Meriam-Webster defines texture as “the visual or tactile surface characteristics and appearance of something” or “the disposition or manner of union of the particles of a body or substance.”
A more interesting definition, at least on the tactile front, might be the resistance you feel when your skin brushes against a substance. The friction you feel. The subsequent expressions of rough or smooth follow the amount of friction you experience.
“The more you remember, the more you will feel you have lived. I can’t vividly remember the details of more than a couple beach vacations, because they all blend together. But I vividly remember a night out in Tokyo at a tiny bar with my friend Joe, the first time I skinned up a mountain in Colorado, the longest run I ever took in the rolling hills of Tuscany, and getting lost in the streets of Kyoto with my daughter. The experiences I remember most are those that had texture — some sort of surprise or hardship that implanted them in my brain. These experiences create “core memories” that remain distinct and persistent, no technology required. My thesis on the future of humanity is that we will optimize for more of the experiences we’ll never forget. We will seek activities with texture to create memories that grip. And when we look back, the more of these textured memories we have, the longer we will feel we have lived.”
In a similar way, the ‘texture’ of life includes the moments we most struggled. And in the physical and metaphoric definition of ‘texture,’ leaves us scar tissue that protect our body from future similar experiences. It’s hard to recall the vivid details of life when it was all smooth sailing, but near impossible to forget our greatest character-building moments.
I’m a big believer that theses are the same. A product of our past experiences. And the restrictions we place on ourselves are a function of that. So regardless if an investment thesis is specialist or generalist, what I find more interesting are areas a GP chooses not to invest in, which include what they have never invested in, or have and will never again. Even more interestingly, assuming one only had the chance to interpret the “visual” nature of the thesis, what are the types of investments most people would think falls under a GP’s thesis, but a GP still will not invest in? The latter of which is the “tactile” nature of a thesis. The contact sport. That unless you interact directly with the GP, it is hard to tell.
Oftentimes, the GP may have more boundaries for themselves than we as LPs place on them. And that is always worth digging into.
The texture of the thesis.
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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.
So, this is the first blogpost I’m cross-posting from my brand new Substack, Superclusters After Hours. Don’t worry, I’ll still write here weekly. This blog has always started as a personal blog. I write about what I want to write about on a weekly basis. Sometimes, it’s about venture. Other times, it’s about food, adventure, and random things I think about. The goal of the new blog is to become the primary catalog and archive for ephemeral LP content that I post on LinkedIn, with event invites whenever I do them. Events, for those of you reading this blog and know me, I have almost never publicized them before or after the event. And it’ll continue to stay that way. But I’m going to start playing around with the idea of doing Superclusters-only webinars with a very strict rule of confidentiality. TBD.
Here’s a question I got from a GP recently, which to be fair, took me much longer than I initially intended to respond to.
To the GP who sent this to me, and I know you’re reading this, thank you. It’s a great question. And one I’ve heard frustrate many a good GP out there.
So I’m going to include below what I wrote to that GP — word for word. So apologizing ahead of time for typos and grammatical errors.
Ok, this is an awesome question! Took some time here so I could better process my answer for you. Apologize for the delay and ramble ahead of time.
So I think there are 2 questions here: (a) how do you stand out as a GP who actually has deal flow when everyone claims they do, and (b) in a broader scope, how do LPs diligence deal flow?
I’ll start with the former.
(a) How can you prove to LPs you have deal flow that’s different/better than others?
So first off, most people say the same thing: “I get deal flow from founders in my network and co-investors.” But if everyone says that than even if it’s true, how does yours look any different? The truth is most LPs don’t know either. And in some ways, it might be easier to guide LPs how to think, that not only helps them diligence your fund, but also makes them a better LP, period. Keep in mind, most LPs cover a wide variety of asset classes and venture, much less emerging managers, is the smallest of the smallest chunk. And so they don’t have the incentive or the experience to really dedicate all their time to try to figure out how to better underwrite venture.
It’s similar to a question a friend of mine recently asked me. My friend is someone who eats to live (as opposed to lives to eat. Yes, those people exist in the world). And recently he found himself in love with someone who loves to eat, and by function of that, lives to eat. And so he asked me, despite having eaten at a bunch of restaurants, “how do I know which fine dining restaurant to bring his girlfriend to for their 6-month anniversary?” And I gave him a whole list of things I look for when it comes to picking restaurants. For instance, reading Google and Yelp reviews, but specifically the 3 and 4-star ones, not the 5- or 1-star ones because they’re so biased. And on top of that, I gave him recs of date-ish things to do pre- and post-dinner as well based on proximity to the restaurant. I also told him in the reservation to ask for a 10-15 minute kitchen tour after the dinner as an extra special experience. And after giving him all of that, he stares blankly at me. Not because he didn’t hear or understand what I told him, but because, really, he was just looking for a name. One name. He would then book it, and move on with his life. Because food, for him, was and is not his focus area. He had other “more important” things to focus on in his life and in the relationship.
Similarly, most LPs are the same when they look at venture. They do it because they need to think about total portfolio allocation or the David Swenson model, but they don’t do it because they love it or that they believe in it. And so they need to know a name, and that’s all they need.
So to get off my preamble, assuming that an LP has committed in their mind to spend time and do the work in emerging manager land, then you proceed with the next step. And unfortunately, most won’t. And that’s okay. They’re just not the right fit for you now.
So, the next step is really to guide them. One thing I’ve found to be helpful (if you have it) is to take your strongest few co-investors that you think you have the best relationship with, and ask the LP, “Let’s take X firm. What are the best investments they made in the last 12 months, say by revenue growth or headcount growth? And I will tell you if I saw them before they made their investment and who shared it with me.”
Conversely, you should look at who else you know well in their existing portfolio, and have them vouch for you and the type of deals you see. Also potentially more importantly, the kind of person you are. The strongest co-signs are often GPs in their existing portfolio and institutional LPs that specialize in venture that they’re really close to.
Another thing I’ve seen a GP do (paraphrasing here): “I’m going to give you a list of folks who send me deals, short list, and I can give you a longer one if you’d like. And I haven’t told them you’re going to call, so please use your best judgment when asking for their time. But ask them how many other VCs they passed the last 5 deals they shared with VCs to? If they’re doing their job right, they’ll likely pass to more than one. But see if my name comes up. If it doesn’t, you have your answer. If it does, you have your answer.”
Going a step further, and I don’t think I’ve seen any GP do this yet, but I feel like it should be more of a thing: Take all the deals you’ve gotten from your “network” (i.e. founders, investors, etc), and segment them by, who sent you a deal because:
You co-invested with them in the past
You invested in them
You didn’t invest in them (compliment to an investor to get strong deal flow from someone they passed on) – anti-portfolio, but keep in mind this only matters, if the people you receive it from are successful founders in the eyes of an LP, maybe you asterisk these
You had no prior economic relationship with them
You used to work with them
They’re a fan of you/your content/etc
I’m sure there are other segmentations, but you get the gist.
And in addition to that, when you pass on a deal that someone refers, categorize the deal into why it’s a pass:
Not a strong founder
Too expensive, but good founder
Good founder, but not in sector/thesis
Not raising at the time
And all the above you would show to an investor and I think should be a good snapshot as to the quality of your deals. Then if you’re comfortable with them, challenge them to try the same exercise with other investors. Part of proving something to an LP is to help them become a better investor, period. Whether they invest or not.
(b) How do LPs diligence deal flow?
The simple answer is: they do references. In terms of how many, I’ve heard everything from 3 to 40. The highest end being Cendana. Most institutions
For those that do 5 or less, primarily either use an oCIO/RIA (i.e. Cambridge, Stepstone, Hamilton Lane, some kind of MFO, etc.) or they primarily bet on firms that are hard to get but also won’t get them fired, largely because they don’t just have the time/resources/team members to specifically underwrite emerging managers in venture. Because of the optimization of “I need to see ‘everything’” and I don’t have the time to go deep and assuming they choose to do (in some parts) their own work, they:
(i) talk to a lot of spinouts ‘cause easier to reference and draft a memo to get buy in
(ii) talk on stage at conferences with the perception that they are open for business, which they technically are, but very selective
(iii) have you go through really long ODDs and DDQs in front of a (large) panel of stakeholders and decision makers in the organization. Ranges for 3 to 20-something people all listening to you answering questions. At that point, it’s your word against your word, but a committee will nitpick on everything. The upside is that it’s easier to share something you do that you’re 1 in 5 or 1 in 10 who do (as opposed to FoFs and venture-focused MFOs or institutions who need you to be 1 in 100 or 1 in 1000). The downside is you need to appeal to a larger group of people, and it takes more time outside of meetings (up to 350 question ODD).
But I digress. For the purpose of your question of your question and what I believe your frustration might be, I’m going to focus on diligencing deal flow when you’re not in the room. Assuming it’s an LP who is actually intentional about diligence AND is open-minded enough to not bring too many of their own biases in…
On-list
Founders: sticking to the facts. How did you meet the GP? What did you talk about in the first meeting? How long did they take before they committed? What questions were asked? Did other VCs ask the same questions? How competitive was the round? If you offered any special terms, why and who else did you offer it to? Did they all take it? Have you introed any other founders or people to the GP? Has the GP provided you value post-investment?
Co-investors: Who gives you the best quality of deals? Intro to meeting ratio? Meeting to diligence ratio? Meeting to commitment ratio? How does this GP stack rank against other relationships/other verticals? Did the emerging GP intro you to the deal you’re co-investors in?
LPs: How many other firms of a similar strategy did you talk to? What were the sourcing strategies for the other firms? Compare and contrast.
Former employers/misc: deal flow isn’t really diligenced here. The best thing these folks can attest to is your character + network.
Off-list (a lot of off-list is done with people who, in the words of an LP, “owe you [the LP] more favors than they owe the GP”)
Founders: Rank your favorite investors on the cap table. Who are your top 3? Why? If you were to start a new co, who would you take with you again?
Co-investors: How much signal is a deal if that GP sends it to you? Compare with other GPs. Why?
LPs: Have you gotten co-investments from the GP? How is their level of communication post-investment?
Others: Same as above.
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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.
A number of investors I’ve had conversations with recently used the word “spiky” to describe their investments and investment prospects. Both VCs who described founders that way and LPs who described GPs that way. With the latter, I want to caveat that these LPs were fund-of-funds and smaller family offices. The investment profile of a larger LP may look quite different given the incentives of the organization. But I digress.
What is “spiky?” Spiky, or ‘spikey’ (I’ll let you decide what your preferred spelling is), is an adjective used to describe someone who has a few traits that excel quite extremely. Not many, just a few. The implicit understanding is that sometimes they can be poorly proficient in many other areas. For example, you can be the world’s greatest AI researcher, but not know how to make scrambled eggs or cook at all for yourself. But in the areas where an individual is “spiky” in, they are in the world’s top 0.01% with very little other competition.
I’m also personally a big believer, that you really do have to be in at least the top 0.1% on something if you want to have a chance at top decile (10%) returns because by order of you needing to take on other responsibilities in a company and/or firm where you might not spike in those as much, your overall “spikiness” slips two decimal points. So, as an LP who aims for top decile minimum, I look for people who would be 1 in 1000. An a startup investor/VC, to bet on the 100Xers, the top 1% per say, you need to find people who have 1 in 10,000. Metaphorically speaking, the bar is higher since you’re less diversified compared to LPs.
So if that’s spiky, what is “lumpy?” You’re better than others in many areas. Potentially most areas. If 3.0 was the grade point average of your competition, you’re a 3.5 or 4.0. Numerically better, but you don’t particularly excel in any particular area. Or at least not in ways that make you an N of 1.
In emerging GP land, there are a lot of ‘lumpy’ people. Investors who are probably already in the top quartile, even top decile of the human population. To have the ambition, the track record, the network, and the wherewithal to start a fund requires a certain state of privilege, luck and effort that most can’t afford or have. They have just enough to be better, but not enough to be the best. These are, at least for me, the hardest people to say no to (assuming they’re good people). They’re people that I’ve described to other allocators (when they do diligence) as “good human beings” and “people I really enjoy hanging out with.” All true statements, by the way.
But even for spiky people, is their differentiator enough to create portfolio divergence? Sometimes, it doesn’t. Arguably, oftentimes, it doesn’t. Then the question becomes is their portfolio converging with others to a point where there’s still alpha? And for the (established) firms they’re converging with, (a) will they continue to converge (i.e. will the other firm(s) always want this investor around for their spikiness?), and (b) are the other (established) firm(s) best days ahead of them or behind them?
Expectedly so, you are now underwriting the other firm(s) as well.
I wish it were an easy judgment call, but it isn’t. And I’m likely to be wrong more often than I’m right. As most of us will be.
Then, there are people who are “smooth.” Some may call them generalists. Others may say well-rounded. And while both can be true, in a world of attention scarcity, whether in the mind of founders or co-investors or other LPs, you need to stand for something. And “smooth” people are easily forgotten. We don’t talk about them much because we forget about them.
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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.
There’s been this term that’s been thrown around as of late. By GPs. Funnily enough, not by a single LP so far. The “AI-native” venture firm.
Somehow everyone seems to think they’re the only ones doing so. But they’re not. While not everyone approaches it in the same way—and the definitions do get muddled a little—there is a growing audience of GPs building a firm leveraging agentic tools.
So, inspired by a recent conversation with my man Arkady, here’s me offering my definition of what an AI-native VC firm is. It’s a set of workflows that even the large incumbents cannot replicate by adding more people to the problem, despite the fees they draw. It’s where technology is at the core of the firm, as opposed to humans. It’s where experience actually becomes an inhibitor to investment innovation. Call it the legacy tax. Or experience tax. Or as Bret Taylor puts it, the strategy tax.
In a recent Uncapped episode, Sierra‘s Bret Taylor put it this way when speaking of SaaS business models. “In these moments of big platform shifts, what were your strengths can become weaknesses. […] You start to say that ‘Well, I don’t want to just start from scratch. We’ve got all these assets. So how do we do it in a way that takes advantage of all of our assets.’ And so all of a sudden, you’re like, ‘Let’s not just build a great product. Let’s transition from this product to that product.’ […] ‘That’s our strength, we should play to our strength.’ And you start to basically make all these decisions that sound sound very clever because you’re playing to your strengths. And in practice, if the technology wave is bigger than the category, which I think the web was as an example, you end up chipping away at doing a pure play value proposition.
“It can also work with business models though. In that time, you have perpetual license software and moving to software-as-a-service, that’s a huge change for a business to make. For your customers, that goes from being CapEx to OpEx. For you as a company, it changes ratable revenue. Shantanu did this at Adobe. Very few companies can make that transition. You have to sell it differently. You have to compensate salespeople differently. Revenue recognition is different. So you have the product strategy tax. You have the business model strategy tax. You have even the incentives of sales people—there’s a strategy tax. […] All the advantages that you had, all of a sudden, become anchors that are holding you back from doing the right thing.”
But I’m probably not the only one that can see the transposition of venture models on this analogy of SaaS models. I’ve also been in a few rooms where LPs are starting to slow to halt their pacing into investing in AI companies and funds. If so many of these products can be built overnight with Opus/Cowork, Codex, Cursor, Replit, Base44, Emergent, OpenClaw (and all of its clones in the last 2 weeks) and the list goes on, how many of these application layer AI companies will be stripped of their value almost immediately. And likely, in one month’s time from writing this piece (if not within the next few weeks), the list may already be obsolete.
In fact, I was catching with my LP friend (who’s not technical) last week and he used one of the above tools to build a portfolio management tool in two hours that has more functionality than what I’ve seen from companies trying to solve the exact same problem who’ve raised up to 9-figures. And I wish I could say I was joking. He told me, “Tools for us have historically been limited by the marriage of domain expertise and technical expertise. Most of us didn’t have both. But with these tools, they solve the technical expertise part, which empowers domain experts to build their own tools. So why bother paying for any other tool that doesn’t have the same depth of data that I’ve accumulated across decades?”
Henry Ford has that line many of you are probably aware of, “If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.” Most investors—big and small, multi-stage and emerging, generalist and specialist, solo GP or partnerships—are building faster horses.
So an AI-native firm has to reimagine the way the venture business is done. That isn’t an AI-written memo. That’s not just an agent strapped onto a data scraper. Assume everyone at some point can discover and find every company out there. Today’s firms who claim being AI-native (in my anecdotal experience) are highly focused on sourcing. What pools of data aren’t actively being collected now that software can relentless dig into. Today’s firms aided by AI are leveraging tools to make more informed investment decisions. The picking. It still requires, for the most part, a human in the mix to make the final call. There are very, very few, arguably no one, truly leveraging AI nativity to win deals.
In venture, there used to be the classic question VCs would often ask founders: “What’s stopping Google from what you’re doing?” Now it’s “Why can’t OpenAI or Anthropic just do what you do?” Analogously, why can’t a16z or GC do what you do? Historically, the answer, if there is a good one, is tied down to:
Business model and portfolio construction, which is still a valid point if you plan to stay as a first check purist.
Or, it’s come down to the person. You have lived experience that no one else does in cybersecurity or leading healthcare systems. You have privileged relationships no one else has. You’ve built communities that are centered around you as the central node. It’s usually been a “people” answer.
But with AI-native firms, the answer must be technological. Even if large firms were empowered with the idea, why will they still fail in the technological implementation of it? Why can’t these large multi-stage funds:
… “see” the volume you do? Are you pulling data from non-obvious hubs or non-public datasets? How defensible is it in the longer term?
underwrite deals at an earlier stage like you do? Are you doing diligence at scale? How do you get the “truth” from sources that other firms powered primarily by human capital cannot?
provide the portfolio value (at scale) like you do? Do you give your portfolio companies access to the same systems you’ve built? Can they leverage your tools to empower their customers and/or talent?
provide the same liquidity opportunities to LPs at a predictable pace like you can? Not sure if agentic software will be good enough here for now, given how much humans themselves are still figuring this out. But a goalpost for some visible future.
provide their co-investors with the same value as you can? This one might be hard. There’s always the balance of what is unique to you versus unique to others. The more you share, potentially, the less of an edge you’ll have. But my stance has always been, if access to certain analyses or information will be inevitable at some point, it’s better to be the rising tide that raises all ships than the last drop of rainwater in the ocean.
provide LPs with the same depth and/or breadth of value like you do? This last one is probably not something any AI-native firm I’ve talked to is focused on, but given that all venture firms are marketplaces at the end of the day, answering this question would be extremely powerful.
I’m not saying that’s the only way to do business. That’s not the only way to invest. I’m confident that even when GPT 15.0 and “Opus” 9.4 comes out, there will still be firms that operate primarily around a core set of individuals as opposed to technologies. We have mass-produced cars, but there is still a great demand for hand-crafted luxury vehicles. The same is true for fashion and accessories. So yes, there will still be a world even if they’re not the largest players by market cap where people prefer the luxury of the human touch.
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.
It’s a great talk. And I highly recommend you check it out even if you don’t work in the creative industries.
We’ve seen writer strikes in Hollywood as well as a proliferation of AI use cases in creative industries. James Cameron joined the board of Stability AI. The Russo brothers behind Marvel’s superhero sequel prowess have created their own AI studio. Pouya Shahbazian as well, using AI over the next four years to create 30 AI-generated films. The list goes on. As such, the question of “Is AI art?” is an interesting one to answer. And admittedly, harkens to a series of conversations I’ve had with allocators on leveraging AI in investing practices.
From the VC/GP side, there are folks like Yohei, Sarah, and Ben and Matt, just to name a few who’ve all been building and incorporating AI recently into their workflows and deal flow pipelines. Yes, I know I’m missing a lot more names. But you get the point. From the LP side, progress is still slower, but many younger LPs are quickly adopting AI as well. The conversations I’ve had come from senior allocators on whether it makes sense to use AI. And if so, how much?
Which begs the question: If AI can do your job, do you still have a job?
I was at a dinner last year where the CIO of a large endowment shared that the reason she knows what to look for in managers today, how to underwrite funds, and how to build a venture portfolio was due to the fact she made a plethora of mistakes on her way up the allocator ladder. Small mistakes, like mixing up a decimal on the spreadsheet which led to a venture fund needing a $10B outcome instead of a $1B outcome. Or like Jamie Rhode once said on Superclusters, that she failed to check before she made a commitment to a fund if the fund actually had the commitments that the GP advertised, leading to her check being a larger proportion of the final fund size than she anticipated.
A lot of senior leaders in the LP space seem to be quite skeptical of what AI can do for investment decisions in its current state, yet junior team members seem to widely adopt it to write memos, to inform investment decisions, to create portfolio construction models, and so on. And so far, there’s been a general consensus that AI, at least with respect to investment decision-making, has yet to reach its desired state. In one comment at the same dinner, a senior allocator remarked that one of her direct reports submitted a fund construction model that was built via AI and suggested that in order to return the fund, they needed almost a quarter of the companies to become unicorns. And when questioned, the junior allocator saw nothing wrong with the model. Only to further defend their choice. Or as Brandon Sanderson says in the talk, the problem with AI “is because they steal the opportunity for growth from us.”
“The process of creating art makes art of you. My friends, let me repeat that. The book, the painting, the film script is not the only art. It’s important, but in a way, it’s a receipt. It’s a diploma. The book you write, the painting you create, the music you compose is important and artistic, but it’s also a mark of proof you’ve done the work to learn because in the end of it all, you are the art. The most important change made by an artistic endeavor is the change it makes in you. The most important emotions are the ones you feel when writing that story and holding the completed work.
“I don’t care if the AI can create something that is better than what we can create because it cannot be changed by that creation. Writing a prompt for an LLM, even refining what it spits out, will not make an artist of you because if you haven’t done the hard part—if you haven’t watched a book spiral completely out of control, if you haven’t written something you thought was wonderful and then had readers get completely lost because your narrative chops aren’t strong enough, if you haven’t beat your head against the wall of dead ends on a story day after day until you break it down and find the unexpected path—you’re not going to have the skill to refine that prompt. The machine will have done the hard part for you and it doesn’t care.”
Growth comes from making mistakes. It comes from the struggle. The “distance travelled,” to borrow a term Aram Verdiyan used before. This is why investors often prefer partnerships and co-founderships. It’s why many firms have “red teams.”
There is probably a day when AI can do our job. But for now, the art of investing is in the friction it takes to make a decision. The character-building moments. The moments where you question your own priors. So if AI enables you to have more nuanced dialogues with yourself, if it challenges the way you think in ways you hadn’t considered before so that you look for evidence that either proves or disproves the null hypothesis, then there will still be room for the use of AI in investing. Otherwise, if you’re regurgitating scripts based on singular uninspired prompts, then you likely won’t have a job for long.
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.
Recently, I had three conversations about trust. So forgive me, but that’s the soup du jour today, as their comments are still swimming in my mind.
I spent some time with the Head of Investor Relations at a high nine-figure AUM firm. And he said something that echoed much of the reality of fundraising these days. “Fundraising is all about trust. It’s not about the performance metrics. It’s about who believes in you.”
Then, immediately after, I caught up with an LP friend, who said, “Investor relations is a wasted job title in VC. They’re glorified note takers and relationship managers. I won’t invest in any fund where I haven’t met the GP.” Only to later share how much we both admired a certain Head of IR at a large multi-stage fund.
At first glance, the irony is blinding. The funny thing is that both are equally as true. GPs have a bank account where they can deposit trust. They withdraw trust every time they make an ask. Whether it’s for capital or special terms on the term sheet or for a certain ownerships target or for a guest speaker for an event they’re hosting. Before a GP starts a firm, they need to bank a lot of trust. They should give more than they take. And to run a firm, there are three types of primary customers you need to bank trust with:
Founders,
Co-investors,
And LPs.
You also can’t take a loan on trust (in other words, outsource trust) before you’ve deposited enough trust in your own bank account. Or else, you’ll be in debt. If you’re in too much debt (i.e. have a negative balance), your reputation takes a hit. But when you’ve banked enough trust, you can have a separately managed trust account managed by others. An IR professional who manages the trust account with LPs. A community/platform person with co-investors and talent. And so on.
Having others manage these accounts too early in the firm lifecycle means taking debt and impacting reputation. So when my buddy who’s the LPs says he doesn’t like most IR folks, it’s because before the IR person was hired, the GP didn’t bank enough trust.
And the truth is trust is built not in grand gestures and one-off deals. It’s in the small interactions. How fast do you respond? Even when you’re busy, do you make time for people important to you? Do you remember what you talked about last time? Do you close the loop on advice you get from LPs—whether you use it or not? Do you remember their answer to ‘What did you do last weekend’ 15 weekends ago? Do you follow through with what you promise—even if it’s a restaurant recommendation you mentioned in the call?
In a conversation with a Fund I GP yesterday who successfully raised his 8-figure fund in 8 weeks (and yes, part of that duration was over the holidays), he said something I really liked: “Every LP is looking for returns. That’s a given. But every LP is also looking for returns plus X. Your job during the fundraising process is to find out what X is, and it may be less obvious than you think it is.” For some, X is undoing boredom. For others, it’s the front row seat to learn. Others still, it’s the prospect of social capital that will come with making an investment. And you can’t find any of these out, if you don’t spend the time to build trust with the other party.
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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.
A lot of what I will say applies similarly to assessing founders and with senior talent, but for the sake of this blogpost, I’m going to focus primarily on doing diligence on GPs.
Sequoia’s Pat Gradyco-wrote a piece on AGI that’s been making its rounds the last few days. FYI, this post has nothing to do with AGI, so don’t get your hopes up. But in it, he shares:
Note the highlights above are all around how to better understand an individual’s internet presence. While not all-encompassing, understanding someone’s brand via their social media is more than just how many followers, likes, comments, and shares. As my good YouTuber friend once told me, “Not all subscribers are created equal. English-speaking personal finance content get paid the most per impression.” Analogously, the same is true for LinkedIn or Twitter/X content.
Just because you have 25K followers, how often are you just resharing your employer’s content? Or your portfolio company’s content? How often do you share your thought leadership? Do people follow you because of your perceived status or do people follow you because of the weight of your ideas? There’s a great Simon Sinek talk about the former Under Secretary of Defense on this, which I won’t bore you with the details, but if you want the full story, it’s here. In summary, if you no longer held the job title you do today, would people engage with you differently?
That’s what I’m trying to figure out.
The first filter is: What is your insight per post ratio? This includes reshares and comments they make on other people’s posts. At a high level, do you recognize what good content looks like?
The second filter is: What is your original insight per post ratio? How much of your activity is original ideas? Is that what people engage with? Or do they engage more with your reshared content? When they do engage, how?
Level 1 is a like. The least number of clicks to engage with you.
Level 2 is a reaction other than a like. It takes a second longer to do so, but is more intentional. To be fair, a spam-like content (i.e. “LFG”, “Proud of you”, “Excited”, etc.), I also put in this tier.
Level 3 is a thoughtful comment that you can’t use on any other post. They’ve read and thoughtfully engaged back. Also on this tier is a quick reshare.
Level 4 is a thoughtful reshare. Or on Twitter (still not easy to call it X), a “quote retweet.” You’re staking not only your personal brand and reputation with your own followers, but you’re also letting others know how you’ve thought about the content being shared.
It’s not a perfect scorecard, but I do keep a rough mental tally (which goes into my own memo) of what a GP’s social brand is. And at what point was there an inflection in their thinking and/or following. Usually quite correlated with each other.
Other things I find interesting to observe, but cannot be understood in isolation:
Most frequent commenters and reshare your content
Reactions-to-follower count ratio
Connections-to-follower ratio
How similar/different their content on LinkedIn vs Twitter/X vs Instagram/TikTok vs podcast platform is
AI-search optimization (AEO): What keywords and/or questions do certain GPs own in search traffic? How does it compare across ChatGPT vs Claude vs Gemini? And in incognito AI search.
Frequency of getting tagged by others on social media outside of viral periods
Endurance of content even when little to no engagement, usually for podcasts, blogs and newsletters. And why do they continue doing so even when it’s not producing the results they desire (more of a qualitative understanding on the personality traits of a GP)
Frequency of guest appearances on others’ content channels and how do those appearances’ views compare to said influencer’s average view-to-subscriber ratio
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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.
One of the most interesting self-reflective questions I think GPs should ask is: If someone else had the exact same strategy and offered the exact same terms, why would someone not pick you over another VC? That’s adverse selection.
One of the three pillars (or five pillars, depending on who you ask) of underwriting a venture fund is winning. The others being seeing and picking (and supporting and selling). But sometimes what’s more interesting than underwriting why a GP wins is understanding all the reasons they won’t win.
It’s an interesting thought exercise I like working through with a GP. “Why won’t a founder let you invest?” or “Assuming you wanted to invest, why would you lose out on a deal?”
The most common answers are always:
“I missed the timing.”
“There was no more space left.”
“They weren’t raising at the time.”
In my opinion, while possibly true, all cop-out answers. Then I follow up: “Assuming you wanted to invest, and there’s space left, and they’re currently raising, why would a founder say no to you?” Or “Why wouldn’t you be able to invest?” More often than not, I get an answer along the lines of: “I win (almost) every deal I want.” Or “I have yet to raise my fund.”
Even if true historically, it doesn’t answer the question. It’s like asking a job candidate: “Tell me about your weakness.” And they respond with, “I’m too honest.” Or worse, “I have no weaknesses.”
What I’m trying to get at in these questions is not the “right” answer. There is none. But rather what are the reasons you’ll fail to win a deal. Which of those reasons are areas where you would like to improve upon? Which of those reasons are areas where you will continue to be unrelenting on? What will you not change? Only then can I get a better understanding of the GP you will become 2-3 funds from now. And if so, does it make sense to do business with each other today?
There’s a Fund I GP I ended up investing in. When I first asked him the question above, he reached the conclusion that his pitch and value-add resonated more with second-time founders than first-time founders at the pre-seed stage. And given that he wanted to grow into a lead investor eventually, what he had to figure out was how to build a strong enough brand with first-time founders, requiring both education and intentional positioning. For me as an LP, it became easy for me to see how he would grow into a Fund II GP. Between then and his next fundraise, I’d just track how many first-time founders he invested in, try to spend time with them at events, and ask why did you take this GP’s check and what did you really want from him.
There is no right answer as to what founders wouldn’t want to work with you. It’s just an exercise of self-awareness, so you can figure out what’s worth working on and what’s not. Adverse selection reasons I’ve heard in the past, in no particular order, include:
Political alignment
Naming a firm after their own name instead of an ideal (yes, that is a real answer I’ve gotten before)
Speed to make a decision
High ownership targets
Response time, including taking the holidays/weekends off when their peers might still be dealmaking
Lack of brand awareness
No founding experience
No experience at a large established firm
No relationships with key potential customers
Values shared publicly / controversial opinions
Personality (i.e. too nice, people pleaser, argumentative, arrogant, name-dropping/logo-shopping, too humble, etc.)
Lack of talent networks
Having invested in a competitor
A homogenous partnership
A rumor that is widespread but may not have real credence
A single remark from an influencer in the ecosystem (or a close friend), then what’s more interesting is why someone would say something like that
The way a GP dresses (especially important in certain geographies outside of the US)
The initial outreach was done by a junior team member or a broker/dealer
Subsequent conversations done by a junior team member
A reference call with their network done in poor taste
Someone with no board experience asking for a board seat
Having someone else on the team take the board seat even though you did the deal and the founder wanted you
Aggressive term sheet terms (1X+ liquidation preferences – participating and preferred)
Having no respect for prior round investors (especially, in relation to their most helpful investors so far, often related to their pro rata)
Badmouthing their existing investors and/or teammates
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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.
I caught up with a single family office over the holidays. Let’s call him Mark. Mark told me that he had caught up with a Fund I GP that I had passed on. Let’s call her Susan. In that conversation with that GP, he told Susan that I introed him to another GP “Charlie” whom she knew and whom I invested in, which he eventually passed on. And Susan asked Mark why I invested. That it made no sense. That Susan herself would have never invested in Charlie. As such, she didn’t know why I would invest in Charlie and not her. After sharing that last line, with no explicit question that plead for an answer, Mark looked at me, waiting to see how I’d respond.
I stared back at him. And he to I. And I to him.
As he felt seemingly unsatisfied with my reaction, I asked him, “If I put both of these GPs on a report card, how would you score each?”
He followed up, “Susan is more experienced. She’s done X and Y. And she came from Z.”
“You’re right. Susan is all of that. In fact, on a report card, it’s fair to say that her GPA is a solid B+, maybe an A-.”
He concurred.
I went on. “And Charlie would probably score a B, maybe B-, if we were really critical. But to you, did anything about Susan jump out at you?”
“Not exactly.”
“What about Charlie?”
“Well, there’s that…”
“I agree. For me, and you don’t have to agree with my assessment, Charlie is on paper a lower GPA than Susan, but Charlie spikes in very particular areas. Areas I personally believe puts him in a position to do really well. That he will have a good chance to outperform. Susan is factually better in almost every area than Charlie is, but she doesn’t spike in any area. At least it’s not obvious to me. I like her thesis. I think she has a great GP-thesis fit. And I do believe that her thesis has a really good chance of being right, but I’m not sure she’s the only person in the world who can do that, much less the best person in the world to do it. In fact, I can think of two other GPs who spike in that thesis area where she doesn’t.”
It’s harsh criticism. And it’s not my place to give non-constructive criticism. So what I said when I passed was that we had other deals in the pipeline that were a lot more interesting to us. Which is true. But it’s not my place to say “I don’t think you’re good enough.” And she probably felt my pass was unsatisfying. Because in her shoes, I’d probably feel the same.
I don’t invest in all-rounders. There’s a time and place and industry for those. But I don’t believe it’s venture. Even less early stage emerging managers. There’s a line I’ve long liked in the F1 world. “In Formula 1 it’s nearly impossible to go from 13th to 1st on a sunny day, but it’s possible on a rainy day.” In the uncharted territory of true early, early stage investing, it’s always a rainy day. And to go from 13th to 1st, you need to make bold decisions. Measured, well-timed, but risky decisions. You need to make certain sacrifices to do so.
To me, that meant comparatively lower grade-point averages, but much, much higher select individual subject grades. In fact, only an A++ would suffice. A spike must be at least three standard deviations from the mean. As an emerging manager LP, who plans to be an active participant in the journey, naturally with the GP’s permission, it falls on me and my peers to help our GPs raise their overall GPAs, but we can’t help them spike. But in that, we must know and recognize their flaws.
One of the most interesting spectacles I’ve always marveled at is how lumberjacks fell trees. The first cut is the notch cut that indicates the direction the tree will fall. The second is the felling cut that catalyzes the tree to fall, acting as the hinge.
In many ways, the GP spikes (and flaws) makes the first cut. Whether you count it as nature or nurture. The GP’s job is to figure out which direction they’d like to fall. Or to borrow a line from Mark Manson’s most important question of your life: “What pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for? How do you choose to suffer?” To further borrow, “What determines your success isn’t ‘What do you want to enjoy?’ The question is, ‘What pain do you want to sustain?’ The quality of your life is not determined by the quality of your positive experiences, but the quality of your negative experiences. And to get good at dealing with negative experiences is to get good at dealing with life.” All in all, it’s a GP’s job to make that choice. An LP cannot make that choice for the GP. And it is a function of the flaws they’re willing to overcome, and how they want to double down on their spikes.
The second cut is for investors, board and advisory members to nudge our investees towards the direction they so chose. As the great Tom Landry once said, “A coach is someone who tells you what you don’t want to hear, who has you see what you don’t want to see, so you can be who you have always known you could be.” But the prerequisite for the second cut is the first. The first requires intentional and special people.
Along a similar vein, my buddy Henry wrote a post recently I really liked.
“Is this founder special?” That’s probably the only question that has to be asked in every non-obvious investment decision. Maybe every investment decision. But especially true under imperfect information conditions. And special isn’t just about getting a high GPA.
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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.
“‘I remember’ is more meaningful than ‘I love you.'”
I was catching up with an college friend over the holidays who’s now in a wonderfully happy relationship now, when once upon a time, she once doubted her ability to fall in love again. And as we were talking about what makes this guy special compared to all the other ones, she said: “Because he remembers the small things.”
“I love you”, while great for Hallmark movies, often feels empty if not paired with action. And more often than not, actions speak louder than words. Remembering that whenever they order they pick the carrots out of the salad, so you order salad without the carrots. Remembering their bucket list and making it a quarterly goal to check something off that bucket list.
Separately, I caught up with a friend who runs investors relations (IR) for a large multi-stage firm. Someone I’ve heard from many—colleagues, LPs, founders, even her friends—that she is one of the most thoughtful people in the world, which seems to be “easy” for her because she has a great memory and they “don’t”. For a blogpost that will come out next year, we were talking about IR best practices and what her CRM looks like. And I can say it’s accident that she comes off with great memory. There are details she tracks in there that no sane capital formation professional would actively track. One’s go-to coffee order. Their children’s birthdays. Their anniversary. Their first day on the job. And so on. What is that James Clear line again? “You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.”
This past year was a year where I found myself remembering. How I got here. Did I even want to be here? Why did I want to be here? Who helped me get here? What they did? What might’ve seemed like an accident, but was a subconscious habit or intention? Even to the point I’ve asked several guests on the podcast, if they always knew they wanted to be where they are today. How did they know? When did they realize it? Given how personal some of the answers got, we had to leave quite a few on the editing floor. (Sorry.)
I left Alchemist close to the beginning of this past year. 2025 was also the first year since I started where I didn’t share my birthday resolutions on this blog. Largely because I didn’t know if I needed to add more to my list of things to do, but rather subtract things.
And now I’m writing this on the last day of the year, as it felt right to recap on the year only after the year was done. (Almost done.)
2025’s Most Popular
Most of my writing this year centralized around LP/GP dynamics. More so than any previous year.
Which is funny. I started this humble blog as a public FAQ. I used to—still do—get quite a few messages often asking for the same advice. I’ve always disliked giving general advice. A piece of advice is only as great as the situation in which you use it in. But most people ask generic questions. And generic questions often get generic advice. Nevertheless, I’ve always erred on the side of sharing the circumstance in which the advice is given when I do share generic advice, except when the advice, in my experience, applies to most people I talk to. And it’s funny that of this year’s most popular blogposts, four definitely include generic advice. Two arguably more circumstantial. But proportionally, even looking back at my most popular blogposts, the furthest reaching ones often house FAQs that most people can relate to. Or know someone that can relate to it.
Without further ado, my most popular pieces of writing this year:
Hustle as a Differentiator — I don’t know how ‘hustle’ went up in search volume this year, but it did. At least in terms of how people found this essay. But I also think people like stories and tactical examples of when and how hustle beat everything else. And this is the blogpost for that. Also, the only one of the top six not written this year.
If 198 Pieces of Unsolicited, (Possibly) Ungooglable Advice for Founders Were Not Enough — The third installation of my 99 pieces of tactical founder advice series. Admittedly, not surprised this went far. Sometimes great content is hard to find. And every time I publish a collection, like this, I hope it becomes the Dewey Decimal Classification for good, tactical content in the innovation ecosystem.
Dear LP — I wrote the sister blogpost of this first. But an emerging manager asked me to write that calls LPs out on their bad behavior. Not a good reason to write a piece in my opinion, until the subsequent weeks’ worth of LP conversations left me frustrated at LP behavior myself. This is also the blogpost where I had more than a handful of friends reach out to ask if I was okay. Which I was and am. This essay was the therapy I needed.
Good Misses and Bad Hits — Most outcomes in venture aren’t clear until a decade later. And when they are, so much of our past memory atrophies that for many of us, we can’t pattern match to why we made the decisions we did. Inspired by our Golden State celebrity, we decided to write a piece on what it means to measure inputs before the outputs and how we can course correct before it’s too late.
Dear Emerging Manager — Born out of frustration with emerging managers who seem to be living under a rock. But also a realization that not every GP has the vantage point that LPs do. In fact, most don’t. So this letter was hopefully helpful to debunk some of the myths GPs have.
Goldilocks and the 3 Secondaries — One of my favorite pieces I co-wrote this year with Dave, as it is one of the most tactical and intellectually rigorous pieces this year, but also a great mathematical exercise of how much of your private stake in a company to sell, when, and to whom.
All-Time Most Popular
2025 was the year I took a step back from promoting any of this blog’s content online. I also took down any vestigial pages that asked for a subscription within the first 10 seconds of browsing a page on this blog. I simply wanted this blog to be my safe harbor, my personal diary on my journey week by week. I realized that every time I actively promoted my blog on social media, I felt a part of me die.
Unlike Superclusters, this blog isn’t meant for one particular audience. While this blog has grown over time and I’m thankful to each and every one of you who has joined me in this journey, and while I had many an opportunity to do a sponsored blogpost, selling any piece of this virtual real estate felt disingenuous. It felt that I was selling a part of my soul. Because every week when I write, I write about whatever I want to write about. I don’t have an agenda. I merely write to write.
And the way I felt most true to myself was to no longer pursue any marketing of this blog. The only reason any of the afore-mentioned blogposts in the last section made its way to new audiences is that I’m lucky to have readers like you share things with the world, while I’ve hermitized.
As such, any growth of this blog this year is because of you, not me. For that and more, I am deeply thankful. Nevertheless, the all-time most popular blogposts haven’t varied much compared to last year, except for our lucky number five. Interestingly enough, I didn’t even write that one this year.
The Science of Selling – Early DPI Benchmarks — Honestly, it still surprises me that this is my most popular one to date. Not because I think it’s a bad topic—in fact, I truly believe it’s a much needed discussion as venture funds face liquidity crunches and the asset class institutionalizes—but because, I think it’s still a niche topic that is not widely searched for. But I’m glad that people are searching for answers here. This one also led me to write its sister piece here, which ranked 6th for this year’s most popular.
The Non-Obvious Emerging LP Playbook — My first piece that felt like it went viral. And the one that taught me how much dialogue is needed in this world around investing in venture funds.
10 Letters of Thanks to 10 People who Changed my Life — Another surprise that this topic of gratitude is as enduring as it is. Hopefully, this will play a small part in helping create a more grateful world. We stand on the shoulders of giants. It’s always important to never forget that fact.
Hustle as a Differentiator — Only a matter of time that this one beat out the one I wrote about how to host fireside chats. 🙂
2025’s Most Memorable
It’s always deeply interesting to me that sometimes the blogposts I spend the most time writing and/or are the ones that resonate with me the most personally don’t always go the furthest. A constant reminder that what the world might like, what you might like, may vary from what I like. From time to time, I get small notes from you that an esoteric, but deeply personal blogpost peaks your interest. And it really makes my day. For a very brief 24 hours, if only to relish in the small joys in life, I save those notes for when I feel imposter syndrome. Trust me, it happens. Not because the readership is highest, but because it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my peculiar, sometimes really nerdy interests.
The below I will list, in no particular order, as each meant something to me at the time of writing each, as well as moving forward:
Goldilocks and the 3 Secondaries — Same rationale as above. And if you want the actual model we used to model when and how much to sell on the secondary market, it’s in there.
Flaws, Restrictions, and Limitations — Inspired by Brandon Sanderson’s framework for character development, I’ve found this framework quite useful when assessing how risky an investment is into an emerging manager.
Dear Emerging Manager — Same as the above. Free therapy for myself. Hopefully helpful to the world.
The Question Off — One of my favorite drills I did this year to be a more thoughtful conversationalist, with none other than the best sparring partner out there, Kevin Kelly.
On Re-Ups — I’m an emerging LP. I haven’t been allocating to venture funds for over a decade, and so I’m still learning. This year, for the first time, I had managers I invested in, in previous vintages, come back and ask for me to re-up. Rather than do so haphazardly, I had to build a system for when it makes sense for me to re-up. This is it.
Gratitude and Deal Flow — One of my favorite re-framings on who I choose to invest in. And I couldn’t spell out why I liked certain managers over other great ones until a friend spelled it out for me.
Intro Policy — Another piece for personal therapy. Since writing this, it’s been much easier for myself to decide when to make intros.
300 WhatsApp Messages Later: Our Risk Framework for Backing Emerging VCs — One of the beauties of collaborating with someone brilliant—I’m looking at you, Ben—is that I learn something new as I am writing this alongside my co-author. Iron sharpens iron. And it was through this piece, that I built a more robust risk framework to evaluate emerging managers.
Scientists, Celebrities and Magicians — Kudos to my friend, Michael, for teaching me his framework for how a professional can be a triple threat, which I’ve since applied to the world of venture. And how different investors and leaders spike.
Referencing Excellence — The more I invest as an LP, the more important I realize how important reference calls are. The more important I realize they are, the more I realize I need to refine the way I get to the truth. Unfortunately, there’s no silver bullet, but this blogpost led me down my first real personal exploration for how to do references my way.
There is but one personally memorable blogpost I will intentionally leave out of the above list. It is the only one I’ve gone back to edit not once, not twice, but four times this year. Let’s call it an easter egg. If you do find it somehow, just know that I plan to continue updating that piece next year as well.
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.
