Tag: unfiltered

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#unfiltered #92 AGMs, VC Funds, and the Personality Hypothesis

event, conference, concert

In the last few months, I’ve been to a number of AGMs. For the uninitiated, annual general meetings. These annual summits VCs host once a year to their investors. Their LPs. Some of such events I go to because I’m an LP in those respective funds. The vast majority of which I am not. But I go because I’m a friend of the team, or the GPs want me to give them feedback on the event, or that I advised them on how to put together the event itself. The invite, in and of itself, especially to those I am not an LP in, is an honor and a privilege. Something I don’t take lightly.

The best ones bring in quality attendees, not just speakers. And that these A-players bring their A-game. They are willing to share their insights and experience with candor, and leave little to the imagination. They are battlegrounds of ideas and creative conflict. To take a line from Matt Ridley, a line I first heard also at a an AGM last week, “Innovation is when ideas have sex.” Quality events are simply “brothels of ideas,” to borrow a line from a speaker at that AGM, leading not only to a higher quality of conversation, but also a higher quality of eavesdropping.

In the words of someone I met at one last week, “I don’t have a membership to a country club, but this is the closest thing I have to it.”

In each, the general partners for each firm would typically share the progress of the fund. The good. The bad. The numbers. The trends. As well as the future of the fund. Then after all that, they would have 2-3 of their portfolio companies present on stage, with insight as to what innovation looks like from ground zero. My personal favorites are where the founders don’t pitch that they’re fundraising. It is purely, in its truest sense, an exchange of ideas. Occasionally, there would be an additional speaker — an influential individual in the space to highlight the GP(s)’ networks. These have ranged from published authors to established GPs to celebrities to bloggers and podcasters to Nobel Prize winners.

LPs often go to so many of these. Many more than I have to date. That at some point, every annual meeting starts looking like the next. If you knew nothing else, or if you’re ever curious of my favorite rule of thumb on whether an AGM is truly different and worth one’s time is one where less than 10% of the attendees are on their devices. And even if they are, they aren’t on it for long.

That said, one thing I couldn’t help but notice was that many of the founders who spoke on stage often reflected the personality of the GPs. A mirror of sorts. Not all the time, but enough for me to consistently notice. Which makes sense since like-minded people gravitate towards each other.

People with similar energy levels. People with similar levels of charisma. Those with similar levels of curiosity. Similar sets of hobbies.

I have no thesis here. Merely a hypothesis from a very anecdotal set of observations. How crucial is a GP’s personality in selecting and attracting founders? If there was a loose personality archetype of a great founder, does that mean LPs should pick GPs with that same personality archetype since they’re more likely to attract entrepreneurs with similar personalities?

Hell, as they sit two degrees of freedom away from actual innovation, do most LPs actually know what makes a great founder?

Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #90 If A Song Took a Lifetime to Play

music, song

Just the other day, I was listening to one of 99% Invisible’s episodes, interestingly titled as “As Slow As Possible,” named after the organization ASLSP, which stands for the same. My knee-jerk reaction was that the abbreviation and the first letters of each word just didn’t match up. Luckily, Roman Mars and Gabe Bullard explained. Although it still left something more to be desired.

“The title is also a reference to a line in James Joyce’s novel Finnegans Wake. The line is: ‘Soft morning, city! Lsp!’ Where lisp is just spelled L S P.”

Nevertheless, the episode itself circles around the concept of taking one song and using the entire lifespan of a pipe organ (639 years) to play that song just once. That even a single note would take two years to play. A fascinating concept! And which led me down a rabbit hole of thought experiments.

What if we took our favorite song and extrapolated that to the human lifespan? Say 90 years. What note would we be on today? Have we gotten to the chorus yet?

So for the sake of this thought experiment, for a brief second, let’s walk down the lane of music theory. Take the average pop song. The average pop song plays for about three minutes. And many at 120 beats per minute. Apparently, 120 bpm is also the golden number you want to get to if you’re working a crowd as a DJ. You never start at that speed, but you work your way up throughout the night. And if you can get people’s heart rate matching the beats per minute, you’ve hit resonance. But I digress.

So, taking round numbers, the average pop song has a total of 360 beats. Most songs are in 4/4 time. In other words, four beats per bar. An average pop song takes about 2-4 bars for the intro. 16 bars for a verse. Possibly, another 4 bars as the pre-chorus. And the first chorus doesn’t really start till bar 25. And usually lasts another 4-8 bars.

Now, if we were to extrapolate a song to the average human lifespan. 90 years. 360 beats across 90 years. Assuming it takes 24 bars to get to the chorus, the chorus doesn’t start until we’re 24 years old. And the full chorus doesn’t end until we’re 32 years old. With each note lasting a full three months. And the second chorus starts around age 48.

Then again, I remember reading somewhere that most pop songs are played in multiples of four or eight. And that most of these songs only have 80 bars. If that’s the case, the first chorus doesn’t kick in till we’re just past 28 years old and ends around 36 years old.

In either case, the first chorus happens around the time when most people would define as their prime. Young enough to take risks; old enough to be dangerous. The second chorus seems to fit as the second wind people have in their careers. Hell, HBR found, the median age of a startup founder when they start is 45. And with that reference point, they’ll be 47 or 48 when they become venture-backed.

Obviously, this is just me playing around with numbers. Correlation does not mean causation, of course. But nevertheless, the parallels… curious and uncanny.

P.S. Jaclyn Hester and my episode together on Superclusters got me thinking about a lot how much music applies to our lives and how we live and think.

Cover Photo at the top by Marius Masalar on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #89 The Palate Setter

cheese

Around the time I wrote a blogpost on culinary tips I had amassed from various chefs, I ended up getting one more piece of advice from a James Beard award winner. The culinary equivalent of a Pulitzer. In fact, one piece of advice that came in right after I clicked publish on that blogpost. Which I subsequently failed to include.

I had asked, “How do you know the palate you come into the kitchen with today is the same as the one that you came in with yesterday? And similarly, what about the one tomorrow?”

To which he responded, “I don’t know.” For a brief second, there was silence. Both of us knowing that the void will be filled, but left there for dramatic effect. “Swiss cheese.”

“Huh?”

“Swiss cheese. Not the fancy stuff, the one you find in the refrigerated section in the supermarket. Every day, when I go into the kitchen, I take a bite of swiss cheese. To me, it has the perfect balance of umami, salt, nuttiness. And the supermarket brand one is always produced with a consistency in their quality. If my bite that day is not as salty, then my palate is muted, and I should salt my dishes that day a little more. And so on.”

And I found that fascinating. Recently, I was reminded of that advice when I was chatting with my friends on preparation rituals. When we start something, to get us in the right mindset, what is the set of practices in which we use to orient ourselves?

Back when I was still swimming competitively, we used to always say the hardest part about swimming is getting in the water. Effectively, starting. The below were some other rituals that came up in that conversation. Part in hopes that it may inspire you to start your own, partly to make sure that I immortalize these practices for myself.

Music

The tuner in many ways is the swiss cheese in music. Something so consistent that it becomes the benchmark for what sound should be. Is your instrument too sharp or too flat?

But from a ritualistic perspective, I’ve seen many play the scales to loosen their fingers, but one of my favorites from my buddy who plays the flute in the orchestra is beatboxing, while playing the happy birthday song. The song choice itself matters less than using one’s entire mouth to enunciate certain beats. And so, by the end of the song, the windpipes and larynx are fully massaged and ready to go.

Podcasts / Streaming

For me, it’s doing 20 burpees while listening to a collection of my favorite podcast clips that I’ve saved from other podcasters, then sitting down and skimming through this list of catchphrases that I’ve since called “The Rookie Guide for Veteran Podcasters.”

For another friend, who’s far more accomplished than I am on this front, it’s doing a series of vocal exercises and facial massages. The former of which expand in both pitch and volume (from a whisper to singing in a voice suited best for operas).

From a third friend, it was religiously taking a 1-hour nap about an hour before the recording session.

Giving live talks

This isn’t from any of us in the room at the time. But Tim Ferriss has also gone on record sharing what he did in preparation for his first SXSW talk when we just launched the Four-Hour Workweek. That he was staying in a friend’s home who had cats. And he kept practicing his talk in front of the cats trying to get their attention. None of which, I assume, knew anything about what he was talking about, yet if he could convey his intent, energy and emotions through to the cat, he’d have a fighting chance getting the audience’s attention at SXSW.

Photo by Camille Brodard on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #88 Koi No Yokan

love, heart

In a late night conversation with my high school friend last week, I picked up a fascinating Japanese phrase from her. Koi no yokan.

The best translation of it that I found was ‘the premonition of love.’ It serves as the antithesis to the notion of love at first sight. It’s love that takes time to grow on you. Slow, but steady. A seemingly acquired, yet inevitable sense of fate. It’s a feeling that begins when you meet someone you’ll eventually fall in love with.

It’s a remarkable concept with no direct English parallel. It sits in rarified air between words like hiraeth, hyggelig, and yūgen. All of which have inextricable meaning behind a seemingly simplistic string of letters. While I’ll leave the afore-mentioned three to your own rabbit holes, as you might imagine, I’ve been having quite a field trip across the linguistic landscape.

Koi no yokan.

It’s a concept that’s often applied to the enamor between humans. This may just be me being a sacrilegious foreigner, but I find the same linguistic beauty with passions.

In many ways, my love for the emerging GP and LP world was the same. If you told me back in college, that I’d want to spend a few decades of my life obsessed over demystifying the space, I’d have called your bluff. Might have even called you bonkers.

And while I’d been hovering like a satellite around the space for a while, it wasn’t till I started writing The Non-Obvious Emerging LP Playbook that I realized there was an inkling of a yearning there. Answers only led to more questions. Each insight I learned was always paired with another punctuated with a question mark. And it honestly was a really fun exercise. I didn’t write that blogpost for anyone else. Just myself. Like a public diary that encapsulated my intellectual expedition in the LP world. Even before I published it, even before any other feedback I got for it, it felt special. All catalyzed by an opportunity to back a first-time fund manager I’d been honored to see grow as the last check in.

At that point, I still had neither committed to the idea of really being a capital allocator nor to the promise of more of such content.

And when that blogpost finally saw daylight, and a number of readers responded in kind, a tenured investor asked if I was going to write a book. It seemed only fitting that a non-fiction 200-page book be the successor to the 12,500 word blogpost. So pen met paper.

I revisited old and forged new relationships off the momentum of the blogpost. And around 80 pages into the manuscript, I ran out of things to write. I didn’t know how to continue. It felt both lacking and comprehensive at the same time. I could add in more examples. Case studies. Or just superfluous language. The equivalent of turning “my dad” into “my wife’s father-in-law.” The latter of which I swore to myself I wouldn’t do.

So I stopped.

Put it aside. And went on with the rest of my life.

But time and time again, I’d find myself staring at the ceiling at night, journaling, or writing on my whiteboard in the shower about the afore-mentioned topics. It became borderline annoying that my mind kept circling back to it and I was doing nothing about it.

So frick that. As I once learned from Max Nussenbaum, who I got to work with sooner after, the fastest way to test out if there’s a market for your ideas AND if one’s interests are sustained across longer periods of time is to just write about it. And I did. Here, here, here, and more.

At one point, my buddy Erik asked if I was going to start a podcast. At first, I dismissed the idea. Didn’t think I had the skillset or the personality for one. But man, I lost even more sleep in the ensuing weeks after he seeded the idea in my head. And so I started a podcast. (Which holy hell, I can’t wait to show you Season 3 on July 1st)

I realized much later, probably a year after I stopped writing the book, that the reason I couldn’t write anymore, despite asking so many really smart LPs for help, wasn’t that there was nothing more to share, there was still a lot… Hell, even each family office had a strategy so unlike the next. And as the saying goes, if you know one family office, you really only know one family office. So no, it wasn’t because there was nothing else to write. In one world, I could have just written an encyclopedia of strategies. It was that there was so much that had yet to be written, ever, about allocating into emerging managers.

Venture as an asset class was not the Wild West, still an alternative and still risky, but there have been predecessors who’ve productized the practice. But allocating to Fund I’s and II’s without proof of a track record was a horizon most had yet to cross.

Hell, I wrote a LinkedIn post just yesterday on how I think about evaluating Fund I track records without relying on TVPI, DPI, and IRR. And why I think more funds of funds should exist.

An excerpt on my LinkedIn post

Simply put and in summary, there’s a complexity premium on not just venture capital, but specifically on evaluating Fund Is and IIs. And I don’t mean the big firm spinouts who have a portable track record. I mean the real folks who are truly starting to build a firm (not just a fund) for the first time.

I don’t have all the answers. Sure, as hell, I hope to have more in the near future. But I’m ridiculously excited to find answers (and more nuanced questions) — putting science to art — as an emerging LP.

If you couldn’t tell yet… I think I’m in love.

And if you’re interested, I’d love to have you join me on this ride.

Photo by Mayur Gala on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #87 Shower Thoughts on Great Founders and Great Investors

expo, markers, whiteboard

I’ve been doing some thinking as of late in and out of the shower. In conversations. In reexamining my own investment thesis. And changing it as a function of scar tissue and tears of joy. As such, sharing a few shower thoughts below that for the below, might be better described as a tweet than in a long-form blogpost.

About founders

  1. A community or 1000 true fans built without big brands and logos is far more impressive than a community built by leveraging someone else’s brands.
  2. 20 years of experience is more impressive than 20 one-year experiences for deeply technical problems.
  3. 20 one-year experiences is more impressive than 20 years of experience for cultural (consumer) problems.
  4. Great founders don’t delegate understanding. Senior execs aren’t hired until founders themselves prove out the playbook.
  5. In the age of AI, new information is more valuable than remixes of old. Standing out is more important than fitting in. The latter of which will be replaced with by AI given the wealth of data out there. (Ironically, this line is inspired by old conversations plus Sriram Krishnan’s blogpost)
  6. Revenue matters more than traffic for consumer products since AI bots can now mimic simple digital human behavior.
  7. Silicon Valley / SF Bay Area is strong because of the high quality of eavesdropping. There are so many ideas being thrown around in coffee shops. It’s quite easy to stumble across a world-class lesson without paying $2000 for a conference ticket. Things sure have changed since ’08.

About investors

  1. In early stage venture, debates on price is a lagging indicator of conviction, or more so, lack thereof.
    • Price also matters a lot more for big funds than small funds.
    • Price also matters more for Series B+ funds.
    • Will caveat that there’s an ocean of difference between $10M and $25M valuation. But it’s semantics between $10M and $12M valuation. How big your slice of the pie is doesn’t matter if the pie doesn’t grow.
    • Not saying that it’s correlated, but it does remind me of a Kissinger quote: “The reason that university politics is so vicious is because stakes are so small.”
  2. The reasons Fund I’s and II’s outperform are likely:
    • Chips on shoulders mean they hustle more to find the best deals. They have to search where big funds aren’t or come in sooner than big funds do.
    • Small fund size is easier to return than a larger fund size.
    • Rarely do they have ownership targets (nor do they need significant ownership to return the fund). Meaning they’re collaborative and friendly on the cap table, aka with most other investors, especially big lead investors.
    • Price matters less. Big funds really have to play the price game a little bit more since (1) likely to be investing in multiple stages with reserves, and price matters more past the Series A than before, and (2) they’re constrained by check size, ownership targets, and therefore price in order to still have a fund returner.
  3. “Judge me on how good my good ideas are, not how bad my bad ideas are.” — Ben Affleck when writing Good Will Hunting. A lot of being a VC is like that. Hell, a lot of being a founder is like that.
  4. We like to cite the power law a lot. Where 20% of our investments account for 80% of our returns. But if we were to apply that line of thinking two more times. Aka 4% (20 x 20%) of our investments account for 64% of our returns. Then 0.8% account for 51.2% of our returns. If you really think about it, if you invest in 100 companies, we see in a lot of great portfolios where a single investment return more than 50% of the historical returns.

Photo by Mark Rabe on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #81 Against All Odds

sunrise, sunset

A few days ago, I caught up with an old friend from college. Amidst our conversation on how I was spending my time, he asked me, “Wouldn’t your time be more valuable helping the winners in your portfolio than the others?”

And I told him, albeit a bit more defensively than I would have liked, “Our brand is determined by our winners. Our reputation is earned by helping everyone else.” One of my better ad hoc lines, if I say so myself.

But more so, and I might be naïve in saying so, I may not get the most number of hours for sleep a night, but I will say, when I hit the bunk, I have the best sleep out of anyone you might know. And I do so because I know I’ve meaningfully touched someone else’s life. And by extension of them, indirectly, a few others.

Just because most startups fail doesn’t make each of their endeavors any less important.

Malia Obama once asked her dad, our former president what’s the point in working on climate change if the difference is so miniscule. That the world is burning. And what can one person do?

To which, Obama said, “We may not be able to cap temperature rise to two degrees Centigrade. But here’s the thing. If we work really hard, we may be able to cap it at two and a half, instead of three. Or three instead of three and a half. That extra Centigrade… that might mean the difference between whether Bangladesh is underwater. It might make the difference as to whether 100 million people have to migrate or only a few.”

In the world of startups, which isn’t exclusive to our world by any means, there’s a saying that people love quoting. Aim for the stars; land on the moon. And regardless if you hit the stars or not, aiming for it gets you the escape velocity to be extraterrestrial. In other words, it’s not always about whether you hit your goals or not, but rather… it’s the pursuit of lofty goals that gets you further than if you didn’t try in the first place.

I’m reminded of a great line by Dr. Rick Rigsby quoting his dad. “Boys, I won’t have a problem if you aim high and miss, but I’m gonna have a real issue if you aim low and hit.”

So, in this week’s short dose of optimism, don’t aim low and hit. Stay awesome!

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #80 How I Balance Time

time, clock

A friend trapped in his own tumultuous schedule recently reached out to ask how I seemingly effortlessly manage my bandwidth. For starters, I try, but even I get swamped. And I’m sure people I’ve worked with closely can corroborate. So if anyone has a better way, I’m all ears.

That said, as I mentioned, I do try. And naturally, that means I think about balancing my plate a lot. From shower thoughts to systems to keep me accountable. I’m going to share below the four things I shared with him, in hopes you’ll find some use for your own life here.

  1. I have a whiteboard in my shower. (Although, you might remember I mentioned this before.) In a list format in the top right corner of the board, I write down everything I’m involved in, especially the ones that require my attention. This way, everything is always floating around somewhere in the back of head. And when I shower, I take the one I’m most excited about ideating and just let the kids run wild in the attic.
  2. I like asking myself the question: What would I do if I knew I would fail? And subsequently… what skills, relationships, and experiences can I gain that would transcend the outcome of the project itself? With those two questions, it helps to take the emotion out of the equation and consider it rationally. Which helps in arriving at a decision that I won’t regret. And naturally since I have a pretty high bar with what I choose to embark on, that does mean I say no to a lot of things.
  3. Work with people who are as passionate or more passionate than you are about the project or subject matter. You also want to work with people whose passion is independent of yours. For instance, if they’re only doing a project ’cause you’re excited about it, the lack of internal motivation, I’ve found, to be draining over time when I work with someone who isn’t intrinsically motivated to put in their all. It also ensures that if on an odd day out, I’m just 30% as motivated as I am usually, they come in with at least 70% of their motivation. And as long as the collective motivation at any given point in time is greater than 100%, we keep working on it.
  4. Lastly, I categorize activities and projects by how often something requires my attention. Some things require my attention daily. Others weekly. A handful of others biweekly. Or monthly. Or quarterly. A few annually (like taxes, ughhh). And at any given point in time, I will have no more than two items/projects per bucket. For instance, I will have no more than two pressing things that require my attention daily. And so yes, I’m context switching. But not nearly as much as one might think. The caveat is that when an activity becomes muscle memory and requires very little thinking to execute (i.e. exercise, brushing your teeth, showering, journaling, or so on for me), then that activity/project no longer counts toward its respective bucket.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #76 The Forcing Functions of Change

autumn, leaves changing, fall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Viola Davis

Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #75 Why I Write Long Form Blogposts

typewriter, blog, write

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

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

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

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

1. I write to think

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. Longer feedback loop

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

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

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

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

3. The impermanence of social media

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

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

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

Photo by Fiona Murray on Unsplash

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

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

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

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#unfiltered #74 What If Events Were Story Arcs?

castle, story, boat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Metrics for success

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

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

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

Narrative frameworks I use for events

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

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

In closing

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

Photo by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash

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

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

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

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