical ability to break the habit

Of particular note is the second one. The strength of motivation to change. Change is inevitable. But real change is always compelling. There must be a strong enough desire to relieve yourself of the status quo. John C. Maxwell once said, “People change in four different seasons… People change when they hurt enough they have to, when they see enough they’re inspired to, when they learn enough that they want to, and when they receive enough that they’re able to.”

In each of those seasons, the person is compelled to do something outside of their ordinary flow of time. But there’s another interesting way to think about change. One where you have no choice but to.

CIA veteran Richards Heuer once wrote, “When faced with a major paradigm shift, analysts who know the most about a subject have the most to unlearn.” If there’s anything we can gather from historical records, major paradigm shifts are happening every decade (and less) whether we want to or not. On a macro scale, new technologies, like generative AI, the smartphone, and the internet, as well as political and financial eras, like the GFC, the dot com burst, and wars that affect the increasingly interconnected world. On a micro scale, when we go to college, get our first job, start our first company, raise a family, or buy your first house.

At each stage, the more entrenched you are in the behavioral patterns of the status quo, the harder it is to adjust with the next shift. For instance, as a founder, anchoring yourself on 2020-2021 multiples and valuations won’t help you in the world forward. As an investor, anchoring on the past 3-4 years of markups without fully accounting for the current climate won’t help you with your next raise. Anecdotally, I’ve heard great multi-fund managers mark their portfolio down by 25% already before the market verdict comes in. Moreover, jobs are going to look very different in an age of AGI (artificial general intelligence). Just like with the industrial revolution, new jobs will be created. And I can go on on and on. But I digress.

There’s a hero’s arc in each inflection point. Every time the second derivative goes from negative to positive. The way Viola Davis puts it that that at the end of every hero’s journey, you come face-to-face with not a god, but yourself. And that is when the magic happens.

“Somewhere along the line is a voice deep within you that tells you exactly who you are; you just have to have the courage to do that. That’s what the journey of the hero is all about. You’re born into a world where you don’t fit in. You answer the call to adventure. And you deny the call. Then at some point you then set out on your path. You slay dragons, and you do all of that. At some point, you come face-to-face with not a god, but yourself. Somewhere along the line, you get it — your A-ha moment. Your elixir. And you go back to your ordinary world and share it with others. I think that’s the journey. I think that’s the privilege of being absolutely who you are — belonging to yourself and being brave.”

— Viola Davis

Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash

#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

The views expressed on this blogpost are for informational purposes only. None of the views expressed herein constitute legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Any allusions or references to funds or companies are for illustrative purposes only, and should not be relied upon as investment recommendations. Consult a professional investment advisor prior to making any investment decisions.

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#unfiltered #75 Why I Write Long Form Blogposts

typewriter, blog, write

This past Wednesday, I was having lunch with an artist-turned-VC. And as you might imagine, we had to cover every topic at the intersection of art and startup investing. But of all the ground we covered, one stood out — content creation.

She’s on the Gram, LinkedIn, and everything in between. (Although surprisingly not on Twitter.) But to help her focus, she uninstalls those apps on her phone. Otherwise, she says she’ll end up “doomscrolling.” I get it. In fact, many of my friends and colleagues have shared similar things as well. But…

I’m weird. At least among my friend group, I’m really weird. I’m terrible at social media. I’m an 80-year old stuck in a 27-year old body. At least on the social media front. I find it so hard to keep my attention on social. In fact, I schedule ten minutes three times a week to hold myself accountable to be on LinkedIn and Twitter.

So, when it came to sharing my thoughts and learnings publicly, it was a pretty easy decision. Of course, I eventually came to self-rationalize it as the ability to own my own piece of virtual real estate, but there are three more reasons I chose blogging rather than tweeting or social posting.

1. I write to think

I’ve written about this before so I won’t elaborate in length on my own rationale here, but share a few examples of others also holding it in high regard.

There’s only so much you can flush out in just 280 characters, or over any short post. And while some of my thoughts fully flushed out may only be that long or less, not having that restriction gives me peace of mind to not hold back.

One of my favorite George Orwell lines happens to be: “If people cannot write well, they cannot think well. And if they cannot think well, others will do their thinking for them.”

On that same wavelength on writing, Jeff Bezos makes Amazon execs write six-page memos. In most companies, team members often resort to PowerPoint presentations. Take anywhere between five and ten slides. Maybe less, maybe more. It’s much less thought out than a six-page dissertation. As Bezos says, “The reason writing a ‘good’ four page memo is harder than ‘writing’ a 20-page PowerPoint is because the narrative structure of a good memo forces better thought and better understanding of what’s more important than what.”

Equally so, it’s the same reason the best investors write memos for their investment decisions. My favorite public ones are Bessemer’s, which encapsulates much of their thinking at the time in amber. Turner Novak also turned his ability to write great memos to eventually raising his fund, Banana Capital. And the great Brian Rumao writes memos not just pre-investment, but also in his post-mortems where he gathers his learnings.

While I won’t go as far as to comparing myself to the afore-mentioned, I do find great pleasure and great learning from putting words on paper.

2. Longer feedback loop

My writing is more often a form of self-expression, self-curiosity, and self-discovery. So, unlike a product manager or founder who’s relentlessly testing and iterating on feedback, I enjoy longer feedback loops. I may start another content engine at some point that is for a particular audience, focused on feedback and iteration. But this humble piece of virtual estate will stay me. With no algorithm conditioning my attention span and yearn for external validation. That’s not to say I won’t ever (or have not ever) written things that you my awesome readers want, but it is only at the intersection of what you want and the what I enjoy writing about and asking others about that mint content here.

I also spend a lot of time thinking about audience capture, a term Gurwinder brought to my attention in an essay he wrote about Nikocado Avocado, which I also touched on in an essay I wrote near the end of last year.

I’m reminded by something Gurwinder wrote a few months ago about the perils of audience capture. In it, he shares the story of Nikocado Avocado, who lost himself to his audience, in a section of that essay he calls: The Man Who Ate Himself. He also shares one line that I find quite profound:

“We often talk of ‘captive audiences,’ regarding the performer as hypnotizing their viewers. But just as often, it’s the viewers hypnotizing the performer. This disease, of which Perry is but one victim of many, is known as audience capture, and it’s essential to understanding influencers in particular and the online ecosystem in general.”

3. The impermanence of social media

Most things on social media are ephemeral in nature. It’s designed to capture the moment, but not chronicle the moments. On Twitter, you can only pin one tweet. On Instagram, you can pin three. And on LinkedIn, only three are visible on the featured carousel, and include, five max before it takes you down another layer of friction to discover more.

There’s a level of impermanence which makes thoughts feel whimsical rather than evergreen. To use a phrase I recently heard Tim Ferriss use, the “durability of the signal seems to wane so quickly.” And that made my thoughts feel cheap.

That’s not to say every post I write has their weight in gold, but the searchability and the evergreen nature of my favorite blogposts (saved in my “About” tab) are the reasons I keep most of my thoughts here.

Photo by Fiona Murray on Unsplash

#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

The views expressed on this blogpost are for informational purposes only. None of the views expressed herein constitute legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Any allusions or references to funds or companies are for illustrative purposes only, and should not be relied upon as investment recommendations. Consult a professional investment advisor prior to making any investment decisions.

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#unfiltered #74 What If Events Were Story Arcs?

castle, story, boat

“Somewhere along the line is a voice deep within you that tells you exactly who you are; you just have to have the courage to do that. That’s what the journey of the hero is all about. You’re born into a world where you don’t fit in. You answer the call to adventure. And you deny the call. Then at some point you then set out on your path. You slay dragons, and you do all of that. At some point, you come face-to-face with not a god, but yourself. Somewhere along the line, you get it — your A-ha moment. Your elixir. And you go back to your ordinary world and share it with others. I think that’s the journey. I think that’s the privilege of being absolutely who you are — belonging to yourself and being brave.”

That’s the arc of every great story in the words of Viola Davis on one of my new favorite interviews with Sean Evans, where she shares the secret to the hero’s journey.

In the world post-pandemic, people crave connection. A desire to go from URL to IRL. Everyone lost those years. Something everyone from a first grader to a college student to a young professional entering the workforce to a retiree could relate to. And in 2021, there was a re-emergence of events. Well-intentioned and well-founded. We had conferences, coffee chats, happy hours, fireside chats, oh, so many happy hours, panels, tech weeks, and… did I mention happy hours?

Most events out there are a time and a place for a collection of people. They’re static points in time. Not even counting the full spectrum of event planners, many of the best event planners spend tons of times on what makes events special, but change more about the small bells and whistles of an event than the overall flow. There are very few who take leaps of faith. Even less true for the vast majority of events, where events feel more of an afterthought than something that is designed to start or end a chapter in your life.

As such, everyone found themselves left with a goodie bag including a surplus of events, a lack of focus and attention, and a lollipop of exhaustion.

So, I had a thought last year, greatly inspired by my team at On Deck Angels. Instead of trying to host an event a month, what would need to change if we could only do one event a year? What would we have to do? Hell, extrapolating further, what if we only did one event every two years? Three years? Every Olympic arc? Which led to the thinking around, what do we need to do to make this the most memorable event that anyone has ever been to.

You see, I’ve hosted and co-hosted small and large-scale social experiments, but it was always for an audience who proactively and voluntarily signed up for. They were willing to do things outside the ordinary. But could I apply the same learnings to events for really, busy people who crave intellectual challenges, and who have been to so many events, they might be jaded?

So, below was and continues to be my collection of governing thoughts around answering that question, which will only grow and refine this year. In the theme of my blogpost last week, the below may be messy. Disorganized. Chaotic, even. Hope not, but possible. You’ve been warned. But I do hope that you might find at least one of the below frameworks useful.

Metrics for success

Every event needs a North Star. When planning the Angel Forum, as well as future events, below are mine.

  1. Attendees go on a hero’s journey, revisiting Viola Davis’ words above. In other words, character development. The event should create opportunities for growth within the event itself.
  2. Every attendee continues to and is motivated to build friendships (as opposed to networking and purely transactional connection) after the event. If the event itself is the only reason for people to connect, but it does not give people incentive to after, it’s a failure (in my books).

For now, that means, not only the speakers and the presenters need to be curated, but also each and every person on the guest list. I have yet to figure out how to customize such experiences at scale, where each person has wildly different goals.

Narrative frameworks I use for events

To dig a level deeper, here are my frameworks for execution:

  1. Surprise and suspense — Surprise is when you relay information that the audience does not expect. Suspense is when you relay information that the audience is expecting, but does not know when it’ll drop. Suspense is how you keep attention. It raises expectation, but knowing when to deliver the news helps with creating a reality that meets or beats expectation. Surprise is, on the other hand, purely for creating alphas in this expectation-versus-reality model. It’s the main driver for overdelivering on a seemingly smaller, but still powerful promise. To do so, I find George Loewenstein’s 1994 paper on the psychology of curiosity super helpful. More on how the five triggers to curiosity influenced my thinking here.
  2. Candy versus the meal — A Malcolm Gladwell framework. Effectively, how people think and what people actually talk about are quite different. Candy is what people talk about. For example, if I were to talk about the recent Avatar movie, I’d talk about how amazing the motion capture and the CGI was. And in doing so, I’ve spoiled nothing. It tells you nothing about the plot, but it’s exciting to talk about. On the other hand, the meal is how people think. It’s the whole package, the whole story. The meal has to be well-worth the visit, but the candy is what gets people excited. More on that in a previous essay I wrote here.
  3. The audience must understand the rules of magic — This is a combination of the thoughts of Malcolm Gladwell‘s framework around tools and Brandon Sanderson’s three laws of magical systems. Give the audience tools to use at the very beginning of the event. It could be a framework for how to think about the event and every activity in between. It could be physical tools that they will employ throughout the event. And once you do, make sure your audience knows how to use those tools. Test them. Give them small, but easy case studies and questions. Make it easy. Don’t put them on the spot. And by completing that test, that satisfaction and joy will help motivate them to use it more later. As Sanderson’s first law of magic goes, “your ability to solve problems with magic in a satisfying way is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” More on my thoughts on Sanderson’s laws here.
  4. Plots — Like any good story, the narrative is governed by plots. The plot must thicken and build towards a climax. And it must be resolved by the end of the event. Leave little in the main plot to chance, but leave room for each guest to discover something extraordinary. Maintaining a minor amount of stress and uncertainty, while sharing examples and reminders of being open-minded to new experiences, goes a long way. Only after stepping outside one’s comfort zone can one grow.
  5. Always use the audience’s time in a way that does not feel wasted — Inspired by one of the greatest writers of all time, Kurt Vonnegut. I forget which lecture he did that I learned this from. But it’s always been a governing theme for what I do.
  6. End on an ending where the reader can imagine no other — No loose ends. Everything that is teased (whether the audience realizes it or not) needs to be resolved by the end. This might be a semi-controversial opinion among storytellers and creative professionals. But I’m biased. I like my stories to end with a bowtie.

In closing

As you might imagine, much of this is still incomplete. And I hope to share more as I continue down this path of exploration and discovery.

Photo by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash

#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.

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v27.0

The Earth has once again gone through another orbit around the only star within four light years from us.

In the past version of David, I’ve published many blogposts. Yet one of the most continual topics that owns real estate in my mind is the idea of the 99 unsolicited, but more importantly, non-googleable (figuratively speaking) pieces of advice. I’ve already published two blogposts on the respective topics of entrepreneurship and VC. And am now compiling more and an additional set of life hacks. I imagine, at some point, I will for other areas of my life I want to spend mind space on. Asking questions. Hosting interviews. Events. LP stuff. Just to name a few.

In other words, I am on a constant search for tactical pieces of insight in the corners of both the internet and safely kept (often unwittingly) in the grey matter in 7.8 billion locations. Or simpler, I want to know what others know.

I was listening to a podcast featuring James Clear earlier this year. And in it, he said something I completely agree with. “Almost every idea you have is downstream from what you consume. When you choose who you follow on Twitter, you’re choosing your future thoughts.”

In an age that offers us a wealth of information and a million topics, posts, comments, videos, and algorithms that will distract us, it becomes ever more prescient to be a great curator. It doesn’t even have to be for others. At the very minimum, for yourself.

The amount of time I’ve scrolled through metaphoric cat videos on YouTube is appalling. And I realize that whenever I do, I face a dry spell of ideas. Luckily only briefly.

As of now, the world’s top social media platforms’ algorithms work against us. It surfaces us content we are likely to enjoy. Content that is high likely to reinforce our confirmation bias, as well as availability bias of the world. And the biggest problem with that is we are fed cousins of the same information rather than new, and possibly dissenting information that would challenge our beliefs. After all, these apps’ goal is to keep us on the platform. Not to close the app and do something meaningful with our lives. I’m excited for the day we get to build our own algorithms for consumption. But for now, it has to be more manual.

James Clear also goes on to say in the same interview when Tim Ferriss asked how he chooses which books to read. “First thing is you got to be willing to quit books fast. If you have baggage around finishing books, then you’re just going to be stuck and you won’t move on quickly enough.”

I’m guilty of the counterfactual. I’ve long prided myself on seeing things through. In fact, I still do. But at least on the consumption part, I’m slowing down my rate of learning. This year, I’m going to start measuring the number of books, articles, and podcasts I fail to complete, as well as the number of long form content media (i.e. books, movies, articles, podcasts, etc.) that have inspired an idea or an output. The goal is to optimize for learning and insight rather than completion.

Since this is the first year I’m measuring it, I won’t be able to measure the delta. But I’ll leave this encased in amber for David v29.0 and future iterations.

Doing things that are unteachable

My sixth grade teacher once told me, “David, you should be proud [she] copied you. That means you have something worth copying.”

I, like many others, spent the first 22 years of my life copying and learning from someone else’s or multiple people’s playbook. And often still do. The four years after I worked on being different. From the words of someone I look up to, “Be interesting and interested.” Where I put more effort into being interesting — doing interesting things, having interesting perspectives, asking interesting questions. I worked to create things worth copying. And when I started this blog, I followed that same ethos. I did and will continue to do my best to share my findings and takeaways. So that others won’t have to fall through the same potholes as I did.

At least, that was my belief until December 8th last year.

I hosted an event. An event I’ve never been more excited to host. An event where I was intentional about as many details as I could. And a byproduct of being in the flow state at least twice a week. While I’ll likely spend another blogpost taking a deeper dive on this topic, it occurred to me that events, just like any other medium of consumption — movies, books, podcasts, shows, and so on — should be stories. And every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. But more importantly, every great story has:

  • An inciting incident — something that compels the protagonist to leave their current timeline to embark on something spectacular
  • A main plot (with sometimes multiple side plots)
  • Character development — the protagonist, as well as other characters, grow over the arc of the story
  • An ending where the reader (viewer or listener) can imagine no other (tipping my hat to Robert McKee)
  • And to use the reader (et al’s) time in a way that is not wasted (tipping my hat to Kurt Vonnegut)

To my joy, it was as great if not greater than expected. The feedback was phenomenal. In my excitement and post-event high, I shared with many friends, colleagues, and family about how I thought about the event.

And to my dismay, while most were happy for me, a friend told me:

“You’re built different. I could never do what you do.”

In subsequent days, two other friends told me the same.

And it reminded me of something John Fiorentino once said. “The things that are going to be valuable are the things you can’t teach or copy.” While I was initially dismissive of this corollary, I now realize there might be some truth to it.

So, how does that change the stories I’ll share here or anywhere? In the past few years, every time I do something new, there ‘s usually a voice in the back of my head that asks me, “How would you catalog this adventure on your blog? What would be the title of the blogpost? What kind of title works best for SEO?”

Going forward, I’m going to ask that voice to hush. Not to say I won’t share my learnings, but I’ll preface now that my future writings may not be written for search engine optimization. It’ll be raw. And from title to body, a truer expression of what I want to share.

So where do I go from here?

I’ve hedged to be fair my entire professional career. I’ve done tons, which on paper, seems like a lot, but I’ve never fully spent time immersing myself in only one thing. And nothing but one thing. I’m context switching all the time, which probably means I live 20-30% less of a day than a focused person.

So I’m going to have to take more risks. ‘Cause I’m starting to believe that in order to do something that cannot be copied, I’m gonna need to focus more.

Photo by Mike Lewis HeadSmart Media on Unsplash

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.

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Why Investors Talk about Grit

exercise, grit, persistence

“Magic is just spending more time on a trick that anyone would ever expect to be worth it.” — Penn & Teller

Five years ago, back in 2018, I would have never guessed. But I fell in love with the soles of another person’s feet. And I knew this was going to be one of the most tenacious people I’d ever meet.

I was introduced to “Ben” by a dear friend with one line, “No one can outhustle him.” “Ben” grew up with an insatiable appetite to learn, in a village located on the outskirts of Cairo. He would spend many days and nights in conversation with village experts and the village library, until one day he noticed he learned all he could have.

It just so happens that there’s a two-hour bus to Cairo that comes once a week. And that was how he found the libraries in Cairo, where he realized his interest in AI. But due to the bus’ odd schedules, instead of riding it, Ben chose to instead walk ten hours to Cairo every week. He’d then download, read, and print (to bring back to his village) as many Stanford PhD research papers on AI as possible. Sleep overnight at the bus stop. Then the next day, walk ten hours back to his village, where he’d continue with his reading for the week with all the loose leaf papers he had.

Needless to say, he had the feet to show for it.

I shared that story with a friend two days ago at the perennially-packed Superhot. We were chatting about the traits we look for in founders we back and the questions we ask to get there. The latter of which I’ve written about before. And at the early stages, the chief thing we look for is grit. There’s a tweet I stumbled on this week summarizes that rather nicely:

The problem is it’s so hard to see if a founder has the qualities of a “white belt who never quit” in just one meeting, even a few meetings. So, instead of sharing what questions we ask founders — most of which I know are designed to be reveal tells of grit, and are at least to my friend and his team, proprietary to some degree — I’ll share why grit matters, not just as a founder trait, but as a variable in the fundraising process, and a story that I hope will inspire you.

Candy versus the meal

One of the frameworks I love thinking about is the difference between how people think and what people talk about. This is by no means original. I actually stumbled across this when watching Malcolm Gladwell on Masterclass. For instance, when people watched the most recent Avatar movie, they didn’t say “Here’s the plot of the movie.” They talk about their favorite scenes or how great the performance capture was for underwater sequences. Neither is all-encompassing of the movie, but it gets people excited. That’s what word of mouth is.

Malcolm Gladwell calls it the meal and the candy, respectively. The meal is how people think — what people take home. They sit down with it and take time to process. The candy is what people talk about. The parts of the narrative that are easiest to share and remember.

From a go-to-market presentation I did earlier this year

Candy without the meal is clickbait. A meal without the candy means no one will talk about the good work you do. So you need both.

Similarly, in the world of venture, when I, like most other investors get excited about a deal, assuming it’s a good one, don’t talk about the whole pitch deck. Neither do I get super excited about sharing the one-liner unless it’s actually something unique. Like when a bike-sharing company pitched their one-liner as “We make walking fun.”

What I talk about is what’s cool and what stands out. That’s the investor’s word of mouth. And that’s how you fill a round. Or get people excited to help you find investors who will. Things I shared before include:

  • “That startup that hit 130% net retention.”
  • “Customers literally write love letters to the founders.”
  • “That founder cold emailed a Disney exec for 300 days straight to inevitably close their first enterprise deal.”
  • “This founder started a podcast as a growth engine to 1/ secure his first 10 customers, 2/ bring on one of the best advisory board I’ve seen to date.”

As you might notice, it’s almost impossible to guess what each company does above with just what I shared. And it sure as hell doesn’t get investors to conviction with just that. But they’re powerful enough for investors to take a second look at and talk about. Among the above, the absolute favorite thing investors love to talk about with each other is a founder’s ability to hustle. And subsequently, their Herculean efforts that demonstrate grit.

Years later, my friend on Wednesday was still talking about a founder he backed who waited in the cold outside an exec’s office until he got a meeting. Then found unique ways to turn 20 minutes into 30 minutes into hours into their first enterprise client.

The thing is it’s rare to see this. Most people promise that they will, but the best founders have demonstrated this grit time and time again before, against seemingly impossible odds. And they’re only “impossible” if you’ve set lofty goals in the past and you did nothing short of your best to try and achieve it. I’ll give another example. One that I knew if he was to start another business, you knew he was going to make it happen.

Spoiler alert: He did.

From losing everything to acquisition

I first met Anthony at 1517 Fund’s quincentennial “anniversary” summit back in 2017, designed to bring together the world’s most divergent thinkers.

The first thing you notice about Anthony is that he had a small frame. A demeanor that belied his life experiences and the courage it took for him to share them. Yet, he has a way to command the attention of his audience.

He started his business back in freshman year of college delivering food to his fellow classmates at USC. It started off as a side hustle to earn some spare change. Something he didn’t expect would become something greater, until one day Mark Cuban came to USC to give a talk.

As the fireside chat ended sooner than expected, Mark polled the audience, “What if we did a live Shark Tank?” Anthony explained that while unsure if it’ll work, but not wanting to let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity go, he decided to pitch this idea he’d been working on — which at that point, was not even an app, but just a series of text messages between friends who ordered food and friends who were willing to deliver them.

To his surprise, Mark loved it. Soon that snowballed into Anthony dropping out of school to focus on the business full-time. They got into 500, and he became a Thiel fellow. But one spring later, amidst the hype of a party in Vegas, he miscalculated a dive into the pool. Fractured his spine. And became paralyzed from the neck down.

In the ensuing months, his top priority was not to grow what became EnvoyNow, but to breathe, to drink water — to survive. His co-founders had promised him they would look after the business and that he should focus on recovery. So he did. Months passed. And while Anthony still sat in the occasional company meeting, he was focused on mobility and feeding himself.

A few more months passed by, and one day, his co-founders decided to visit him while he was still focused on recovering. And they broke the news. The business was stalling. Investors had lost faith. Moreover, both his co-founders had already lined up new opportunities and wanted to close the business down.

As I sat listening, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d do in that situation. Anthony instead decided to go back full-time to the business and win back his remaining team and investors. He said, “I went back to our investors. I shared where we were at, which wasn’t good. And asked them to believe in me once more. They did once before, and as long as I showed I was still passionate about the business, I was banking on the hope that some will still continue to support us.” Luckily, a small handful did.

With renewed drive and determination, and a tough situation to get out of, within the year, they expanded to 16 schools and employed 1500 students around the nation. The rest is history. They sold to JoyRun. And Anthony went on to found more companies, including his current one, Vinovest, which he started 2019 and raised an A in 2021.

If you’re curious about the additional details to the story, there’s also a great 2017 Fortune piece cataloging his journey. I love the line Blake Masters, President of the Thiel Foundation, shared in that piece, “Good luck finding something that will hold [Anthony] back.”

In closing

There’s a fun little thought exercise a couple investors I know used to do (maybe still do). They first posed the question to me when I first jumped into venture, which is:

If you had two young founders… One went to MIT, graduated with a 4.0 GPA in computer science, and was summa cum laude. The other is a high school graduate, and instead of paying over $200,000 over 4 years, took every single MIT computer science course on Coursera in one year. All else held equal, who would you invest in?

Naturally, the answer biases towards the latter. Yet, in the past few years, or at least since I’ve been in the world of VC, there’s been a bunch of logo shopping and chasing the idea of “signal.” While no one says is explicitly, logos have become more important than the hustle.

Today, we’re in a tough market. One where we haven’t seen the light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, we don’t even know when we’re at the trough yet. Or at least, the lagging indicator that we are is a massive slowdown or lack of layoffs. Yet, we recently saw Google, as well as Microsoft and Amazon, go through cuts.

And so, it no longer matters who you’re backed by or where you’ve come from. As Engineering Capital’s Ashmeet Sidana said, “A company’s success makes a VC’s reputation; a VC’s success does not make a company’s reputation. In other words to take a concrete example, Google is a great company. Google is not a great company because Sequoia invested in them. Sequoia is a great venture firm because they invested in Google.”

What matters is that you can make it out the other side. What matters is that you’re inventive and creative, that you can tighten your belt and put the pedal to the metal, and do what looks in retrospect as superhuman.

And that requires perseverance and the ability to learn. That requires spending more time on something than anyone would ever expect to be worth it. As you do so, you embark on what VCs call — insight development.

Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.

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2022 Year in Review

rollercoaster, sunset

This year I learned a lot. From the fact that most of my readers love to read my blogposts on Wednesday 2PM Pacific to how I could get general partners — some of the smartest people in VC — to be vulnerable and candid to how to set up an SPV from scratch (without the help of any platform). It’s been a rollercoaster. And I loved every second of it.

My blog grew modestly. No hockey-stick curve. And that’s okay. I enjoyed inking each word. To me, that’s what makes this blog worth it.

I’ve written 87,000 words, with over a third fewer posts than last year. I want to say I was busy. And I was. But another equally true reason was that I was scared to disappoint. I wasn’t content publishing half-baked ideas. And it sucks when I know I wanted to write more. How? Because as of today, I have 53 drafts just sitting in my WordPress folder. With 245 total published essays, that’s a sixth of my thoughts I withheld or postponed because I thought: “They’re not good enough.”

Comfort is powerful. And earlier this year I found myself resigning to habitual cycles I had developed in the year prior. A fear manifested into reality. So I made a promise to myself to escape the clutches of complacency.

But while I hesitated on the writing front, I chose to take risk elsewhere. I took big bets. For one-way door decisions, bets I didn’t wait for a 100% conviction on. And just jumped when I got to 70%. As a function, I had many firsts.

It’s the first economic downturn I’m living and working through (2008 and the dot com era don’t really count as I was still in grade school).

For the first-time I broke my streak of writing weekly since the inception of this blog. While I can blame servers and bugs, the reason was simple. I just wasn’t prepared enough.

I set up my first SPV (special purpose vehicle) from scratch. With a s**tload of help, but yes, from incorporating to legal docs to setting up bank accounts, and so on.

I started interviewing LPs in fireside chats — something I never imagined I would end up love doing or be capable of doing.

I hosted my first social experiment-like event paid for and sponsored by investors for investors, rather than my usual audience of thrill seekers. Based on the feedback, I’d say it was a success. Many learnings and an indispensable village helping behind the scenes. A handful of things that could have been better. But a night of surprises. And I learned — something I hope to share more in the future (as I have larger sample sizes) — events, just like books, movies, shows, podcasts, and so on, are stories. And stories have settings, character developments, plots, a climax, and an end where the audience can imagine no other (to steal a line from Robert McKee).

Additionally, I…

  • Took my first vacation, not touching any work at all, in six years;
  • Went to my first traditional Vietnamese wedding; hell, travelled to Southeast Asia for the first time;
  • Successfully made fruit chips en masse;
  • Realized my favorite photo mode is portrait mode;
  • Built my first PC;
  • Put together my first career manifesto — my professional raison d’être.

And it’s still not enough.

But I digress. While I wrote far fewer posts, 2022 was the year I wanted to make things count. As Muhammad Ali once said, “Don’t count the days; make the days count.” The below, while I wish I had a longer list, are the blogposts that counted.

2022’s Most Popular

The below are the essays that I published during 2022, and generated the most views, ranked from most to 5th most:

  1. The Emerging LP Playbook – I never expected this one to take the top spot this year. Borne out of a personal curiosity and an attempt to better understand the black box industry of LP investing, ever since Andrew Gluck put “emerging” and “LP” back-to-back on a Zoom call, I had to learn more about it. The truth is I only knew a handful of known LPs at the time, but I’m happy this piece has expanded the horizon for not only myself, but everyone else out there who’s read this curious piece. It answers just one nexus question: For a first-time LP, where do you start?
  2. 99 Pieces of Unsolicited, (Possibly) Ungoogleable Startup Advice – I’m a collector. And have been so for a while. Specifically, a collector of quotes. I have journals dedicated to them. When the pandemic hit, I had a thought, what if I collected 99 soundbites (some albeit my own) about being a founder? All tactical. And each will share an actionable lesson. And I shared them. I didn’t know how long it’d take, but I knew that 99 sounded like a good number.
  3. How to Get Investors to Just Ask One Question: “How Can I Invest?” – I had the chance sit down with Siqi Chen, one of the best storytellers I know. And he broke down just what a founder needs to do to secure the bag. The caveat is it usually doesn’t happen after your first fundraising pitch.
  4. What Does Signal Mean For An Early-Stage Investor? – The word ‘signal’ has been thrown around quite a bit in the last two years — 2020 and 2021, if you’re a time traveler and reading this in the future. For instance, an investor would look for ‘signal’ before investing in a deal. In the above blogpost, I break down exactly what ‘signal’ means. And I imagine, in whatever time period governed by FOMO (fear of missing out), ‘signal’ will rhyme.
  5. 99 Pieces of Unsolicited, (Possibly) Ungoogleable Advice For Investors – Just like the one I wrote for founders, soon after, I thought I’d put a list of 99 soundbites for investors. And as I jumped at the opportunity to work with the brilliant team at On Deck Angels, I was living and breathing everything about investors — from angel investing to fund investing. Of course, you can sense my heavy bias towards to latter.

All-Time Most Popular

The funny, yet in hindsight, unsurprising, thing, is that the below are perfect examples of the power law, collectively generating 90% of the views ever on my blog. The below ranked in view count popularity:

  1. The Emerging LP Playbook – I wrote this piece for myself and other investors looking to be LPs. Unsuspectingly so (at least in foresight), this piece generated a huge amount of excitement not only with my initial intended audience — who, I thought, was a niche audience — but also among many VCs and angels out there. I rarely write in hopes to change people’s minds. I’m not much of a persuasive writer, but rather I hope my words offer oases for people searching for answers in a desolate desert. But of the feedback I’ve gotten, it has surprisingly changed a number of people’s minds about LPs, as well as about different asset classes to invest in.
  2. 99 Pieces of Unsolicited, (Possibly) Ungoogleable Startup Advice – Same as the above.
  3. 10 Letters of Thanks to 10 People who Changed my Life – To this day, it still baffles me how this is the most perennially popular essay I’ve written. The SEO keywords I’ve optimized for here are all related to Thanksgiving, yet the fact that search engines bring me new readers every single week without fail is an enigma I’m still unravelling. That said, I am thankful to everyone who’s given me and the 10 people I am deeply thankful for that year the attention and time out of your busy schedule.
  4. How to Pitch VCs Without Ever Having to Send the Pitch Deck – Teach them something new. Many founders who’ve worked with me can attest that that’s been my favorite line to lead with when they ask for fundraising advice. This blogpost and the person behind it (who’ll stay anonymous for now) is the reason for that.
  5. #unfiltered #30 Inspiration and Frustration – The Honest Answers From Some of the Most Resilient People Going through a World of Uncertainty – (Part two of which you can find here.) Interestingly enough, I knew this one would stand the test of time. Something we learn in Econ 101 is that business cycles come in booms and busts. And they oscillate between great times and bad times. The human emotion, our daily lives, and our careers are no exception. Collectively, I queried 42 world-class professionals about their greatest motivators. What keeps them going? I ask them two questions, but the catch is they’re only allowed to answer one of them. These pieces are a gentle reminder that bad times, like good times, never last.

Most Memorable Pieces in 2022

In writing each of the below, I felt the needle move forward. Not for the world or for the people immediately around me. But for me. That I myself took one small essay forward, but a disproportionately giant leap in the way I thought about the world around me. Each is the culmination of not just a few hours of writing, but of many things more. Provocative conversations. Research deep dives. And generous people.

In no particular order, if I were to hide pieces of my 2022 soul and mind in Horcruxes, they would be in the below:

  • The Emerging LP Playbook – You’ll realize that this blogpost appears in all three lists. The first two are outside of my control. But the reason it appears here is this piece catalyzed a spark that’ll come more into fruition in 2023. A spark that emerged from realizing the massive information asymmetry between LPs and GPs. Hell, even between LPs.
  • How to Develop Intuition as a Rookie Startup Investor – This dates as far back as 2017, when I first inked the thought in my notebook. The thesis was simple. Intuition — one’s sixth sense was a subconscious function of the mastery of the other five senses. But then, I felt ill-equipped to explicitly describe what other investors were feeling, and over time, what I was feeling as a function of what I was thinking. In it, I share each of the questions I consider and their respective answers that inform each of my senses (sight, hearing, taste, etc.).
  • How do You Know if You Should Professionalize as an Investor? – I love asking questions. To the point, and I don’t mean this in a tongue-in-cheek way, that often the best way to answer a question is with another question. I’ve gotten the above question many a time this past year, and this piece is a permutation of what helps me get to first-principles thinking when it comes to: Should you raise a fund… or stay an angel?
  • Five Tactical Lessons After Hosting 100+ Fireside Chats – I love hosting interviews. I really do. Part of it is due to the fact I love asking questions. The other half is… well… the average coffee chat is 30 minutes long. Half of it disappears after exchanging pleasantries. So, the big question is: How do you get more time with people you respect? One answer among many is by giving them a stage. That said, as I was doing my homework to be a better MC, the information out there is either paltry or too generic. So I made a promise to myself that as I do more myself I’ll share all the non-obvious lessons I learn. So that others can do better than me. And I hopefully, get to learn from them as they get better.
  • When Should You Sell Your Shares As An Investor? – Selling is really an art more than science. Like investing, often obvious in hindsight, but painfully scary in foresight. And to be a great investor, you have to distribute your earnings. And in order to earn, you have to turn something illiquid into something liquid. This piece was one of my first explorations behind what makes selling hard and how some of the best do it.
  • Quirks That Just Make Sense – Maybe there’s a bit of recency bias here, but this is something a few of my friends have known about me for a while. I just never had a good excuse to talk about it publicly. (Weird that I thought I ever needed an excuse to). But my good buddy Matt brought me out of my shell a few weeks back. And together we put together a piece about the quirks we carry and the origin story of each. Coincidentally enough, just watched Garry Tan’s video yesterday about a similar topic.

In closing

Cheers to a year of life lessons, friendships, skills and experiences acquired that were well worth the ride! And many more to come! If there’s ever any topic you would like me to write about in the future, don’t hesitate to let me know. I have two nominations already.

To peruse one of Kurt Vonnegut‘s lessons, I hope to continue to use your time in a way that you feel is not wasted.

Thank you. And stay tuned.

Photo by iStrfry , Marcus on Unsplash

Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!

Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal, investment, business, or tax advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.

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Quirks That Just Make Sense

different, quirky, weird

“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status quo… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… They push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the people who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
— Steve Jobs

We live in a world where everyone is seeking validation from some kind of audience — large or small. And I’ve come to realize over the years that as long as we’re chasing what most people want, we will eventually be like most people. And truth be told, forgettable. Speaking for myself, I will just be a number in a sea of sameness, rather than THE number.

I realized later than I would have liked that I didn’t want to be like everyone else, after being inspired by a rejection email from someone I deeply respect when she replied with four words “Be interested and interesting.” And I count myself lucky to be surrounded by people who think different, to borrow a phrase Steve Jobs loves. For some, that means going where no human has gone before. For others, it’s a means to live their most fulfilling life.

So, I can only thank my good buddy Matt — one of the most outlier and honest-to-goodness thinkers I know — for the alchemical jazz that birthed this blogpost. Our only ask is that you suspend judgment until you reach the end. What may seem eccentric at first glance may prove to be the kernel of inspiration you didn’t know you needed today.

Below is only a snippet of quirks — seven to be exact — that make the two of us us, but hoping this inspires a larger conversation of people being unapologetically themselves.

  1. The whiteboard in the shower: Leaving no shower thought unturned
  2. Dream journaling: Better access to conscious and subconscious memory
  3. High-quality notebooks: Evergreen homes to high-quality ideas
  4. The Emotional Catalog: The vending machine of emotions
  5. The Excite-o-Meter: Matt’s personal Stoke Diary
  6. Marriage counseling: A recipe for strong co-founder relationships
  7. Restaurant recipes: It never hurts to ask

1. The whiteboard in the shower: Leaving no shower thought unturned

There are only two kinds of reactions I get when I tell people this. Utter bewilderment. And, what I call, sparkle-eyes.

Many of my best ideas happen in the shower. In fact, about 60-70% of the topics I write about on this blogpost found its origin in the shower. But, forget myself for a second. There’s a whole movement in the world called shower thoughts. There’s also some great academic literature on the subject — that hot showers open your pores, helps your blood circulate, and put you in dopamine-high, yet relaxed states, just to name a few. But whether the science matters or not here, one of my biggest frustrations in life is losing access to great ideas just because I couldn’t commit it to memory or document them. Many of mine merely happen to start in the shower.

So, with a small purchase of a $10 whiteboard and $15-20 rainproof markers, you’ll be set.

2. Dream journaling: Better access to conscious and subconscious memory

I’ve been fascinated by dreams ever since I was a kid. Luckily, blessed by vivid imagination, I was able to synthesize the art, movies, and stories I was consuming into interactive experiences in the amphitheater of my mind. To me, dreams were the ever-evolving playground that very few tangible experiences could rival. I’m gonna be hated for saying this, but I remember the day I was let down by the Disneyland promise. I was only seven. And I told myself that day, I would start trying to remember my dreams.

You see, as fantastically awesome as dreams are, the only downside is I forget the vast majority of them within seconds of waking up.

So, for a long, long time, I’ve been dream journaling. I have a notebook by my bedside. And every time, I remember a dream, I write it down and/or draw it out. Even if all I remember is a single word or a single image. Over time, I get better at it. The better I get at capturing my dreams, the more intentional I get.

There’s now a whole slew of literature on the topic, but for me, it’s fun. And an interesting byproduct of it all is I seem to have better memory than most of my peers.

3. High-quality notebooks: Evergreen homes to high-quality ideas

This is truly a prime example that while we all come from different backgrounds, curious minds can reach the same conclusion from different angles. That’s exactly what happened when Matt and I were ideating for this blogpost when we realized we both graduated from ten-cent back-to-school-sale spiral-bound notebooks.

The more expensive the notebook, the more respect you treat it with, and the higher quality of thoughts you will entrust it to house. Think of it like sunk cost fallacy. After all, it’d be a pity to leave the sacred halls between the two leather covers unadorned with ideas that would complement the quality of the frame.

To Matt and I, our weapon of choice is Leuchtturm1917. For myself, undeniably, paper that boasts the density of 150 g/m2.

4. The Emotional Catalog: The vending machine of emotions

The human emotional spectrum is fascinating, yet quite volatile and unreliable when you most need it. For instance, I know I’m not alone in this, but I used to always find myself feeling anger and aggression upon hearing constructive feedback, rather than curiosity. That I felt anxiety and overwhelmed when on stage rather than excitement and confidence. That I felt frustrated and discouraged when writing blogposts when I want to feel inspired.

So when I committed to this blog in 2019, I started keeping tabs on when I feel strong emotions, hoping to preserve these emotions in cryogenic slumber and awakening them when I needed them most. I keep a Google Doc that has a glossary of emotions in it — from joy to anger, from optimism to jealousy, from compassion to sadness, just to name a few. And each time I consume a medium that inspires a certain emotion, I include it in that doc. They become my shots of espresso when I’m just on the wrong side of the bed.

For example, I find inspiration from Ratatouille. Or Avatar. Or Admiral William McRaven’s UT Austin commencement speech. I feel grateful after watching The Blind Side. Yet, if I want to feel sad, I watch Thai life insurance commercials (here’s an example of one). Envy, from select friends’ Facebook/LinkedIn posts. Direction, from Kurt Vonnegut or Brandon Sanderson’s lectures. And the list goes on.

5. The Excite-o-Meter: Matt’s personal Stoke Diary

Matt: I’m a big believer that energy is palpable, but ephemeral. Like a wisp of smoke, energy is beautiful and can dazzle and inspire, but it fades… eventually. The buzz dies down, and it saddens me. That’s why I’ve developed a practice to immortalize positive energy – by keeping a running list labeled “Excite-o-Meter.” It’s my personal Stoke Diary.

Here’s how it works.

At the beginning of every week, I create a “dashboard” in a specific notebook I have for work –- a two-page canvas that I reference back to throughout the week. Page one contains items that I detail at the beginning of the week, like my “Big Rocks” (priorities for the week) and “Principles to Uphold” (personal growth tenets I aspire to embody). 

Page two is more dynamic. It contains running logs of moments that captivated me in the present, that I choose to immortalize.

I allocate 25% of page two to the “Key Learnings” of the week. But the real magic happens with the other 75% of the page. I label this section “Excite-o-Meter.”

My rule is that anytime my excitement exceeds a very scientifically-defined 7/10, I jot it down immediately. 

Reached alignment on a cross-functional project that was birthed out of a chaotic primordial soup of conflicting objectives? Jotted. 

Overcame a once-limiting belief, reminding myself that I hold the paintbrush against the canvas of my life? Jotted. 

My SQL query finally ran after debugging it for 24 minutes? Jotted.

At the individual level, it helps me memorialize the moment, etching it down onto my notebook and simultaneously, my mind. But when I read the log in periods of reflection, when I browse weeks worth of “Excite-o-Meter” entries – it reminds me of who I am. Of what gets me to tick. Of what makes me experience pure exuberance. It’s my Stoke Diary, and it’s my ever-growing source of inspiration.

6. Marriage counseling: A recipe for strong co-founder relationships

Two and a half years ago, after a conversation with one of my favorite founders, I stumbled across the parallels of marriages and co-founder relationships. Ever since, while I don’t do so with any element of regularity, I’ve found couple counseling to be a huge unlock to demystifying sticky co-founder dynamics, hell, even how to make amends with friends.

7. Restaurant recipes: It never hurts to ask

I stumbled across this one quite accidentally. So, one of the things I’m quite known for among my group of friends is that I like bringing a notebook with me almost everywhere. And there have been multiple times that for a party of two, I’ve been the first to arrive. In hopes to capture my thoughts and ideas before they dissipate into the cosmos, as soon as I am seated at the restaurant, I immediately start to take notes. Additionally, when I ponder, I tend to look around as if my eyes were bees just hovering above sunflowers in a prairie without any intent to rest on any particular nectary.

That, in effect, without even noticing it myself, makes me look like a food critic — to which I’ve been offered complimentary drinks and appetizers while waiting for my dinner guest. On occasion, they serve me something I wouldn’t have ordered myself and I love it. And well, being a curious home cook I am, I had to ask how they make it, in hopes of replicating the flavor and/or texture profile at home. And I remember the first time I worked up my courage to ask, the chef de cuisine hand-wrote out her full recipe and gave it to me at the end of the meal.

Ever since, every time I like a dish at a restaurant, I give my compliments to the chef and politely ask for the recipe. Most times I get a thank you but no, but surprisingly and anecdotally, about 40-50% of the time, I actually get the recipe. And in a small, small handful of times, the chef shows me how to make the dish live.

In closing

Most people don’t self-describe themselves as quirky. Neither do they seek to find a quirk that best describes them. Quirks are products of self-discovery and unadulterated problem-solving at its purest. Bespoke solutions to ones’ problems, unabated from society’s judgmental eye, birthed by the crazy ones. And that is something Matt and I find magical.

In fact, when Matt brought up this topic with his bud, Rebecca, recently, she described it best, “Quirks are an evolutionary adaptation. They stand out and persist because they survive. Because they are a survival mechanism. Everyone has a bunch of systems. I have a way of organizing my notes, packing my suitcase, curating my notes, and a bunch more.”

While the purpose of this blogpost isn’t for you to pick what quirks you like and copy them (while we won’t stop you if you do), rather, we hope this helps you better understand where quirks come from. And just maybe, this will help you build the blueprint schematics to what makes you you.

Photo by Mulyadi on Unsplash

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