How Do We Welcome the Founder Narratives Behind the Curtains

Being a founder is one of the toughest jobs in the world. Resilience and grit are two (or one) of the indispensable traits of a 5-star entrepreneur. And most, if not all, investors establish grit as the baseline in founder selection, as opposed to the topline in various other careers. While I don’t mean to discount other career paths, all of which I have incredible admiration for, I can only speak in the world of venture where I spend most of my time in.

Yet that same persistence could very much be the same double-edged sword that makes or breaks you. In October, Ryan Caldbeck wrote about his decision to step down as CEO of CircleUp. It was and is one of the most candid pieces I’ve read about the founder journey to date. In it, one section particularly stood out. “Persistence was my superpower. But now I’ve now come to understand that persistence is a double-edged sword, and my decision not to take a break, to not take more off my plate, hurt me, my family and the company. That was the biggest mistake of my career.”

In the founder journey, there exist many moments a founder’s resilience is stress-tested. To get their first customer. To scale to a team of 10. 30. 100. To get their first investor. To raise their first institutional round. But the last thing a founding team needs is for some of their greatest evangelists – their investors – to create counterproductive friction. While it’s presumptuous of me to say that all friction is counterproductive, some friction and additional perspective is necessary to help founders make better, more informed decisions.

In his same essay, Ryan shares a feedback email he wrote to his former board member, as that member’s participation in the company had become “counterproductive”, “vindictive”, and even “destructive”. Unfortunately, these stories happen more often than I would like. It is why many founders believe investors are the gatekeepers to their startup’s success. But we’re not. We don’t have the right to be. On the same token, that’s exactly why it’s so important for founders to deeply consider founder-investor fit.

Michael Freeman found in 2017 that entrepreneurs are 50% more likely to report a mental health condition. Being a founder is lonely. But it doesn’t have to be.

Anton Ego’s words

A few weekends back, my friend and I re-watched my favorite movie. And as the movie faded into music, Anton Ego’s words echoed in my head. While it’s not the first time this quote has appeared in the venture world, it certainly won’t be the last:

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends.

“Last night, I experienced something new, an extra-ordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau’s famous motto: ‘Anyone can cook.’ But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau’s, who is, in this critic’s opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau’s soon, hungry for more.”

For VCs

One of my favorite investors often says, “stay positive, test negative.” While the greatest strength an entrepreneur can have may be grit, the greatest strength an investor can have is optimism.

Optimism in the world. In markets. In startups. But especially people. That even if one venture doesn’t work out, for the people I’ve had the opportunity to stand behind, I know one of their pursuits eventually will. It’s only a matter of time and luck.

That same optimism is a leading indicator for open-mindedness. As people who build our careers at the top of the funnel, it is our obligation to cast our net outside of what is most familiar to us. There will be a number of ideas and belief systems entrepreneurs have that challenge our own. And in many ways they should, as founders are on the frontlines of innovation, they are aiming to be “right on the non-consensus“, to quote Andy Rachleff. When I first got into VC, that same investor who said “stay positive, test negative”, shared another word of advice, “Some of the best ideas seem crazy at first.

George Bernard Shaw once said something similar as well, “The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”

Optimism isn’t only isolated to ideas, but also to the people – the “unreasonable” women and men – behind those ideas and the decisions they make. These innovators aren’t perfect, yet somehow many of us expect them to be. And that dichotomy has created this unfair dynamic that stunts innovation more than we think. I have so much respect for the funds that have set aside capital to invest in founders’ wellbeing, like Felicis Ventures, Freestyle, Crosscut, and more. And I hope many more will follow.

The stories we tell

Over the past few months, I’ve had a number of conversations with founders, friends, and readers about “mental fitness” and “emotional hygiene”. If I could borrow two of my friends’ vernacular. And I’ve learned that we humans are such amazing storytellers.

These powerful narratives has kept the human race alive all these millennia. Before the written word, it was the art of the spoken word, passed down from generation to generation, that held tales of ancestral origins of where to hunt and where to migrate to each season. The same stories have started and ended wars. They have helped us conquer impossible odds. Some narratives today are compelling enough for us to buy a new product or to end a conglomerate.

Yet these exact stories, especially the ones we tell ourselves, can cause stress, anxiety, and depression. The ones that the people we care about and respect tell us can carry even more weight. From role models, parents, managers, friends, mentors, teachers, peers, and more.

In closing

I realized, in conversation, these past few autumn months, more than ever, the power of sharing those stories. To share that we’re not alone and that together, we may learn more than the sum of our individual parts. I understand that it’s no easy task. Even for myself, I debated for the longest time whether to share that I’m not at my best right now. But I’m glad I did. The feedback from the people around me I’ve gotten since brought forth clarity and solace. Similarly, six of my friends, who publicly shared how they get through their toughest times (Pt 1, Pt 2), told me after how grateful they were to have an enormous weight lifted off their shoulders.

Top photo by Nong Vang on Unsplash


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