(This essay is derived from a keynote at FOWA in October 2007.)

There’s something interesting happening right now. Startups are undergoing the same transformation that technology does when it becomes cheaper.

It’s a pattern we see over and over in technology. Initially there’s some device that’s very expensive and made in small quantities. Then someone discovers how to make them cheaply; many more get built; and as a result they can be used in new ways.

Computers are a familiar example. When I was a kid, computers were big, expensive machines built one at a time. Now they’re a commodity. Now we can stick computers in everything.

This pattern is very old. Most of the turning points in economic history are instances of it. It happened to steel in the 1850s, and to power in the 1780s. It happened to cloth manufacture in the thirteenth century, generating the wealth that later brought about the Renaissance. Agriculture itself was an instance of this pattern.

Now as well as being produced by startups, this pattern is happening to startups. It’s so cheap to start web startups that orders of magnitudes more will be started. If the pattern holds true, that should cause dramatic changes.

1. Lots of Startups

So my first prediction about the future of web startups is pretty straightforward: there will be a lot of them. When starting a startup was expensive, you had to get the permission of investors to do it. Now the only threshold is courage.

Even that threshold is getting lower, as people watch others take the plunge and survive. In the last batch of startups we funded, we had several founders who said they’d thought of applying before, but weren’t sure and got jobs instead. It was only after hearing reports of friends who’d done it that they decided to try it themselves.

Starting a startup is hard, but having a 9 to 5 job is hard too, and in some ways a worse kind of hard. In a startup you have lots of worries, but you don’t have that feeling that your life is flying by like you do in a big company. Plus in a startup you could make much more money.

As word spreads that startups work, the number may grow to a point that would now seem surprising.

We now think of it as normal to have a job at a company, but this is the thinnest of historical veneers. Just two or three lifetimes ago, most people in what are now called industrialized countries lived by farming. So while it may seem surprising to propose that large numbers of people will change the way they make a living, it would be more surprising if they didn’t.

2. Standardization

When technology makes something dramatically cheaper, standardization always follows. When you make things in large volumes you tend to standardize everything that doesn’t need to change.

At Y Combinator we still only have four people, so we try to standardize everything. We could hire employees, but we want to be forced to figure out how to scale investing.

We often tell startups to release a minimal version one quickly, then let the needs of the users determine what to do next. In essense, let the market design the product. We’ve done the same thing ourselves. We think of the techniques we’re developing for dealing with large numbers of startups as like software. Sometimes it literally is software, like Hacker News and our application system.

One of the most important things we’ve been working on standardizing are investment terms. Till now investment terms have been individually negotiated. This is a problem for founders, because it makes raising money take longer and cost more in legal fees. So as well as using the same paperwork for every deal we do, we’ve commissioned generic angel paperwork that all the startups we fund can use for future rounds.

Some investors will still want to cook up their own deal terms. Series A rounds, where you raise a million dollars or more, will be custom deals for the forseeable future. But I think angel rounds will start to be done mostly with standardized agreements. An angel who wants to insert a bunch of complicated terms into the agreement is probably not one you want anyway.

3. New Attitude to Acquisition

Another thing I see starting to get standardized is acquisitions. As the volume of startups increases, big companies will start to develop standardized procedures that make acquisitions little more work than hiring someone.

Google is the leader here, as in so many areas of technology. They buy a lot of startups— more than most people realize, because they only announce a fraction of them. And being Google, they’re figuring out how to do it efficiently.

One problem they’ve solved is how to think about acquisitions. For most companies, acquisitions still carry some stigma of inadequacy. Companies do them because they have to, but there’s usually some feeling they shouldn’t have to—that their own programmers should be able to build everything they need.

Google’s example should cure the rest of the world of this idea. Google has by far the best programmers of any public technology company. If they don’t have a problem doing acquisitions, the others should have even less problem. However many Google does, Microsoft should do ten times as many.

One reason Google doesn’t have a problem with acquisitions is that they know first-hand the quality of the people they can get that way. Larry and Sergey only started Google after making the rounds of the search engines trying to sell their idea and finding no takers. They’ve been the guys coming in to visit the big company, so they know who might be sitting across that conference table from them.

4. Riskier Strategies are Possible

Risk is always proportionate to reward. The way to get really big returns is to do things that seem crazy, like starting a new search engine in 1998, or turning down a billion dollar acquisition offer.

This has traditionally been a problem in venture funding. Founders and investors have different attitudes to risk. Knowing that risk is on average proportionate to reward, investors like risky strategies, while founders, who don’t have a big enough sample size to care what’s true on average, tend to be more conservative.

If startups are easy to start, this conflict goes away, because founders can start them younger, when it’s rational to take more risk, and can start more startups total in their careers. When founders can do lots of startups, they can start to look at the world in the same portfolio-optimizing way as investors. And that means the overall amount of wealth created can be greater, because strategies can be riskier.

5. Younger, Nerdier Founders

If startups become a cheap commodity, more people will be able to have them, just as more people could have computers once microprocessors made them cheap. And in particular, younger and more technical founders will be able to start startups than could before.

Back when it cost a lot to start a startup, you had to convince investors to let you do it. And that required very different skills from actually doing the startup. If investors were perfect judges, the two would require exactly the same skills. But unfortunately most investors are terrible judges. I know because I see behind the scenes what an enormous amount of work it takes to raise money, and the amount of selling required in an industry is always inversely proportional to the judgement of the buyers.

Fortunately, if startups get cheaper to start, there’s another way to convince investors. Instead of going to venture capitalists with a business plan and trying to convince them to fund it, you can get a product launched on a few tens of thousands of dollars of seed money from us or your uncle, and approach them with a working company instead of a plan for one. Then instead of having to seem smooth and confident, you can just point them to Alexa.

This way of convincing investors is better suited to hackers, who often went into technology in part because they felt uncomfortable with the amount of fakeness required in other fields.

6. Startup Hubs Will Persist

It might seem that if startups get cheap to start, it will mean the end of startup hubs like Silicon Valley. If all you need to start a startup is rent money, you should be able to do it anywhere.

This is kind of true and kind of false. It’s true that you can now start a startup anywhere. But you have to do more with a startup than just start it. You have to make it succeed. And that is more likely to happen in a startup hub.

I’ve thought a lot about this question, and it seems to me the increasing cheapness of web startups will if anything increase the importance of startup hubs. The value of startup hubs, like centers for any kind of business, lies in something very old-fashioned: face to face meetings. No technology in the immediate future will replace walking down University Ave and running into a friend who tells you how to fix a bug that’s been bothering you all weekend, or visiting a friend’s startup down the street and ending up in a conversation with one of their investors.

The question of whether to be in a startup hub is like the question of whether to take outside investment. The question is not whether you need it, but whether it brings any advantage at all. Because anything that brings an advantage will give your competitors an advantage over you if they do it and you don’t. So if you hear someone saying “we don’t need to be in Silicon Valley,” that use of the word “need” is a sign they’re not even thinking about the question right.

And while startup hubs are as powerful magnets as ever, the increasing cheapness of starting a startup means the particles they’re attracting are getting lighter. A startup now can be just a pair of 22 year old guys. A company like that can move much more easily than one with 10 people, half of whom have kids.

We know because we make people move for Y Combinator, and it doesn’t seem to be a problem. The advantage of being able to work together face to face for three months outweighs the inconvenience of moving. Ask anyone who’s done it.

The mobility of seed-stage startups means that seed funding is a national business. One of the most common emails we get is from people asking if we can help them set up a local clone of Y Combinator. But this just wouldn’t work. Seed funding isn’t regional, just as big research universities aren’t.

Is seed funding not merely national, but international? Interesting question. There are signs it may be. We’ve had an ongoing stream of founders from outside the US, and they tend to do particularly well, because they’re all people who were so determined to succeed that they were willing to move to another country to do it.

The more mobile startups get, the harder it would be to start new silicon valleys. If startups are mobile, the best local talent will go to the real Silicon Valley, and all they’ll get at the local one will be the people who didn’t have the energy to move.

This is not a nationalistic idea, incidentally. It’s cities that compete, not countries. Atlanta is just as hosed as Munich.

7. Better Judgement Needed

If the number of startups increases dramatically, then the people whose job is to judge them are going to have to get better at it. I’m thinking particularly of investors and acquirers. We now get on the order of 1000 applications a year. What are we going to do if we get 10,000?

That’s actually an alarming idea. But we’ll figure out some kind of answer. We’ll have to. It will probably involve writing some software, but fortunately we can do that.

Acquirers will also have to get better at picking winners. They generally do better than investors, because they pick later, when there’s more performance to measure. But even at the most advanced acquirers, identifying companies to buy is extremely ad hoc, and completing the acquisition often involves a great deal of unneccessary friction.

I think acquirers may eventually have chief acquisition officers who will both identify good acquisitions and make the deals happen. At the moment those two functions are separate. Promising new startups are often discovered by developers. If someone powerful enough wants to buy them, the deal is handed over to corp dev guys to negotiate. It would be better if both were combined in one group, headed by someone with a technical background and some vision of what they wanted to accomplish. Maybe in the future big companies will have both a VP of Engineering responsible for technology developed in-house, and a CAO responsible for bringing technology in from outside.

At the moment, there is no one within big companies who gets in trouble when they buy a startup for $200 million that they could have bought earlier for $20 million. There should start to be someone who gets in trouble for that.

8. College Will Change

If the best hackers start their own companies after college instead of getting jobs, that will change what happens in college. Most of these changes will be for the better. I think the experience of college is warped in a bad way by the expectation that afterward you’ll be judged by potential employers.

One change will be in the meaning of “after college,” which will switch from when one graduates from college to when one leaves it. If you’re starting your own company, why do you need a degree? We don’t encourage people to start startups during college, but the best founders are certainly capable of it. Some of the most successful companies we’ve funded were started by undergrads.

I grew up in a time where college degrees seemed really important, so I’m alarmed to be saying things like this, but there’s nothing magical about a degree. There’s nothing that magically changes after you take that last exam. The importance of degrees is due solely to the administrative needs of large organizations. These can certainly affect your life—it’s hard to get into grad school, or to get a work visa in the US, without an undergraduate degree—but tests like this will matter less and less.

As well as mattering less whether students get degrees, it will also start to matter less where they go to college. In a startup you’re judged by users, and they don’t care where you went to college. So in a world of startups, elite universities will play less of a role as gatekeepers. In the US it’s a national scandal how easily children of rich parents game college admissions. But the way this problem ultimately gets solved may not be by reforming the universities but by going around them. We in the technology world are used to that sort of solution: you don’t beat the incumbents; you redefine the problem to make them irrelevant.

The greatest value of universities is not the brand name or perhaps even the classes so much as the people you meet. If it becomes common to start a startup after college, students may start trying to maximize this. Instead of focusing on getting internships at companies they want to work for, they may start to focus on working with other students they want as cofounders.

What students do in their classes will change too. Instead of trying to get good grades to impress future employers, students will try to learn things. We’re talking about some pretty dramatic changes here.

9. Lots of Competitors

If it gets easier to start a startup, it’s easier for competitors too. That doesn’t erase the advantage of increased cheapness, however. You’re not all playing a zero-sum game. There’s not some fixed number of startups that can succeed, regardless of how many are started.

In fact, I don’t think there’s any limit to the number of startups that could succeed. Startups succeed by creating wealth, which is the satisfaction of people’s desires. And people’s desires seem to be effectively infinite, at least in the short term.

What the increasing number of startups does mean is that you won’t be able to sit on a good idea. Other people have your idea, and they’ll be increasingly likely to do something about it.

10. Faster Advances

There’s a good side to that, at least for consumers of technology. If people get right to work implementing ideas instead of sitting on them, technology will evolve faster.

Some kinds of innovations happen a company at a time, like the punctuated equilibrium model of evolution. There are some kinds of ideas that are so threatening that it’s hard for big companies even to think of them. Look at what a hard time Microsoft is having discovering web apps. They’re like a character in a movie that everyone in the audience can see something bad is about to happen to, but who can’t see it himself. The big innovations that happen a company at a time will obviously happen faster if the rate of new companies increases.

But in fact there will be a double speed increase. People won’t wait as long to act on new ideas, but also those ideas will increasingly be developed within startups rather than big companies. Which means technology will evolve faster per company as well.

Big companies are just not a good place to make things happen fast. I talked recently to a founder whose startup had been acquired by a big company. He was a precise sort of guy, so he’d measured their productivity before and after. He counted lines of code, which can be a dubious measure, but in this case was meaningful because it was the same group of programmers. He found they were one thirteenth as productive after the acquisition.

The company that bought them was not a particularly stupid one. I think what he was measuring was mostly the cost of bigness. I experienced this myself, and his number sounds about right. There’s something about big companies that just sucks the energy out of you.

Imagine what all that energy could do if it were put to use. There is an enormous latent capacity in the world’s hackers that most people don’t even realize is there. That’s the main reason we do Y Combinator: to let loose all this energy by making it easy for hackers to start their own startups.

A Series of Tubes

The process of starting startups is currently like the plumbing in an old house. The pipes are narrow and twisty, and there are leaks in every joint. In the future this mess will gradually be replaced by a single, huge pipe. The water will still have to get from A to B, but it will get there faster and without the risk of spraying out through some random leak.

This will change a lot of things for the better. In a big, straight pipe like that, the force of being measured by one’s performance will propagate back through the whole system. Performance is always the ultimate test, but there are so many kinks in the plumbing now that most people are insulated from it most of the time. So you end up with a world in which high school students think they need to get good grades to get into elite colleges, and college students think they need to get good grades to impress employers, within which the employees waste most of their time in political battles, and from which consumers have to buy anyway because there are so few choices. Imagine if that sequence became a big, straight pipe. Then the effects of being measured by performance would propagate all the way back to high school, flushing out all the arbitrary stuff people are measured by now. That is the future of web startups.

Raising money is the second hardest part of starting a startup. The hardest part is making something people want: most startups that die, die because they didn’t do that. But the second biggest cause of death is probably the difficulty of raising money. Fundraising is brutal.

One reason it’s so brutal is simply the brutality of markets. People who’ve spent most of their lives in schools or big companies may not have been exposed to that. Professors and bosses usually feel some sense of responsibility toward you; if you make a valiant effort and fail, they’ll cut you a break. Markets are less forgiving. Customers don’t care how hard you worked, only whether you solved their problems.

Investors evaluate startups the way customers evaluate products, not the way bosses evaluate employees. If you’re making a valiant effort and failing, maybe they’ll invest in your next startup, but not this one.

But raising money from investors is harder than selling to customers, because there are so few of them. There’s nothing like an efficient market. You’re unlikely to have more than 10 who are interested; it’s difficult to talk to more. So the randomness of any one investor’s behavior can really affect you.

Problem number 3: investors are very random. All investors, including us, are by ordinary standards incompetent. We constantly have to make decisions about things we don’t understand, and more often than not we’re wrong.

And yet a lot is at stake. The amounts invested by different types of investors vary from five thousand dollars to fifty million, but the amount usually seems large for whatever type of investor it is. Investment decisions are big decisions.

That combination—making big decisions about things they don’t understand—tends to make investors very skittish. VCs are notorious for leading founders on. Some of the more unscrupulous do it deliberately. But even the most well-intentioned investors can behave in a way that would seem crazy in everyday life. One day they’re full of enthusiasm and seem ready to write you a check on the spot; the next they won’t return your phone calls. They’re not playing games with you. They just can’t make up their minds.

If that weren’t bad enough, these wildly fluctuating nodes are all linked together. Startup investors all know one another, and (though they hate to admit it) the biggest factor in their opinion of you is the opinion of other investors. Talk about a recipe for an unstable system. You get the opposite of the damping that the fear/greed balance usually produces in markets. No one is interested in a startup that’s a “bargain” because everyone else hates it.

So the inefficient market you get because there are so few players is exacerbated by the fact that they act less than independently. The result is a system like some kind of primitive, multi-celled sea creature, where you irritate one extremity and the whole thing contracts violently.

Y Combinator is working to fix this. We’re trying to increase the number of investors just as we’re increasing the number of startups. We hope that as the number of both increases we’ll get something more like an efficient market. As t approaches infinity, Demo Day approaches an auction.

Unfortunately, t is still very far from infinity. What does a startup do now, in the imperfect world we currently inhabit? The most important thing is not to let fundraising get you down. Startups live or die on morale. If you let the difficulty of raising money destroy your morale, it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Bootstrapping (= Consulting)

Some would-be founders may by now be thinking, why deal with investors at all? If raising money is so painful, why do it?

One answer to that is obvious: because you need money to live on. It’s a fine idea in principle to finance your startup with its own revenues, but you can’t create instant customers. Whatever you make, you have to sell a certain amount to break even. It will take time to grow your sales to that point, and it’s hard to predict, till you try, how long it will take.

We could not have bootstrapped Viaweb, for example. We charged quite a lot for our software—about $140 per user per month—but it was at least a year before our revenues would have covered even our paltry costs. We didn’t have enough saved to live on for a year.

If you factor out the “bootstrapped” companies that were actually funded by their founders through savings or a day job, the remainder either (a) got really lucky, which is hard to do on demand, or (b) began life as consulting companies and gradually transformed themselves into product companies.

Consulting is the only option you can count on. But consulting is far from free money. It’s not as painful as raising money from investors, perhaps, but the pain is spread over a longer period. Years, probably. And for many types of startup, that delay could be fatal. If you’re working on something so unusual that no one else is likely to think of it, you can take your time. Joshua Schachter gradually built Delicious on the side while working on Wall Street. He got away with it because no one else realized it was a good idea. But if you were building something as obviously necessary as online store software at about the same time as Viaweb, and you were working on it on the side while spending most of your time on client work, you were not in a good position.

Bootstrapping sounds great in principle, but this apparently verdant territory is one from which few startups emerge alive. The mere fact that bootstrapped startups tend to be famous on that account should set off alarm bells. If it worked so well, it would be the norm.

Bootstrapping may get easier, because starting a company is getting cheaper. But I don’t think we’ll ever reach the point where most startups can do without outside funding. Technology tends to get dramatically cheaper, but living expenses don’t.

The upshot is, you can choose your pain: either the short, sharp pain of raising money, or the chronic ache of consulting. For a given total amount of pain, raising money is the better choice, because new technology is usually more valuable now than later.

But although for most startups raising money will be the lesser evil, it’s still a pretty big evil—so big that it can easily kill you. Not merely in the obvious sense that if you fail to raise money you might have to shut the company down, but because the process of raising money itself can kill you.

To survive it you need a set of techniques mostly orthogonal to the ones used in convincing investors, just as mountain climbers need to know survival techniques that are mostly orthogonal to those used in physically getting up and down mountains.

1. Have low expectations.

The reason raising money destroys so many startups’ morale is not simply that it’s hard, but that it’s so much harder than they expected. What kills you is the disappointment. And the lower your expectations, the harder it is to be disappointed.

Startup founders tend to be optimistic. This can work well in technology, at least some of the time, but it’s the wrong way to approach raising money. Better to assume investors will always let you down. Acquirers too, while we’re at it. At YC one of our secondary mantras is “Deals fall through.” No matter what deal you have going on, assume it will fall through. The predictive power of this simple rule is amazing.

There will be a tendency, as a deal progresses, to start to believe it will happen, and then to depend on it happening. You must resist this. Tie yourself to the mast. This is what kills you. Deals do not have a trajectory like most other human interactions, where shared plans solidify linearly over time. Deals often fall through at the last moment. Often the other party doesn’t really think about what they want till the last moment. So you can’t use your everyday intuitions about shared plans as a guide. When it comes to deals, you have to consciously turn them off and become pathologically cynical.

This is harder to do than it sounds. It’s very flattering when eminent investors seem interested in funding you. It’s easy to start to believe that raising money will be quick and straightforward. But it hardly ever is.

2. Keep working on your startup.

It sounds obvious to say that you should keep working on your startup while raising money. Actually this is hard to do. Most startups don’t manage to.

Raising money has a mysterious capacity to suck up all your attention. Even if you only have one meeting a day with investors, somehow that one meeting will burn up your whole day. It costs not just the time of the actual meeting, but the time getting there and back, and the time preparing for it beforehand and thinking about it afterward.

The best way to survive the distraction of meeting with investors is probably to partition the company: to pick one founder to deal with investors while the others keep the company going. This works better when a startup has 3 founders than 2, and better when the leader of the company is not also the lead developer. In the best case, the company keeps moving forward at about half speed.

That’s the best case, though. More often than not the company comes to a standstill while raising money. And that is dangerous for so many reasons. Raising money always takes longer than you expect. What seems like it’s going to be a 2 week interruption turns into a 4 month interruption. That can be very demoralizing. And worse still, it can make you less attractive to investors. They want to invest in companies that are dynamic. A company that hasn’t done anything new in 4 months doesn’t seem dynamic, so they start to lose interest. Investors rarely grasp this, but much of what they’re responding to when they lose interest in a startup is the damage done by their own indecision.

The solution: put the startup first. Fit meetings with investors into the spare moments in your development schedule, rather than doing development in the spare moments between meetings with investors. If you keep the company moving forward—releasing new features, increasing traffic, doing deals, getting written about—those investor meetings are more likely to be productive. Not just because your startup will seem more alive, but also because it will be better for your own morale, which is one of the main ways investors judge you.

3. Be conservative.

As conditions get worse, the optimal strategy becomes more conservative. When things go well you can take risks; when things are bad you want to play it safe.

I advise approaching fundraising as if it were always going badly. The reason is that between your ability to delude yourself and the wildly unstable nature of the system you’re dealing with, things probably either already are or could easily become much worse than they seem.

What I tell most startups we fund is that if someone reputable offers you funding on reasonable terms, take it. There have been startups that ignored this advice and got away with it—startups that ignored a good offer in the hope of getting a better one, and actually did. But in the same position I’d give the same advice again. Who knows how many bullets were in the gun they were playing Russian roulette with?

Corollary: if an investor seems interested, don’t just let them sit. You can’t assume someone interested in investing will stay interested. In fact, you can’t even tell (they can’t even tell) if they’re really interested till you try to convert that interest into money. So if you have hot prospect, either close them now or write them off. And unless you already have enough funding, that reduces to: close them now.

Startups don’t win by getting great funding rounds, but by making great products. So finish raising money and get back to work.

4. Be flexible.

There are two questions VCs ask that you shouldn’t answer: “Who else are you talking to?” and “How much are you trying to raise?”

VCs don’t expect you to answer the first question. They ask it just in case. They do seem to expect an answer to the second. But I don’t think you should just tell them a number. Not as a way to play games with them, but because you shouldn’t have a fixed amount you need to raise.

The custom of a startup needing a fixed amount of funding is an obsolete one left over from the days when startups were more expensive. A company that needed to build a factory or hire 50 people obviously needed to raise a certain minimum amount. But few technology startups are in that position today.

We advise startups to tell investors there are several different routes they could take depending on how much they raised. As little as $50k could pay for food and rent for the founders for a year. A couple hundred thousand would let them get office space and hire some smart people they know from school. A couple million would let them really blow this thing out. The message (and not just the message, but the fact) should be: we’re going to succeed no matter what. Raising more money just lets us do it faster.

If you’re raising an angel round, the size of the round can even change on the fly. In fact, it’s just as well to make the round small initially, then expand as needed, rather than trying to raise a large round and risk losing the investors you already have if you can’t raise the full amount. You may even want to do a “rolling close,” where the round has no predetermined size, but instead you sell stock to investors one at a time as they say yes. That helps break deadlocks, because you can start as soon as the first one is ready to buy. [5]

5. Be independent.

A startup with a couple founders in their early twenties can have expenses so low that they could be profitable on as little as $2000 per month. That’s negligible as corporate revenues go, but the effect on your morale and your bargaining position is anything but. At YC we use the phrase “ramen profitable” to describe the situation where you’re making just enough to pay your living expenses. Once you cross into ramen profitable, everything changes. You may still need investment to make it big, but you don’t need it this month.

You can’t plan when you start a startup how long it will take to become profitable. But if you find yourself in a position where a little more effort expended on sales would carry you over the threshold of ramen profitable, do it.

Investors like it when you’re ramen profitable. It shows you’ve thought about making money, instead of just working on amusing technical problems; it shows you have the discipline to keep your expenses low; but above all, it means you don’t need them.

There is nothing investors like more than a startup that seems like it’s going to succeed even without them. Investors like it when they can help a startup, but they don’t like startups that would die without that help.

At YC we spend a lot of time trying to predict how the startups we’ve funded will do, because we’re trying to learn how to pick winners. We’ve now watched the trajectories of so many startups that we’re getting better at predicting them. And when we’re talking about startups we think are likely to succeed, what we find ourselves saying is things like “Oh, those guys can take care of themselves. They’ll be fine.” Not “those guys are really smart” or “those guys are working on a great idea.”  When we predict good outcomes for startups, the qualities that come up in the supporting arguments are toughness, adaptability, determination. Which means to the extent we’re correct, those are the qualities you need to win.

Investors know this, at least unconsciously. The reason they like it when you don’t need them is not simply that they like what they can’t have, but because that quality is what makes founders succeed.

Sam Altman has it. You could parachute him into an island full of cannibals and come back in 5 years and he’d be the king. If you’re Sam Altman, you don’t have to be profitable to convey to investors that you’ll succeed with or without them. (He wasn’t, and he did.) Not everyone has Sam’s deal-making ability. I myself don’t. But if you don’t, you can let the numbers speak for you.

6. Don’t take rejection personally.

Getting rejected by investors can make you start to doubt yourself. After all, they’re more experienced than you. If they think your startup is lame, aren’t they probably right?

Maybe, maybe not. The way to handle rejection is with precision. You shouldn’t simply ignore rejection. It might mean something. But you shouldn’t automatically get demoralized either.

To understand what rejection means, you have to understand first of all how common it is. Statistically, the average VC is a rejection machine. David Hornik, a partner at August, told me:

The numbers for me ended up being something like 500 to 800 plans received and read, somewhere between 50 and 100 initial 1 hour meetings held, about 20 companies that I got interested in, about 5 that I got serious about and did a bunch of work, 1 to 2 deals done in a year. So the odds are against you. You may be a great entrepreneur, working on interesting stuff, etc. but it is still incredibly unlikely that you get funded.

This is less true with angels, but VCs reject practically everyone. The structure of their business means a partner does at most 2 new investments a year, no matter how many good startups approach him.

In addition to the odds being terrible, the average investor is, as I mentioned, a pretty bad judge of startups. It’s harder to judge startups than most other things, because great startup ideas tend to seem wrong. A good startup idea has to be not just good but novel. And to be both good and novel, an idea probably has to seem bad to most people, or someone would already be doing it and it wouldn’t be novel.

That makes judging startups harder than most other things one judges. You have to be an intellectual contrarian to be a good startup investor. That’s a problem for VCs, most of whom are not particularly imaginative. VCs are mostly money guys, not people who make things. [7] Angels are better at appreciating novel ideas, because most were founders themselves.

So when you get a rejection, use the data that’s in it, and not what’s not. If an investor gives you specific reasons for not investing, look at your startup and ask if they’re right. If they’re real problems, fix them. But don’t just take their word for it. You’re supposed to be the domain expert; you have to decide.

Though a rejection doesn’t necessarily tell you anything about your startup, it does suggest your pitch could be improved. Figure out what’s not working and change it. Don’t just think “investors are stupid.” Often they are, but figure out precisely where you lose them.

Don’t let rejections pile up as a depressing, undifferentiated heap. Sort them and analyze them, and then instead of thinking “no one likes us,” you’ll know precisely how big a problem you have, and what to do about it.

7. Be able to downshift into consulting (if appropriate).

Consulting, as I mentioned, is a dangerous way to finance a startup. But it’s better than dying. It’s a bit like anaerobic respiration: not the optimum solution for the long term, but it can save you from an immediate threat. If you’re having trouble raising money from investors at all, it could save you to be able to shift toward consulting.

This works better for some startups than others. It wouldn’t have been a natural fit for, say, Google, but if your company was making software for building web sites, you could degrade fairly gracefully into consulting by building sites for clients with it.

So long as you were careful not to get sucked permanently into consulting, this could even have advantages. You’d understand your users well if you were using the software for them. Plus as a consulting company you might be able to get big-name users using your software that you wouldn’t have gotten as a product company.

At Viaweb we were forced to operate like a consulting company initially, because we were so desperate for users that we’d offer to build merchants’ sites for them if they’d sign up. But we never charged for such work, because we didn’t want them to start treating us like actual consultants, and calling us every time they wanted something changed on their site. We knew we had to stay a product company, because only that scales.

8. Avoid inexperienced investors.

Though novice investors seem unthreatening they can be the most dangerous sort, because they’re so nervous. Especially in proportion to the amount they invest. Raising $20,000 from a first-time angel investor can be as much work as raising $2 million from a VC fund.

Their lawyers are generally inexperienced too. But while the investors can admit they don’t know what they’re doing, their lawyers can’t. One YC startup negotiated terms for a tiny round with an angel, only to receive a 70-page agreement from his lawyer. And since the lawyer could never admit, in front of his client, that he’d screwed up, he instead had to insist on retaining all the draconian terms in it, so the deal fell through.

Of course, someone has to take money from novice investors, or there would never be any experienced ones. But if you do, either (a) drive the process yourself, including supplying the paperwork, or (b) use them only to fill up a larger round led by someone else.

9. Know where you stand.

The most dangerous thing about investors is their indecisiveness. The worst case scenario is the long no, the no that comes after months of meetings. Rejections from investors are like design flaws: inevitable, but much less costly if you discover them early.

So while you’re talking to investors, constantly look for signs of where you stand. How likely are they to offer you a term sheet? What do they have to be convinced of first? You shouldn’t necessarily always be asking these questions outright—that could get annoying—but you should always be collecting data about them.

Investors tend to resist committing except to the extent you push them to. It’s in their interest to collect the maximum amount of information while making the minimum number of decisions. The best way to force them to act is, of course, competing investors. But you can also apply some force by focusing the discussion: by asking what specific questions they need answered to make up their minds, and then answering them. If you get through several obstacles and they keep raising new ones, assume that ultimately they’re going to flake.

You have to be disciplined when collecting data about investors’ intentions. Otherwise their desire to lead you on will combine with your own desire to be led on to produce completely inaccurate impressions.

Use the data to weight your strategy. You’ll probably be talking to several investors. Focus on the ones that are most likely to say yes. The value of a potential investor is a combination of how good it would be if they said yes, and how likely they are to say it. Put the most weight on the second factor. Partly because the most important quality in an investor is simply investing. But also because, as I mentioned, the biggest factor in investors’ opinion of you is other investors’ opinion of you. If you’re talking to several investors and you manage to get one over the threshold of saying yes, it will make the others much more interested. So you’re not sacrificing the lukewarm investors if you focus on the hot ones; convincing the hot investors is the best way to convince the lukewarm ones.

Future

I’m hopeful things won’t always be so awkward. I hope that as startups get cheaper and the number of investors increases, raising money will become, if not easy, at least straightforward.

In the meantime, the brokenness of the funding process offers a big opportunity. Most investors have no idea how dangerous they are. They’d be surprised to hear that raising money from them is something that has to be treated as a threat to a company’s survival. They just think they need a little more information to make up their minds. They don’t get that there are 10 other investors who also want a little more information, and that the process of talking to them all can bring a startup to a standstill for months.

Because investors don’t understand the cost of dealing with them, they don’t realize how much room there is for a potential competitor to undercut them. I know from my own experience how much faster investors could decide, because we’ve brought our own time down to 20 minutes (5 minutes of reading an application plus a 10 minute interview plus 5 minutes of discussion). If you were investing more money you’d want to take longer, of course. But if we can decide in 20 minutes, should it take anyone longer than a couple days?

Opportunities like this don’t sit unexploited forever, even in an industry as conservative as venture capital. So either existing investors will start to make up their minds faster, or new investors will emerge who do.

In the meantime founders have to treat raising money as a dangerous process. Fortunately, I can fix the biggest danger right here. The biggest danger is surprise. It’s that startups will underestimate the difficulty of raising money—that they’ll cruise through all the initial steps, but when they turn to raising money they’ll find it surprisingly hard, get demoralized, and give up. So I’m telling you in advance: raising money is hard.

Notes

[] When investors can’t make up their minds, they sometimes describe it as if it were a property of the startup. “You’re too early for us,” they sometimes say. But which of them, if they were taken back in a time machine to the hour Google was founded, wouldn’t offer to invest at any valuation the founders chose? An hour old is not too early if it’s the right startup. What “you’re too early” really means is “we can’t figure out yet whether you’ll succeed.”

[] Investors influence one another both directly and indirectly. They influence one another directly through the “buzz” that surrounds a hot startup. But they also influence one another indirectly through the founders. When a lot of investors are interested in you, it increases your confidence in a way that makes you much more attractive to investors.

No VC will admit they’re influenced by buzz. Some genuinely aren’t. But there are few who can say they’re not influenced by confidence.

[] One VC who read this essay wrote:

“We try to avoid companies that got bootstrapped with consulting. It creates very bad behaviors/instincts that are hard to erase from a company’s culture.”

[] The optimal way to answer the first question is to say that it would be improper to name names, while simultaneously implying that you’re talking to a bunch of other VCs who are all about to give you term sheets. If you’re the sort of person who understands how to do that, go ahead. If not, don’t even try. Nothing annoys VCs more than clumsy efforts to manipulate them.

[] The disadvantage of expanding a round on the fly is that the valuation is fixed at the start, so if you get a sudden rush of interest, you may have to decide between turning some investors away and selling more of the company than you meant to. That’s a good problem to have, however.

[] I wouldn’t say that intelligence doesn’t matter in startups. We’re only comparing YC startups, who’ve already made it over a certain threshold.

[] But not all are. Though most VCs are suits at heart, the most successful ones tend not to be. Oddly enough, the best VCs tend to be the least VC-like.

After watching a recent Q & A after a recent talk, someone asked what made startups fail. After standing there gaping for a few seconds I realized this was kind of a trick question. It’s equivalent to asking how to make a startup succeed—if you avoid every cause of failure, you succeed—and that’s too big a question to answer on the fly.

Afterwards I realized it could be helpful to look at the problem from this direction. If you have a list of all the things you shouldn’t do, you can turn that into a recipe for succeeding just by negating. And this form of list may be more useful in practice. It’s easier to catch yourself doing something you shouldn’t than always to remember to do something you should.

In a sense there’s just one mistake that kills startups: not making something users want. If you make something users want, you’ll probably be fine, whatever else you do or don’t do. And if you don’t make something users want, then you’re dead, whatever else you do or don’t do. So really this is a list of 18 things that cause startups not to make something users want. Nearly all failure funnels through that.

1. Single Founder

Have you ever noticed how few successful startups were founded by just one person? Even companies you think of as having one founder, like Oracle, usually turn out to have more. It seems unlikely this is a coincidence.

What’s wrong with having one founder? To start with, it’s a vote of no confidence. It probably means the founder couldn’t talk any of his friends into starting the company with him. That’s pretty alarming, because his friends are the ones who know him best.

But even if the founder’s friends were all wrong and the company is a good bet, he’s still at a disadvantage. Starting a startup is too hard for one person. Even if you could do all the work yourself, you need colleagues to brainstorm with, to talk you out of stupid decisions, and to cheer you up when things go wrong.

The last one might be the most important. The low points in a startup are so low that few could bear them alone. When you have multiple founders, esprit de corps binds them together in a way that seems to violate conservation laws. Each thinks “I can’t let my friends down.” This is one of the most powerful forces in human nature, and it’s missing when there’s just one founder.

2. Bad Location

Startups prosper in some places and not others. Silicon Valley dominates, then Bangalore, then Mumbai, Hyderabad, and Pune. After that there’s not much. Even in Mumbai the number of startups per capita is probably a 20th of what it is in Bangalore. In towns like Pune and Hyderabad it’s too small to measure.

Why is the falloff so sharp? Probably for the same reason it is in other industries. What’s the sixth largest fashion center in India? The sixth largest center for oil, or finance, or publishing? Whatever they are they’re probably so far from the top that it would be misleading even to call them centers.

It’s an interesting question why cities become startup hubs, but the reason startups prosper in them is probably the same as it is for any industry: that’s where the experts are. Standards are higher; people are more sympathetic to what you’re doing; the kind of people you want to hire want to live there; supporting industries are there; the people you run into in chance meetings are in the same business.

3. Marginal Niche

Most of the groups that apply to Y Combinator suffer from a common problem: choosing a small, obscure niche in the hope of avoiding competition.

If you watch little kids playing sports, you notice that below a certain age they’re afraid of the ball. When the ball comes near them their instinct is to avoid it. I didn’t make a lot of catches as an eight year old outfielder, because whenever a fly ball came my way, I used to close my eyes and hold my glove up more for protection than in the hope of catching it.

Choosing a marginal project is the startup equivalent of my eight year old strategy for dealing with fly balls. If you make anything good, you’re going to have competitors, so you may as well face that. You can only avoid competition by avoiding good ideas.

I think this shrinking from big problems is mostly unconscious. It’s not that people think of grand ideas but decide to pursue smaller ones because they seem safer. Your unconscious won’t even let you think of grand ideas. So the solution may be to think about ideas without involving yourself. What would be a great idea for someone else to do as a startup?

4. Derivative Idea

Many of the applications we get are imitations of some existing company. That’s one source of ideas, but not the best. If you look at the origins of successful startups, few were started in imitation of some other startup. Where did they get their ideas? Usually from some specific, unsolved problem the founders identified.

Our startup made software for making online stores. When we started it, there wasn’t any; the few sites you could order from were hand-made at great expense by web consultants. We knew that if online shopping ever took off, these sites would have to be generated by software, so we wrote some. Pretty straightforward.

It seems like the best problems to solve are ones that affect you personally. Apple happened because Steve Wozniak wanted a computer, Google because Larry and Sergey couldn’t find stuff online, Hotmail because Sabeer Bhatia and Jack Smith couldn’t exchange email at work.

So instead of copying the Facebook, with some variation that the Facebook rightly ignored, look for ideas from the other direction. Instead of starting from companies and working back to the problems they solved, look for problems and imagine the company that might solve them. What do people complain about? What do you wish there was?

5. Obstinacy

In some fields the way to succeed is to have a vision of what you want to achieve, and to hold true to it no matter what setbacks you encounter. Starting startups is not one of them. The stick-to-your-vision approach works for something like winning an Olympic gold medal, where the problem is well-defined. Startups are more like science, where you need to follow the trail wherever it leads.

So don’t get too attached to your original plan, because it’s probably wrong. Most successful startups end up doing something different than they originally intended—often so different that it doesn’t even seem like the same company. You have to be prepared to see the better idea when it arrives. And the hardest part of that is often discarding your old idea.

But openness to new ideas has to be tuned just right. Switching to a new idea every week will be equally fatal. Is there some kind of external test you can use? One is to ask whether the ideas represent some kind of progression. If in each new idea you’re able to re-use most of what you built for the previous ones, then you’re probably in a process that converges. Whereas if you keep restarting from scratch, that’s a bad sign.

Fortunately there’s someone you can ask for advice: your users. If you’re thinking about turning in some new direction and your users seem excited about it, it’s probably a good bet.

6. Hiring Bad Programmers

I forgot to include this in the early versions of the list, because nearly all the founders I know are programmers. This is not a serious problem for them. They might accidentally hire someone bad, but it’s not going to kill the company. In a pinch they can do whatever’s required themselves.

But when I think about what killed most of the startups in the e-commerce business back in the 90s, it was bad programmers. A lot of those companies were started by business guys who thought the way startups worked was that you had some clever idea and then hired programmers to implement it. That’s actually much harder than it sounds—almost impossibly hard in fact—because business guys can’t tell which are the good programmers. They don’t even get a shot at the best ones, because no one really good wants a job implementing the vision of a business guy.

In practice what happens is that the business guys choose people they think are good programmers (it says here on his resume that he’s a Microsoft Certified Developer) but who aren’t. Then they’re mystified to find that their startup lumbers along like a World War II bomber while their competitors scream past like jet fighters. This kind of startup is in the same position as a big company, but without the advantages.

So how do you pick good programmers if you’re not a programmer? I don’t think there’s an answer. I was about to say you’d have to find a good programmer to help you hire people. But if you can’t recognize good programmers, how would you even do that?

7. Choosing the Wrong Platform

A related problem (since it tends to be done by bad programmers) is choosing the wrong platform. For example, I think a lot of startups during the Bubble killed themselves by deciding to build server-based applications on Windows. Hotmail was still running on FreeBSD for years after Microsoft bought it, presumably because Windows couldn’t handle the load. If Hotmail’s founders had chosen to use Windows, they would have been swamped.

PayPal only just dodged this bullet. After they merged with X.com, the new CEO wanted to switch to Windows—even after PayPal cofounder Max Levchin showed that their software scaled only 1% as well on Windows as Unix. Fortunately for PayPal they switched CEOs instead.

Platform is a vague word. It could mean an operating system, or a programming language, or a “framework” built on top of a programming language. It implies something that both supports and limits, like the foundation of a house.

The scary thing about platforms is that there are always some that seem to outsiders to be fine, responsible choices and yet, like Windows in the 90s, will destroy you if you choose them. Java applets were probably the most spectacular example. This was supposed to be the new way of delivering applications. Presumably it killed just about 100% of the startups who believed that.

How do you pick the right platforms? The usual way is to hire good programmers and let them choose. But there is a trick you could use if you’re not a programmer: visit a top computer science department and see what they use in research projects.

8. Slowness in Launching

Companies of all sizes have a hard time getting software done. It’s intrinsic to the medium; software is always 85% done. It takes an effort of will to push through this and get something released to users.

Startups make all kinds of excuses for delaying their launch. Most are equivalent to the ones people use for procrastinating in everyday life. There’s something that needs to happen first. Maybe. But if the software were 100% finished and ready to launch at the push of a button, would they still be waiting?

One reason to launch quickly is that it forces you to actuallyfinish some quantum of work. Nothing is truly finished till it’s released; you can see that from the rush of work that’s always involved in releasing anything, no matter how finished you thought it was. The other reason you need to launch is that it’s only by bouncing your idea off users that you fully understand it.

Several distinct problems manifest themselves as delays in launching: working too slowly; not truly understanding the problem; fear of having to deal with users; fear of being judged; working on too many different things; excessive perfectionism. Fortunately you can combat all of them by the simple expedient of forcing yourself to launch somethingfairly quickly.

9. Launching Too Early

Launching too slowly has probably killed a hundred times more startups than launching too fast, but it is possible to launch too fast. The danger here is that you ruin your reputation. You launch something, the early adopters try it out, and if it’s no good they may never come back.

So what’s the minimum you need to launch? We suggest startups think about what they plan to do, identify a core that’s both (a) useful on its own and (b) something that can be incrementally expanded into the whole project, and then get that done as soon as possible.

This is the same approach I (and many other programmers) use for writing software. Think about the overall goal, then start by writing the smallest subset of it that does anything useful. If it’s a subset, you’ll have to write it anyway, so in the worst case you won’t be wasting your time. But more likely you’ll find that implementing a working subset is both good for morale and helps you see more clearly what the rest should do.

The early adopters you need to impress are fairly tolerant. They don’t expect a newly launched product to do everything; it just has to do something.

10. Having No Specific User in Mind

You can’t build things users like without understanding them. I mentioned earlier that the most successful startups seem to have begun by trying to solve a problem their founders had. Perhaps there’s a rule here: perhaps you create wealth in proportion to how well you understand the problem you’re solving, and the problems you understand best are your own.[4]

That’s just a theory. What’s not a theory is the converse: if you’re trying to solve problems you don’t understand, you’re hosed.

And yet a surprising number of founders seem willing to assume that someone, they’re not sure exactly who, will want what they’re building. Do the founders want it? No, they’re not the target market. Who is? Teenagers. People interested in local events (that one is a perennial tarpit). Or “business” users. What business users? Gas stations? Movie studios? Defense contractors?

You can of course build something for users other than yourself. We did. But you should realize you’re stepping into dangerous territory. You’re flying on instruments, in effect, so you should (a) consciously shift gears, instead of assuming you can rely on your intuitions as you ordinarily would, and (b) look at the instruments.

In this case the instruments are the users. When designing for other people you have to be empirical. You can no longer guess what will work; you have to find users and measure their responses. So if you’re going to make something for teenagers or “business” users or some other group that doesn’t include you, you have to be able to talk some specific ones into using what you’re making. If you can’t, you’re on the wrong track.

11. Raising Too Little Money

Most successful startups take funding at some point. Like having more than one founder, it seems a good bet statistically. How much should you take, though?

Startup funding is measured in time. Every startup that isn’t profitable (meaning nearly all of them, initially) has a certain amount of time left before the money runs out and they have to stop. This is sometimes referred to as runway, as in “How much runway do you have left?” It’s a good metaphor because it reminds you that when the money runs out you’re going to be airborne or dead.

Too little money means not enough to get airborne. What airborne means depends on the situation. Usually you have to advance to a visibly higher level: if all you have is an idea, a working prototype; if you have a prototype, launching; if you’re launched, significant growth. It depends on investors, because until you’re profitable that’s who you have to convince.

So if you take money from investors, you have to take enough to get to the next step, whatever that is. [5]Fortunately you have some control over both how much you spend and what the next step is. We advise startups to set both low, initially: spend practically nothing, and make your initial goal simply to build a solid prototype. This gives you maximum flexibility.

12. Spending Too Much

It’s hard to distinguish spending too much from raising too little. If you run out of money, you could say either was the cause. The only way to decide which to call it is by comparison with other startups. If you raised five million and ran out of money, you probably spent too much.

Burning through too much money is not as common as it used to be. Founders seem to have learned that lesson. Plus it keeps getting cheaper to start a startup. So as of this writing few startups spend too much. None of the ones we’ve funded have. (And not just because we make small investments; many have gone on to raise further rounds.)

The classic way to burn through cash is by hiring a lot of people. This bites you twice: in addition to increasing your costs, it slows you down—so money that’s getting consumed faster has to last longer. Most hackers understand why that happens; Fred Brooks explained it in The Mythical Man-Month.

We have three general suggestions about hiring: (a) don’t do it if you can avoid it, (b) pay people with equity rather than salary, not just to save money, but because you want the kind of people who are committed enough to prefer that, and (c) only hire people who are either going to write code or go out and get users, because those are the only things you need at first.

13. Raising Too Much Money

It’s obvious how too little money could kill you, but is there such a thing as having too much?

Yes and no. The problem is not so much the money itself as what comes with it. As one VC who spoke at Y Combinator said, “Once you take several million dollars of my money, the clock is ticking.” If VCs fund you, they’re not going to let you just put the money in the bank and keep operating as two guys living on ramen. They want that money to go to work. At the very least you’ll move into proper office space and hire more people. That will change the atmosphere, and not entirely for the better. Now most of your people will be employees rather than founders. They won’t be as committed; they’ll need to be told what to do; they’ll start to engage in office politics.

When you raise a lot of money, your company moves to the suburbs and has kids.

Perhaps more dangerously, once you take a lot of money it gets harder to change direction. Suppose your initial plan was to sell something to companies. After taking VC money you hire a sales force to do that. What happens now if you realize you should be making this for consumers instead of businesses? That’s a completely different kind of selling. What happens, in practice, is that you don’t realize that. The more people you have, the more you stay pointed in the same direction.

Another drawback of large investments is the time they take. The time required to raise money grows with the amount. When the amount rises into the millions, investors get very cautious. VCs never quite say yes or no; they just engage you in an apparently endless conversation. Raising VC scale investments is thus a huge time sink—more work, probably, than the startup itself. And you don’t want to be spending all your time talking to investors while your competitors are spending theirs building things.

We advise founders who go on to seek VC money to take the first reasonable deal they get. If you get an offer from a reputable firm at a reasonable valuation with no unusually onerous terms, just take it and get on with building the company. Who cares if you could get a 30% better deal elsewhere? Economically, startups are an all-or-nothing game. Bargain-hunting among investors is a waste of time.

14. Poor Investor Management

As a founder, you have to manage your investors. You shouldn’t ignore them, because they may have useful insights. But neither should you let them run the company. That’s supposed to be your job. If investors had sufficient vision to run the companies they fund, why didn’t they start them?

Pissing off investors by ignoring them is probably less dangerous than caving in to them. In our startup, we erred on the ignoring side. A lot of our energy got drained away in disputes with investors instead of going into the product. But this was less costly than giving in, which would probably have destroyed the company. If the founders know what they’re doing, it’s better to have half their attention focused on the product than the full attention of investors who don’t.

How hard you have to work on managing investors usually depends on how much money you’ve taken. When you raise VC-scale money, the investors get a great deal of control. If they have a board majority, they’re literally your bosses. In the more common case, where founders and investors are equally represented and the deciding vote is cast by neutral outside directors, all the investors have to do is convince the outside directors and they control the company.

If things go well, this shouldn’t matter. So long as you seem to be advancing rapidly, most investors will leave you alone. But things don’t always go smoothly in startups. Investors have made trouble even for the most successful companies. One of the most famous examples is Apple, whose board made a nearly fatal blunder in firing Steve Jobs. Apparently even Google got a lot of grief from their investors early on.

15. Sacrificing Users to (Supposed) Profit

When I said at the beginning that if you make something users want, you’ll be fine, you may have noticed I didn’t mention anything about having the right business model. That’s not because making money is unimportant. I’m not suggesting that founders start companies with no chance of making money in the hope of unloading them before they tank. The reason we tell founders not to worry about the business model initially is that making something people want is so much harder.

I don’t know why it’s so hard to make something people want. It seems like it should be straightforward. But you can tell it must be hard by how few startups do it.

Because making something people want is so much harder than making money from it, you should leave business models for later, just as you’d leave some trivial but messy feature for version 2. In version 1, solve the core problem. And the core problem in a startup is how to create wealth (= how much people want something x the number who want it), not how to convert that wealth into money.

The companies that win are the ones that put users first. Google, for example. They made search work, then worried about how to make money from it. And yet some startup founders still think it’s irresponsible not to focus on the business model from the beginning. They’re often encouraged in this by investors whose experience comes from less malleable industries.

It is irresponsible not to think about business models. It’s just ten times more irresponsible not to think about the product.

16. Not Wanting to Get Your Hands Dirty

Nearly all programmers would rather spend their time writing code and have someone else handle the messy business of extracting money from it. And not just the lazy ones. Larry and Sergey apparently felt this way too at first. After developing their new search algorithm, the first thing they tried was to get some other company to buy it.

Start a company? Yech. Most hackers would rather just have ideas. But as Larry and Sergey found, there’s not much of a market for ideas. No one trusts an idea till you embody it in a product and use that to grow a user base. Then they’ll pay big time.

Maybe this will change, but I doubt it will change much. There’s nothing like users for convincing acquirers. It’s not just that the risk is decreased. The acquirers are human, and they have a hard time paying a bunch of young guys millions of dollars just for being clever. When the idea is embodied in a company with a lot of users, they can tell themselves they’re buying the users rather than the cleverness, and this is easier for them to swallow.

If you’re going to attract users, you’ll probably have to get up from your computer and go find some. It’s unpleasant work, but if you can make yourself do it you have a much greater chance of succeeding. In the first batch of startups we funded, in the summer of 2005, most of the founders spent all their time building their applications. But there was one who was away half the time talking to executives at cell phone companies, trying to arrange deals. Can you imagine anything more painful for a hacker? But it paid off, because this startup seems the most successful of that group by an order of magnitude.

If you want to start a startup, you have to face the fact that you can’t just hack. At least one hacker will have to spend some of the time doing business stuff.

17. Fights Between Founders

Fights between founders are surprisingly common. About 20% of the startups we’ve funded have had a founder leave. It happens so often that we’ve reversed our attitude to vesting. We still don’t require it, but now we advise founders to vest so there will be an orderly way for people to quit.

A founder leaving doesn’t necessarily kill a startup, though. Plenty of successful startups have had that happen. Fortunately it’s usually the least committed founder who leaves. If there are three founders and one who was lukewarm leaves, big deal. If you have two and one leaves, or a guy with critical technical skills leaves, that’s more of a problem. But even that is survivable. Blogger got down to one person, and they bounced back.

Most of the disputes I’ve seen between founders could have been avoided if they’d been more careful about who they started a company with. Most disputes are not due to the situation but the people. Which means they’re inevitable. And most founders who’ve been burned by such disputes probably had misgivings, which they suppressed, when they started the company. Don’t suppress misgivings. It’s much easier to fix problems before the company is started than after. So don’t include your housemate in your startup because he’d feel left out otherwise. Don’t start a company with someone you dislike because they have some skill you need and you worry you won’t find anyone else. The people are the most important ingredient in a startup, so don’t compromise there.

18. A Half-Hearted Effort

The failed startups you hear most about are the spectactular flameouts. Those are actually the elite of failures. The most common type is not the one that makes spectacular mistakes, but the one that doesn’t do much of anything—the one we never even hear about, because it was some project a couple guys started on the side while working on their day jobs, but which never got anywhere and was gradually abandoned.

Statistically, if you want to avoid failure, it would seem like the most important thing is to quit your day job. Most founders of failed startups don’t quit their day jobs, and most founders of successful ones do. If startup failure were a disease, the CDC would be issuing bulletins warning people to avoid day jobs.

Does that mean you should quit your day job? Not necessarily. I’m guessing here, but I’d guess that many of these would-be founders may not have the kind of determination it takes to start a company, and that in the back of their minds, they know it. The reason they don’t invest more time in their startup is that they know it’s a bad investment.

I’d also guess there’s some band of people who could have succeeded if they’d taken the leap and done it full-time, but didn’t. I have no idea how wide this band is, but if the winner/borderline/hopeless progression has the sort of distribution you’d expect, the number of people who could have made it, if they’d quit their day job, is probably an order of magnitude larger than the number who do make it.

If that’s true, most startups that could succeed fail because the founders don’t devote their whole efforts to them. That certainly accords with what I see out in the world. Most startups fail because they don’t make something people want, and the reason most don’t is that they don’t try hard enough.

In other words, starting startups is just like everything else. The biggest mistake you can make is not to try hard enough. To the extent there’s a secret to success, it’s not to be in denial about that.

Notes

[] This is not a complete list of the causes of failure, just those you can control. There are also several you can’t, notably ineptitude and bad luck.

[] Ironically, one variant of the Facebook that might work is a facebook exclusively for college students.

[] Steve Jobs tried to motivate people by saying “Real artists ship.” This is a fine sentence, but unfortunately not true. Many famous works of art are unfinished. It’s true in fields that have hard deadlines, like architecture and filmmaking, but even there people tend to be tweaking stuff till it’s yanked out of their hands.

[] There’s probably also a second factor: startup founders tend to be at the leading edge of technology, so problems they face are probably especially valuable.

[] You should take more than you think you’ll need, maybe 50% to 100% more, because software takes longer to write and deals longer to close than you expect.

[] Since people sometimes call us VCs, I should add that we’re not. VCs invest large amounts of other people’s money. We invest small amounts of our own, like angel investors.

[] Not linearly of course, or it would take forever to raise five million dollars. In practice it just feels like it takes forever.

Though if you include the cases where VCs don’t invest, it would literally take forever in the median case. And maybe we should, because the danger of chasing large investments is not just that they take a long time. That’s the best case. The real danger is that you’ll expend a lot of time and get nothing.

[] Some VCs will offer you an artificially low valuation to see if you have the balls to ask for more. It’s lame that VCs play such games, but some do. If you’re dealing with one of those you should push back on the valuation a bit.

[] Suppose YouTube’s founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them “Google Video is badly designed. Give us $10 million and we’ll tell you all the mistakes you made.” They would have gotten the royal raspberry. Eighteen months later Google paid $1.6 billion for the same lesson, partly because they could then tell themselves that they were buying a phenomenon, or a community, or some vague thing like that.

I don’t mean to be hard on Google. They did better than their competitors, who may have now missed the video boat entirely.

[] Yes, actually: dealing with the government. But phone companies are up there.

[] Many more than most people realize, because companies don’t advertise this. Did you know Apple originally had three founders?

[] I’m not dissing these people. I don’t have the determination myself. I’ve twice come close to starting startups since Viaweb, and both times I bailed because I realized that without the spur of poverty I just wasn’t willing to endure the stress of a startup.

[] So how do you know whether you’re in the category of people who should quit their day job, or the presumably larger one who shouldn’t? I got to the point of saying that this was hard to judge for yourself and that you should seek outside advice, before realizing that that’s what we do. We think of ourselves as investors, but viewed from the other direction Y Combinator is a service for advising people whether or not to quit their day job. We could be mistaken, and no doubt often are, but we do at least bet money on our conclusions.

Source: paulgraham.com

I finally realized today why politics and religion yield such uniquely useless discussions.

As a rule, any mention of religion on an online forum degenerates into a religious argument. Why? Why does this happen with religion and not with Javascript or baking or other topics people talk about on forums?

What’s different about religion is that people don’t feel they need to have any particular expertise to have opinions about it. All they need is strongly held beliefs, and anyone can have those. No thread about Javascript will grow as fast as one about religion, because people feel they have to be over some threshold of expertise to post comments about that. But on religion everyone’s an expert.

Then it struck me: this is the problem with politics too. Politics, like religion, is a topic where there’s no threshold of expertise for expressing an opinion. All you need is strong convictions.

Do religion and politics have something in common that explains this similarity? One possible explanation is that they deal with questions that have no definite answers, so there’s no back pressure on people’s opinions. Since no one can be proven wrong, every opinion is equally valid, and sensing this, everyone lets fly with theirs.

But this isn’t true. There are certainly some political questions that have definite answers, like how much a new government policy will cost. But the more precise political questions suffer the same fate as the vaguer ones.

I think what religion and politics have in common is that they become part of people’s identity, and people can never have a fruitful argument about something that’s part of their identity. By definition they’re partisan.

Which topics engage people’s identity depends on the people, not the topic. For example, a discussion about a battle that included citizens of one or more of the countries involved would probably degenerate into a political argument. But a discussion today about a battle that took place in the Bronze Age probably wouldn’t. No one would know what side to be on. So it’s not politics that’s the source of the trouble, but identity. When people say a discussion has degenerated into a religious war, what they really mean is that it has started to be driven mostly by people’s identities. [1]

Because the point at which this happens depends on the people rather than the topic, it’s a mistake to conclude that because a question tends to provoke religious wars, it must have no answer. For example, the question of the relative merits of programming languages often degenerates into a religious war, because so many programmers identify as X programmers or Y programmers. This sometimes leads people to conclude the question must be unanswerable—that all languages are equally good. Obviously that’s false: anything else people make can be well or badly designed; why should this be uniquely impossible for programming languages? And indeed, you can have a fruitful discussion about the relative merits of programming languages, so long as you exclude people who respond from identity.

More generally, you can have a fruitful discussion about a topic only if it doesn’t engage the identities of any of the participants. What makes politics and religion such minefields is that they engage so many people’s identities. But you could in principle have a useful conversation about them with some people. And there are other topics that might seem harmless, like the relative merits of Ford and Chevy pickup trucks, that you couldn’t safely talk about with others.

The most intriguing thing about this theory, if it’s right, is that it explains not merely which kinds of discussions to avoid, but how to have better ideas. If people can’t think clearly about anything that has become part of their identity, then all other things being equal, the best plan is to let as few things into your identity as possible. [2]

Most people reading this will already be fairly tolerant. But there is a step beyond thinking of yourself as x but tolerating y: not even to consider yourself an x. The more labels you have for yourself, the dumber they make you.

Notes

[1] When that happens, it tends to happen fast, like a core going critical. The threshold for participating goes down to zero, which brings in more people. And they tend to say incendiary things, which draw more and angrier counterarguments.

[2] There may be some things it’s a net win to include in your identity. For example, being a scientist. But arguably that is more of a placeholder than an actual label—like putting NMI on a form that asks for your middle initial—because it doesn’t commit you to believing anything in particular. A scientist isn’t committed to believing in natural selection in the same way a bibilical literalist is committed to rejecting it. All he’s committed to is following the evidence wherever it leads.

Considering yourself a scientist is equivalent to putting a sign in a cupboard saying “this cupboard must be kept empty.” Yes, strictly speaking, you’re putting something in the cupboard, but not in the ordinary sense.