For any content creator, like myself, it’s incredibly easy to bifurcate ourselves along two paths.
Everything you create is going to change the world. I am important.
Nothing you create has any impact on the world around you. I carry no value.
Some voices over time have profound power on society. They hold the capacity to elicit widespread mimetic behavior. And many an author have snowballed down this thesis – for better or worse. There’s a saying that goes: You’re never as good as they say you are; you’re also never as bad as they say you are. Or maybe that was just a paraphrase of Lou Holtz‘s line: “You’re never as good as everyone tells you when you win, and you’re never as bad as they say when you lose.”
So, the flip side, the rise of citizen journalism has led more and more people to share transient perspectives of themselves or of the world in the form of social content. With the occasional goal of turning such fleeting outlooks into enduring memorabilia. Be it through Medium or TikTok, Substack or Instagram, YouTube or Clubhouse. A blog like this or a podcast. Yet when zooming out, we see the incremental impact of each additional voice is often drowned in the noise that populates the 21st century internet.
The truth, really, is somewhere in the middle. Where exactly? I don’t know. And frankly, it’s different for each genre and speaker out there.
Yet that doesn’t mean we should stop. At least for me, in knowing that I have positively impacted just one person’s life in a meaningful way is enough of a reason to continue. And if there’s a ripple effect beyond myself, then I am steps closer to having a life worth beyond a single century.
Brian Armstrong of Coinbase recently wrote via a blogpost. “The tools for distribution have become democratized, and every company can become a source of truth.” In a similar way, each individual – a company of one, a solopreneur in her/his own right – can become a source of truth. Each individual is a platform for the story we ourselves want to tell that isn’t misinformed or misaligned with post-production and traditional media incentives. Of course, it’s still up to us to have a head above two shoulders. Every individual can become a source of truth. But that doesn’t mean every individual is a source of truth. It’s up to our own judgment to think critically and act accordingly.
But let’s be honest. What I write isn’t journalism. It’s just a formulation of opinions and anecdotal observations over the course of time. While I try to approach my content from as much of an unbiased and informed perspective as possible, reality is I’m still missing something. In many ways, each of you is learning how I learn as I learn. Or maybe you’re already two steps ahead.
#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!
Many of my friends are no stranger to the ephemeral nature of my creative outbursts. Some of these ideas are whimsical in nature. Where, from the start, they carried no real weight behind their punch. A deplorable few collected dust in the attic, as a product of giving myself the time to think twice. To second-guess myself. In fact, partly due to being in VC, I became quite proficient at saying “No.” I was so good at saying “No” that I forgot how to say “Yes”. And as I wrote before, the theme of this year is to say “Yes” to more opportunities to experience growing pains. So, when my friend brought up something she used to track things she repeatedly says “Yes”, then “No” to, I was intrigued. She called it her fickle jar. And of course, I had to ask.
Both she and I share common ground. In the sense, that we happen to be promiscuous when it comes to ideas. We mint and host a multitude of ideas. But often don’t give most of our thoughts a double take before we abandon them. They retire from our lips before they have an opportunity to marinate in our minds.
So both of us needed this fickle jar. The fickle jar is a jar chronicling everything you might be fickle on. Soft commitments of “I should do X.” Or “It’d be cool to do Y”. It’s a visualization of the loose promises you make to yourself. Every time you think of a something you want to or should do, write it down. Draw it in its own bubble. Each idea isolated from the next – though some might be related. And each time you follow through and act on the idea, you color your bubble in. When you finish a jar, make another one. Over time, you can visually see what your creativity to commitment ratio is.
Over the next few months to years, I know I’ll accumulate enough fickle jars to have my own fermentation station in my basement. The goal of all of this is to visually track my partiality between creativity and commitment. But moreover, to emphasize intentionality. In the event I propose an idea – which is inevitable – it’s not a fleeting thought. And those of a less ephemeral nature, I take it and give it a go, regardless of the outcome. Hesitation has always been the enemy of my progress. Ideally, over time, I commit to most ideas that spring up. But realistically, I know it isn’t possible. Neither should it be a priority.
Yesterday morning, I was reading First Round’s interview with Irving Fain, co-founder of Bowery Farming, who recently announced their $300M Series C round. While not your first-time founder, having built CrowdTwist (acq. Oracle) and iHeartRadio, with Bowery, he, nevertheless, jumped into an industry he knew little about.
“I could sit on a chair and think my way around this problem for another decade, but when building a company, you never avoid that moment where you have to jump off the cliff. In some respects, what you want to try to make the cliff-to-ground ratio as small as you can. But there is no amount of work and research that avoids the fact that at some point you’re jumping off into the abyss.” So like Irving, I need to have the nerve to jump into the abyss – at least more so than the status quo. I just have to say “yes” to the genre of ideas that have historically left me in decision paralysis.
Fain goes on to say, “Before I started my first company, I spent enormous amounts of time evaluating, evaluating, evaluating, saying no, and evaluating, evaluating, evaluating, and saying no. And in hindsight, I look back and say, ‘Wow, I said no to some great ideas.’ I spent way too much time getting to the wrong answer, arguably.”
I recently realized that some of the biggest risks I ended up taking is spending undue time amidst inaction. The risk is the opportunity cost of the time I could be spending elsewhere. Yet I choose indecision – an infertile stalemate. Crops won’t grow if the soil hasn’t been tilled.
She also noted, “Fickle also rhymes with pickle.”
Ironically, this essay almost became a fickle pickle ’cause I was too lazy to transcribe my fickle jar.
#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 amazing Paul “PG” Graham came out with an essay this month on crazy new ideas. And the thing I’ve learned over the years, being in Silicon Valley, is if PG writes, you read. In it, one section in particular stood out:
“Most implausible-sounding ideas are in fact bad and could be safely dismissed. But not when they’re proposed by reasonable domain experts. If the person proposing the idea is reasonable, then they know how implausible it sounds. And yet they’re proposing it anyway. That suggests they know something you don’t. And if they have deep domain expertise, that’s probably the source of it.
“Such ideas are not merely unsafe to dismiss, but disproportionately likely to be interesting.”
I’ve written a number of essays about crazy ideas. Here. Also here. The last of which you’ll need to Ctrl F “crazy”, if you don’t want to read through all of it. And also, most recently, here. But that’s besides the point. The common theme between all of these is that crazy ideas are not hard to come by. Crazy good ideas are. Good implies that you’re right when everyone else thinks you’re crazy. When you’re in the minority. And the smaller of the minority you are in, the greater the margin on the upside. Potential upside, to be fair.
As investors, we hear crazy pitches every so often. David Cowan at Bessemer even wrote a satire on it all. For the crazy pitches, go to episode five. The question is: How do we differentiate the crazy ideas from the crazy good ideas? But as PG says, if it’s coming from someone we know is a subject-matter expert (SME) and they’re usually grounded on logic and reasoning, then we spend time listening. Asking questions. And listening. ‘Cause they most likely know something we don’t.
That was true for Brian Armstrong, who recently brought his company, Coinbase, public. He worked on fraud detection for Airbnb in its early days prior. And he knew he was getting into the deep end with crypto back in 2012. But he realized how unscalable crypto transactions were and how frustrated he was. Garry Tan, then at YC and part-time at Initialized, saw exactly that in him. A reasonable SME with a crazy idea. Garry just released an amazing interview between him and Brian too, if you want to tune into the full story.
What if some of the variables in the equation are missing?
But most of the time the founders you’re talking to aren’t subject-matter experts with deep domain expertise. Or at least, they haven’t left an online breadcrumb trail of whether they’re a thought leader or if they’re reasonable human beings. So subsequently, in the little time I have with founders in a first or second meeting, I look for proxies.
For proxies on domain expertise, I go back to first principles. What are the underlying assumptions you are making? Why are they true? How did you arrive at them? What are the growing trends (i.e. market, economic, social, tech, etc.) that have primed your startup to succeed in the market? Does timing work out?
To see if they’re “reasonable” under PG’s definition, I seek creative conflict. How do you disagree with people? If I brought in a contrarian opinion you don’t agree with, how do you enlighten me? How do you disagree with your co-founders?
In closing
To be fair, we’re not always right. In fact, we’re rarely right. On average, in a hypothetical portfolio of 10 startups, five to six go to zero. One to two break even. Another one to two make a 2-3x on investment. That is to say, they return to the investor $2-3 for every $1 invested. And hopefully, one, just one, kills it, and becomes that fund returner. Fund returner – what we call an investment that returns the whole fund and maybe more. Of course, every time a VC invests, they’re aiming for the fences every time. As a VC once told me, “it’s not about the batting average but the magnitude of the home runs you hit.” And even in those 10 investments, it’s a stretch to say that all of them are “crazy” ideas.
But the hope is that even if we’re wrong on the idea, we’re right on the people.
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I recently came across the above quote – the attribution to Einstein. And I found it extremely prescient. In the world last year. And in the years ahead.
Creativity is the ability to find inner peace in a busy world. To weave cacophony into symphony. The ability to recognize and chart patterns between the pixels and decibels around us. A guiding, focusing, and metaphorical – and I mean metaphorical in its truest form – principle that abstracts you from the literal shackles of your current situation. Now before I get to abstract…
I’ve written about where I find my inspiration on numerousoccasions, including while I’m:
Exercising
Driving
Cooking
Showering
Listening to podcasts
Washing the dishes
… just to name a few. In each of the above, I give myself the intellectual bandwidth and the time to ponder. Simply ponder. With no goal or predestination in mind. Frankly, this blog is a product of such intellectual adventures.
And I know I’m not alone. In the world coming out of the pandemic, this may cause a new revolution of creativity.
Our grassroots
Hundreds of thousands of years ago, we transitioned from a nomadic to a more specialized lifestyle. The transition to specialized roles in a hunter-gatherer society allowed hominids to share the responsibility of survival. As we learn in the basics of economics, economies that have comparative advantages who trade can create a larger global supply of goods and services. In this case, it was the cooperation among the citizens of the same society that freed individuals’ bandwidths to explore other interests, including, but not limited to:
Controlled use of fire
Adaptability to colder climates
Specialized hunting tools, like fishhooks, bow and arrows, harpoons and bone and ivory needles
Intricate knowledge of edible plants
While hand-built shelters likely go as far back as 400,000 years ago, and huts made of wood, rock and bone as far back as 50,000 years ago, it wasn’t until the Neolithic Revolution that agricultural culture became a permanent habitual change. In the emergence of an agricultural lifestyle, humans now freed up time they would have otherwise spent on migration or hunting. And with that same free time, they invented more creative means of living, not just survival, like the means to combat disease and increased agricultural knowledge. Economists Douglass North and Robert Paul Thomas call this Neolithic Revolution the “first economic revolution“. The two state this was the result of “a decline in the productivity of labour in hunting, a rise in the productivity of labour in agriculture, or [an] … expansion of the size of the labour-force”.
Maslow’s Hierarchy
If we look at Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, the evolution of free time, and therefore creativity, makes complete sense. Psychologist Abraham Maslowwrote in 1943 that humans make decisions motivated five tiers of psychological needs.
Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs
A person’s most basic, tangible needs are at the bottom, whereas the intangibles reside at the top. And according to Maslow, you cannot begin to fathom the higher echelons of your needs, like esteem and self-actualization, until you’ve fulfilled the tiers underneath. Maslow also calls self-actualization “growth needs” and the lower tiers “deficiency needs”. In a very real sense, when you’re struggling to find food and shelter or job security, you don’t have the mental capacity or free time to entertain how high your potential can go. Time, specifically leisure time, is a luxury for people who have fulfilled all their deficiency needs. And that leisure time is what creatives need.
Asking the best
Of course if I was to write anything on creativity, I had to ask my buddy, DJ Welch (IG, LI) – one of the most creative minds I know. Not only did he grow his YouTube channel to 370,000 subscribers in less than three years, he was also an artist for Lucasfilm, Instagram, Cartoon Network and more. Now, he’s working on a new project – Primoral Descent – one that I’ve been excited for the public to finally see.
“As a child, my parents let me have a lot of free time. They let me make my own choices. They let me be imaginative. That’s when you come up with innovation. Creativity is a river above everyone’s head.”
When I asked him to unpack that, he said, “Good ideas are gifts from the universe – fish that swim in that river. All you have to do is learn how to reach up and fish for them. And just like fishing, if you stick around long enough – if you’re patient enough, you’ll be able to catch a few. But you never know what fish you’ll reel in. Just that you will.”
Toys for adults
We see the same with entrepreneurs and creatives. They have time to think. Time to reach into that river and pull out an idea. They are investors and the medium of investment is their time. In fact, you can argue they’ve dedicated almost every waking hour to optimize themselves to offer a creative solution or perspective into the market. They’ve made it their job to be innovative. After all, innovation, by definition, is a creative solution. Under Einstein’s definition, we could call them professional time wasters.
As Chris Dixonsays, “The next big thing will start out looking like a toy.” Today, we see the rise of NFTs, VR/AR, content creation, e-sports, and much more. Not too long ago, we had the telephone, and eventually the smartphone, as well as the internet. All of which had their origins as toys. And I know I’m only scratching the surface here. In order to have time to create toys, or for that matter, even play with toys, you need leisure time.
With that same time, more and more people are pursuing their interests and passions, creating, what Li Jin at Atelier Ventures dubbed, the “passion economy“. Similarly, more people are dabbling into new hobbies. In the pandemic, the average person saved 28 minutes of time that would have been spent on going to work. An hour on average for the round trip. Some people used that time saved to get more work done. Others used their time saved to discover new passions – be it baking, starting a podcast, hiking, or gaming. For many Americans, that extra time was paired with stimulus checks and communities coming together to cause political and economic shifts – for better or worse.
As Tal Shachar, former Chief Digital Officer at Immortals, said, “The next big thing in 2021 is the YOLO economy. Consumers will be more open to trying new products/services and spending on novel experiences, particularly with friends, as we emerge from the pandemic with pent up demand and few routines.” In the process of trying, you will inevitably uncover more surface area to expand on.
In closing
In 2021 and onwards, as entrepreneurship and solo-preneurship lowers its barriers to entry, we’re lowering the Gini Index equivalent for creativity. More people will have increased access to time – time to self-actualize. Time to challenge our status quo.
I love this line in Kevin Kelly‘s “99 Additional Bits of Unsolicited Advice“: “The greatest rewards come from working on something that nobody has a name for. If you possibly can, work where there are no words for what you do.” If you can succinctly describe what you’re working on, then you’re not really pushing the envelope.
Later in that same essay, Kelly writes, “A multitude of bad ideas is necessary for one good idea.” And to have ideas, you need time. As DJ and I were wrapping up our conversation, I asked, “So, DJ, how do you optimize for creative moments?”
And he responded with some great food for thought. “I nap. Sleeping is how I process information. As I go lay down for a nap, right in that lucid moment, I come up with my ideas. I quickly scribble them down, then go back to sleep. When I finally wake up, I go work on them. The great Winston Churchill’s naps were a non-negotiable part of his day. In fact, during WWII, he had a bed set up in the War Rooms so he could take his daily afternoon naps. Similarly, I often take 20-minute power naps around 2-3PM. And I’ve never pulled all-nighters. Thinking isn’t hard for me. Thinking is the part ‘efficient people’ [who work straight through the day] get stuck on.”
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“Is your opening bid to assume trust – to assume someone is trustworthy – and to grant them the full benefits of that? Or is your opening bid to not trust, but the trust can be earned?”
Over the past weekend, my friend shared this brilliant interview between Jim Collins and Shane Parrish at Farnam Street. The same friend who recommended this podcast that catalyzed my essay on how to think like an LP. So, needless to say, when she sent me this one, I had to tune in. I’ve been a big fan of Jim for a long time, ever since one of my favorite college professors recommended that I read Good to Great. He has an amazing talent with wordsmithing – bringing seemingly incongruous concepts together in analogous harmony. So when Jim uttered the above quote, I took my Staedtler pen and 180 g/m2 paper out.
“Have you ever considered the possibility?”
Jim also shared, “Brutal fact: Not everyone is trustworthy. And the brutal fact is that some people abuse that trust.” Some people will abuse that trust. Some people will really let you down. But that, in my opinion, as well as Bill Lazier’s – Jim Collins’ mentor, is just the cost of living. That shouldn’t change your disposition in the world, but rather illustrate how much more you should cherish the ones that are trustworthy.
Jim furthered that notion with another anecdote from his mentor, Bill. “Have you ever considered the possibility, Jim, that your opening bid affects how people behave? If you trust people, you’re more likely that they will act in a trustworthy way. So it’s a double win. It’s the best people and they’ll behave in a trustworthy way. The flip side is if you have an opening bid of mistrust, the best people will not be attracted to that. If you have an opening sense of you have to earn my trust, […] some of the best people are gonna be like ‘I don’t need to put up with that. I’ll go do something else.'”
Thinking aloud
Coincidentally, a few weekends ago, one of my good friends hosted a thought lounge. The first I’ve participated after hearing about it for a few years. The purpose of which, and I quote, “is meant to be a place where passionate people come together to practice dialogue and have meaningful conversations.” Every person brings in a topic that’s designed to spark kinetic intellectual energy that each lasts for 12 minutes. And where “creative conflict” is encouraged.
It just so happens that one of the four topics that came up that day was the law of attraction. A concept that states that similar people attract each other. And that one’s thoughts can attract similar results. The more you think you will succeed, the more likely you are to succeed. And likewise the same might be true for failing. One of my fellow participants brought up a great Henry Ford quote: “Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t – you’re right.”
And it acutely reminds me of a story I once read in Tim Ferriss’ Tribe of Mentors. Robert Rodriguez, who directed one of my childhood favorite franchises Spy Kids, shared with Tim when asked the question, “If you could have a gigantic billboard anywhere with anything on it, what would it say and why?”
“I like the idea of setting impossible challenges and, with one word, making it sound doable, because then it suddenly is. So I’d choose FÁCIL! for my billboard. It’s a good reminder that anything can be done, with relative ease and less stress, if you have the right mindset. […] Attitude comes first.”
In closing
“Is your opening bid to assume trust – to assume someone is trustworthy – and to grant them the full benefits of that?”
That’s the line I need on my fortune cookie. If one day I unwittingly become a foolhardy skeptic, I want to open up a fortune cookie after a lonely meal I’ve stuffed myself to the brim on. On a quiet late night Uber ride home, thinking I’ve eaten all I can eat… I want to read that line.
My opening bid is trust. It always has been. And I hope it always will be. I know that people have taken advantage of my kindness and trust. And I know there will be more that will in the future. But I hope I never lose the optimism in my eyes.
#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!
“I was a swimmer since I was very young and, you know, I never won. I never won.”
You’re probably assuming this is how the opening scene of a movie about a future world-champion swimmer begins. The beginning of the world’s most amazing underdog story. And you’re wrong. Well, not completely wrong. This isn’t a story about the world’s next biggest Olympic swimmer. Although it might be well-timed with the Tokyo Olympics around the corner. This… is a story, in my humble opinion, of one of the world’s next biggest venture capitalists. A story of a young Bangkok girl who became a VC from learning how to lose.
I’ve never been the smartest kid on the block. At least in the IQ department. So I make it my mission to hang out with folks who are smarter and more driven than I am. Jeep is no exception. I met her last month. And as if going from a World Bank economist to Intel leadership to startup advisor and investor to lecturing at UC Berkeley’s Haas School of Business was not enough, in our first conversation, she shared an incredible set of contrarian insights. So earlier this month, I had to jump into another conversation with her.
Something about going long
If you’re a long-time fan of this blog, you know one of my favorite Bezos-isms is, “If everything you do needs to work on a three-year time horizon, then you’re competing against a lot of people. But if you’re willing to invest on a seven-year time horizon, you’re now competing against a fraction of those people, because very few companies are willing to do that.”
Jeep is that same kind of superhuman.
“I started as a competitive swimmer since I was seven, and I swam so much and so hard, like three kilometers a day. It’s just a lot of practicing. I never even won a medal. And I kept doing it. And that was hard.
“Because other kids they got medals in different styles. So I learned early on in life what losing actually meant. And I think that’s very important because a lot of smart kids, they never learn how to fail early on in their life. And it’s kind of like a winner’s curse because you know, when they’re the best at everything, since they were young, throughout college , once they come out, and they realize that the world is hard, they are doing things or want to pursue a career that their parents cannot help them, they become risk averse. Meaning they don’t want to try new things.
“So I never won in [any] swimming competitions. Until I got into college. When I got into college, at the time I already quit swimming. I quit in high school. So, I didn’t swim competitively anymore since I didn’t have time to practice. I picked up other activities like piano, which I came to love. In college, one of my friends asked me, ‘Hey Jeep, why don’t you come back to the competition?’ And she knew I never won. We were in the same race at so many events. And I said, ‘I don’t know. Let me try.’ So I tried again.
“So I got back to the practice routine. Adjust my strokes a little bit. And then I won. I got gold and silver medals for a college swimming competition. And I was like, ‘This is a joke. How could I win?’
I never won ever, like for ten some years. And I joke with my friend, ‘You know why, because everybody else quit!’ They quit about the same age in high school.
I just went for it. And that was one of the moments in life that I realized that it’s all about grit. You do what you love and you don’t quit. There will be a moment that you win.”
The analogy extends further
“Failure is the mother of success.” It’s an ancient Chinese proverb that my mom used to tell me again and again growing up. Every time I “failed.” Scored low on a test. Embarrassed myself on stage for a school musical. Placed fourth, right off the podium for multiple competitions. It’s funny thinking about it in retrospect since she turned out to be the exact antithesis of a stereotypical Asian parent. And I love it!
Take tbh, an app where you send your friends anonymous compliments, as an example. It launched back in late 2017. 73 days after its launch, it went from zero to 2.5 million daily active users, which subsequently led to a $100M acquisition by Facebook. To many, tbh looked like an overnight success. But it wasn’t. Nikita Bier, co-founder of tbh, and his team spent seven years with 15 failed products before they arrived at tbh. And with each iteration, they learned and compounded their lessons from their previous failure.
Clubhouse’s Paul Davison and Rohan Seth is another example of a seemingly overnight success. From Talkshow to Highlight (acq. Pinterest), the pair went through at least nine failed apps before they arrive at Clubhouse – last reported to have passed 10 million users. And valued at $4 billion. Their lead investor, Andrew Chen at a16z, spent eight years getting to know Paul.
One of my junior swim teammates told me years ago when I was at my prime, “David, I don’t think I can beat you as you are now. But I promise you I will beat you one day, even if that means after you retire.” At the time, I dismissed it as just another snarky comment, which athletes are prone to make from time to time. But now that I’m a bit wiser than I was in high school, I find that same comment incredibly prescient. It just so happened that a few years ago, we raced each other again. Both of us had long exited the competitive arena, and he won.
In closing
Near the end of our conversation, Jeep cited something Soichiro Honda, the namesake for the Honda Motor Company, once said. “Success can be achieved only through repeated failure and introspection. In fact, success represents 1% of your work which results only from the 99% that is called failure. Many people dream of success. To me success can be achieved only through repeated failure and introspection. In fact, success represents 1% of your work which results only from the 99% that is called failure.”
She further elaborated, “For people who grew up in a society, in a culture that does not easily accept failure, I want them to know that it’s actually not a bad thing to try and hear rejection. But along the way, they have to make sure that they learn.
“It’s the same thing when I teach UC-Berkeley students. I told my brilliant graduate MBA students that there is, for me – and it’s true – there is no stupid question. If other people think your question is stupid, but at least you learn. If you learn, there’s no stupid question. Do not ask good questions, if it means you don’t learn anything.”
In a way, I’m reminded of a peculiar quote by Karl Popper, “Good tests kill flawed theories; we remain alive to guess again.” While Popper was known to be quite the contrarian thinker of his day, the same seems to hold for questions. Good questions kill flawed theories. We remain alive to learn again. After all, speaking from personal experience, I often find myself burning the midnight oil to ask the perfect question. But in the pursuit of asking the “perfect question”, I’ve forgone the adventures I would have had to arrive at the answer I thought I sought.
We learn when we fail. We learn, to one day succeed. The greatest are the greatest because they have a higher propensity to fail than the average person. As the great Winston Churchill said, “Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”
And as Jeep said, “Winning is actually losing, but learning along the way.”
Thanks Jeep for helping with earlier draft edits!
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I recently tuned back into Elizabeth Gilbert‘s, author of Eat Pray Love, 2016 interview with On Being. It also happens to be one of my favorite interviews about creativity and curiosity. I found myself pausing, rewinding, playing, pausing, rewinding, then playing again one line again and again.
“Everything that is interesting is 90 percent boring.”
She further elaborates, “And I think one of the reasons that both my sister and I ended up being authors is because we were taught how to do boring things for a long time. And I think that’s really important, because here is one of the grand misconceptions about creativity, and when people dream of quitting their boring job so that they can have a creative life, one of the risks of great disappointment is the realization that, ‘Oh, this is also a boring job a lot of the time.’ It’s certainly tedious. It’s a boring job I would rather do than any other boring job. It’s the most interesting boring job I’ve ever had. […]
“And we are in a culture that’s addicted to the good part, the exciting part, the fun part, the reward. But every single thing that I think is fascinating is mostly boring.”
She takes it from a perspective that everything has its boring parts. So you have to learn to accept what’s boring along with what’s interesting. I think she’s absolutely right. But while I was tuning in again to that same interview – those exact same lines – for who knows, the 20th time, I thought… maybe there’s something more. Forgive my brain for having the tendency to jump into numbers and equations. That for some reason, one of the primary ways I understand life has to be through some quantitative lens. I thought, what if we take it from an expected value perspective.
Expected value = 10% * (Utility of interesting) + 90% * (Utility of boring)
The utility we gain from boring, often times, is of course, well… boring. Some utility value less than zero. Or in other words, more often than not, we lose utility. On the other hand, the utility we gain from interesting is positive. So, then it becomes a balancing act between what’s interesting and what’s boring. That in the decision to pursue something interesting, there might be the below subconscious calculus:
10% * (Utility of interesting) > 90% * (Utility of boring)
To shine a different light, is the interesting part interesting enough that it outweighs all of the boring parts combined, and ideally, more?
Take, for instance, writing for me. I love writing. It’s meditative. Thought-provoking. And it’s challenging. But at the same time, editing, filling in the keywords for SEO, finding a cover image, all the way to writing when I don’t feel inspired, but I do so to commit to a weekly routine is tedious.
Similarly, Gilbert uses the example of raising children. “Raising children — I’m not a mother, but I’m a stepmother, I’m a grandmother, I’m a godmother, I’m an aunt, and I know that 90 percent of — especially, being with very small children…
“Incredibly — it’s hard. And then there’s the moment where you realize, ‘Oh, my God, this is a spark of creation that I’m working with, and this is magic, and this is life seen through new eyes.’ And creativity is the same, where 90 percent of the work is quite tedious. And if you can stick through those parts — not rush through the experiences of life that have the most possibility of transforming you, but to stay with it until the moment of transformation comes and then through that, to the other side — then, very interesting things will start to happen within very boring frameworks.”
For many of this blog’s readers, it’s starting a business. Whether you’re changing the world or the people you care the most about, that mission is what drives you. That’s what makes it interesting. And every time you hit a milestone –
Your first user outside of your friends and family,
Rated #1 on Product Hunt,
One of your customers writes a handwritten love letter to you and your team about how you saved her family,
You finally have enough revenue to pay your team members who’ve been working with you for free for two years,
$1M in ARR,
50,000 users,
You reach profitability,
Your dream investor says yes,
A Fortune 500 business offers you 9 figures for your business,
And the list goes on and on.
… it’s exciting! But let’s be honest, not every day will be sunshine and rainbows. 90% of your days will be tedious. Some percent of those days or weeks might even suck! 90% of your days will be you working to find and reach that 10%. And if that 10% is just that amazing, it’ll make that 90% worth it.
In a sense, it’s like the Pareto Principle. 80% of your utility will come from 20% of your achievements. That star 20% – your customer love letters, providing employment for all your team members during the tough days of COVID.
In an analogous mental model, in everything that is boring, there might be a small percentage that makes it interesting. Now I’m really curious as to what I might discover here.
#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!
I’ve been this self-proclaimed “few screws loose” for a while. Rationally, what I do, it doesn’t always make sense. But in their post-mortems, my adventures often turn out to be invaluable lessons of growth. The month of March was no exception.
It all started with someone who reached out to tell me I didn’t know what I was talking about. And subsequently, that I should stop writing. It certainly wasn’t the first, but definitely the most direct one to date. I saw where he was coming from. I’d never personally taken an idea from inception to scale, much less exit. On the venture side, I’m a scout, and well that means, I don’t personally invest in many deals, if at all.
At the same time, it’s not like I didn’t expect such a comment. As a content creator, even an amateur one, I’m putting myself out there. And in doing so, I’m opening myself up to criticism. This, well, just the first of many more to come. In fact, I’ve alluded to it before. As Jeff Bezos once said, “If you can’t tolerate critics, don’t do anything new or interesting.” Now before I make myself seem smarter than I actually am by appealing to authority, I’m not. Simply, I believe their few words profoundly summarize what might take me an essay to convey.
In writing weekly content, and subsequently, doing my homework to write the best I can on any given topic, I give off the illusion that I’m smarter than I actually am. And every once in a while, I fall victim to using esoteric phrases. Like I could say the same statement above as: I give off the illusion that I have a larger repository of information than I have. But I do so because sometimes I really, really like the phrasing I come up with or come across. It’s more of a personal fulfillment than a misleading façade.
Like I’ve mentionedbefore… I write to think. An unrefined concept that through the process of writing, I come to a more robust understanding. But let’s be honest, it’s not all up and to the right. It’s a rollercoaster. I love how Packy McCormick, who authors Not Boring, described his own writing process.
After all, mine doesn’t fall too far from the apple tree. But I digress. That one message led me down a path to jump on phone calls with other folks who found my content or myself to be disagreeable. Some more perverse and antagonistic than others. Five people total. Four who had just fallen on a series of unfortunate events. Two of which just wanted to be heard. The other two seeking advice and feedback. And last who seemed to find power through berating me for 20 straight minutes. One other who has yet to respond.
Why? I’ve known for a while that I’m terrible at having tough conversations. Some of my friends might know from personal experience. A number of other founders who’ve been on the receiving end of my inability to say “No”. Especially when I first began in venture.
I thought that maybe – just maybe – if I go to the more extreme end of the spectrum, I might get better at giving others the respect and time they deserve. While I’m not sure if the five conversations have helped me mature, they made me a better listener.
When two broke down during our short call, what they needed wasn’t advice or feedback or someone to tell them everything was going to be alright. They just wanted someone to listen. Just listen. Given my personality, I was constantly tempted to respond. To give advice. And to ease the “awkward silence.” But it wasn’t awkward at all. My inability to recognize the sanctity of silence made it awkward.
For the two other founders, they sought feedback since no investor they chatted with so far gave them any constructive ones. I couldn’t promise connections nor capital. All I could promise was my own radical candor. And they were free to do with it as they saw fit. So I spent 10-15 minutes with each, listening to their pitch. No questions in between. My thoughts only chronicled on a 5×8 notepad in front of me. And only after they’d concluded, I would share my thoughts.
The last one, frankly, there was nothing I could do or say that would have changed his mind. And rather than trying to, which would only reinforce his belief, the best I could do was stay silent and occasionally smile.
I’m reminded once again of a line someone I deeply respect once told me, “The quality of communication is measured by not how much comes out of your mouth, but by how much reaches the other person’s ear.” And another, “We have two ears and one mouth; we should use them in that proportion.”
And I am still working on it. I have a long road ahead, but I’m positive if I keep the above lessons in mind, I’ll go further faster.
#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!
Last week, I reconnected with Shuo, founding partner of IOVC, and one of the first people I reached out to when I began my career in venture. That day, I asked her a pretty stupid question, “Given the rise of solo capitalists, rolling funds, equity crowdfunding, and the democratization of capital, do you think now’s a good time to raise a fund?“
She replied, “I don’t know. It could be a good time now. It could be a good time five years from now. If you’re set on sticking around for the long term, it really doesn’t matter. ‘Cause whether it’s a good time or not, you’re going to be raising a fund regardless. So just do it.”
Not gonna lie, it was serious wake-up call. While I was initially looking for her perspective on the changing venture market, what she said was right. If you’re set on doing something, say starting a fund or a business, the “right time” to start is irrelevant. The world around us changes so much so frequently. We only know when’s the right time in hindsight. So focus on what we can control. Which is starting and doing.
So as an aspiring founder, which idea do you start with? And how do you test it?
Starting a business is scary
Starting a business is scary for most people. And well, the government doesn’t always make it easy to do so. Just like what WordPress and Squarespace did for websites, you have companies, like Stripe (and their Stripe Atlas), Square, Shopify, Kickstarter, just to name a few, streamlining the whole process for entrepreneurship. For an aspiring entrepreneur, not only is it taking that leap of faith, before you begin, there’s a slew of things you have to worry about:
Figure out how to incorporate your business (C-corp, LLC, or S-corp),
Assign directors and officers to your business,
Buy the stock, so you actually own your stock,
Learn to file your taxes (multiple forms, including your 83(b) election),
When you raise funding, get a 409A valuation,
And that’s just the beginning.
Of course for the above, do consult with your professional lawyer and accountant. It’s two of the few startup expenses I really recommend not skimping on. While the purpose of this post isn’t designed to solve all the documents you’ll have to go through in starting a business, hopefully, this will help with one front – taking that leap of faith. Specifically finding early validation for your idea.
You can test the validity of an idea faster by writing than with code.
Writing well trains your ability to sell.
Publishing regularly gets you comfortable with shipping early and often.
To which he cited one of my favorite Reid-isms: “If you’re not embarrassed by the first version of your product, you’ve launched too late.” – Reid Hoffman
Writing is easier for most people to pick up than coding.
There’s a “5th reason” as well, but I’ll let you uncover that yourself. Talk about creativity. Side note. Max created one of my favorite personal websites to date.
Much like Max, I write to think. And in sharing my raw thoughts outside of the world of startups via the #unfiltered series, often far from perfect, as well as my take in this fast-changing universe, my cadence of writing twice a week has forced my brain to be accustomed to the velocity of growth. In the sense, I better be learning and fact-checking my growth week over week. Over time, I’ve developed my own mental model of finding idea and content catalysts.
Of course, if you know me, I just had to reach out. Particularly around the third point in his tweetstorm.
3. Publishing regularly gets you comfortable with shipping early and often.
"If you're not embarrassed by the first version of your product, you've launched too late." —@reidhoffman
I'm embarrassed about pretty much everything I write. But less embarrassed with each piece.
What mental models or practices did he use to help him wrestle with his embarrassment from his own writing? And he replied with two loci that provided so much more context:
“Reading other writers who open up way more than I do, which makes what I’m doing feel easy by comparison. Two favorites I’d recommend are Haley Nahman and Ava from Bookbear Express.”
And another I binged for an hour last night. Talk about counterintuitive lessons. My favorites so far are Stephen’s 12th and 16th issue. You might not agree with everything, but he really does challenge your thinking. Thank you Max for the rec.
“Publicly committing to writing weekly and finding that the embarrassment of publishing was outweighed by the embarrassment I’d feel if I missed a week. Also, like all things, I’ve found it very much gets easier with practice.”
Why not both?
Then again, why not both? I go back to Guillaume‘s, founder of lemlist, recent LinkedIn post. He says:
And he’s completely right. If I were to analogize…
Writer = common Writer + coder = uncommon And… writer + coder + X = holy grail
You don’t have to own one unique skill. And in this day in age, there aren’t that many individually unique skills out there that haven’t been ‘discovered’ yet. Rather than search for the singularly unique skill that you can acquire, I’d place a larger bet on a combination of skill sets that can make you unique. As a founder, test your ideas early with writing. If there’s evidence of it sticking, build it with code. And it doesn’t just to be just writing and code, whatever set of skills you can acquire more quickly and deeper with the circumstances and experiences you have. Even better if there’s a positive flywheel effect between your skills.
In closing
There’s a Chinese proverb that goes something along the lines of, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.” And it circles back to Reid’s quote that Max cited, “If you’re not embarrassed by the first version of your product, you’ve launched too late.” As an entrepreneur, or as an emerging fund manager, it’s a given you’re going to mess things up. But all the time fretting around at the starting line is time better spent stumbling and standing back up.
I followed up with Shuo after our call, and she elaborated a bit more, “In all honesty, you can argue now is a good time (a lot of capital available for good managers) or a bad time (valuations are frothy), but in the long-term, these variables even out and it’s how you add value as an investor that’s most important.”
If I were to liken that same insight to aspiring entrepreneurs… Yes, investors look for timing. And yes, understanding the timing of the market is important, when you’re launching a product that will revolutionize the way we live in a fundamental way. But that boils down to which idea you plan to pursue. But if you’re looking to be a founder, it’s finding that overlap in the 3-way Venn diagram between (1) what the market needs and (2) where you, as the founder, can provide the most value. And (3) where your competitors are not maximizing their potential in.
For many aspiring founders, that first step can be practicing the art of writing. Writing for clarity. Writing to practice selling. Learning to ship early and embracing imperfection. Frankly, it’s also something I need to get better at myself.
Though I’m not a religious fellow, I’m reminded of a quote from Jesus’ teaching, which I first found in Jerry Colonna’s book, Reboot. “If you bring forth what is in you, what is in you will save you. If you do not bring forth what is in you, what is in you will destroy you.” Writing is that act of bringing forth what is in you. And well, if you’re like me, I often find my greatest regrets come from a lack of action rather than in taking action.
Thank you Shuo and Max for reviewing early drafts of this essay.
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!
Not long ago, there was this massive TikTok craze on sea shanties. And while I don’t have a TikTok account, the ripple effects have reached me as well. What started as a shower thought after a founder recommended I gamify my advice to founders fundraising, well… turned into this. To the tune of Soon May the Wellerman Come:
There once was a team that put to sea The name of that team was Friends ‘N Me The winds blew hard, but growth tipped up O’, burn that midnight oil (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
She had not been two years from start When push became the pull we sought The founder called all hands and wrought The product to scale now (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
The servers’ now a right real mess We had to call the AWS They had us pay for more bandwidth But that’s okay with us (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
We’ve tripled our growth last year, oh yus With dollar retention as one cause When we were asked what it was We said ’twas one twenty (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
We’ve ten cust’mers that five of which Are referenceable you’ll find on pitch That one of which is kinda rich They’re paying hundy K (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
#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!
