startup

A startup is a company designed to grow fast. Being newly founded does not in itself make a company a startup. Nor is it necessary for a startup to work on technology, take venture funding, or have some sort of “exit.” The only essential thing is growth. Everything else we associate with startups follows from growth.

The good news is, that if you get growth, everything else tends to fall into place. This means you can use growth like a compass to make almost every decision you face.

Startups do have a different sort of DNA from other businesses

Not every newly founded company is a startup. Millions of companies are started every year. Only a tiny fraction are startups. Most are service businesses — restaurants, barbershops, plumbers, and so on. These are not startups, except in a few unusual cases. A barbershop isn’t designed to grow fast. Whereas a search engine, for example, is.

That difference is why there’s a distinct word, “startup,” for companies designed to grow fast. If all companies were essentially similar, but some through luck or the efforts of their founders ended up growing very fast, we wouldn’t need a separate word. We could just talk about super-successful companies and less successful ones. But in fact, startups do have a different sort of DNA from other businesses. Google is not just a barbershop whose founders were unusually lucky and hard-working. Google was different from the beginning.

To grow rapidly, you need to make something you can sell to a big market. That’s the difference between Google and a barbershop. A barbershop doesn’t scale.

For a company to grow really big, it must:
(a) make something lots of people want, and
(b) reach and serve all those people.

Barbershops are doing fine in the (a) department. Almost everyone needs their hair cut. The problem for a barbershop, as for any retail establishment, is (b). A barbershop serves customers in person, and few will travel far for a haircut. And even if they did, the barbershop couldn’t accommodate them

Writing software is a great way to solve (b), but you can still end up constrained in (a). If you write software to teach Tibetan to Hungarian speakers, you’ll be able to reach most of the people who want it, but there won’t be many of them. If you make software to teach English to Chinese speakers, however, you’re in startup territory.

Most businesses are tightly constrained in (a) or (b). The distinctive feature of successful startups is that they’re not.

Ideas: A startup has to make something it can deliver to a large market

If you’re going to start a company, why not start the type with the most potential? The catch is that this is a (fairly) efficient market. If you write software to teach Tibetan to Hungarians, you won’t have much competition. If you write software to teach English to Chinese speakers, you’ll face ferocious competition, precisely because that’s such a larger prize.

The constraints that limit ordinary companies also protect them. That’s the tradeoff. If you start a barbershop, you only have to compete with other local barbers. If you start a search engine you have to compete with the whole world.

A startup has to make something it can deliver to a large market, and ideas of that type are so valuable that all the obvious ones are already taken.

That space of ideas has been so thoroughly picked over that a startup generally has to work on something everyone else has overlooked.

Usually successful startups happen because the founders are sufficiently different from other people that ideas few others can see seem obvious to them. Perhaps later they step back and notice they’ve found an idea in everyone else’s blind spot, and from that point make a deliberate effort to stay there. [3] But at the moment when successful startups get started, much of the innovation is unconscious.

What’s different about successful founders is that they can see different problems. It’s a particularly good combination both to be good at technology and to face problems that can be solved by it, because technology changes so rapidly that formerly bad ideas often become good without anyone noticing. Steve Wozniak’s problem was that he wanted his own computer. That was an unusual problem to have in 1975. But technological change was about to make it a much more common one. Because he not only wanted a computer but knew how to build them, Wozniak was able to make himself one. And the problem he solved for himself became one that Apple solved for millions of people in the coming years. But by the time it was obvious to ordinary people that this was a big market, Apple was already established.

Google has similar origins. Larry Page and Sergey Brin wanted to search the web. But unlike most people they had the technical expertise both to notice that existing search engines were not as good as they could be, and to know how to improve them. Over the next few years their problem became everyone’s problem, as the web grew to a size where you didn’t have to be a picky search expert to notice the old algorithms weren’t good enough. But as happened with Apple, by the time everyone else realised how important search was, Google was entrenched.

That’s one connection between startup ideas and technology. Rapid change in one area uncovers big, soluble problems in other areas. Sometimes the changes are advances, and what they change is solubility. That was the kind of change that yielded Apple; advances in chip technology finally let Steve Wozniak design a computer he could afford. But in Google’s case the most important change was the growth of the web. What changed there was not solubility but bigness.

The other connection between startups and technology is that startups create new ways of doing things, and new ways of doing things are, in the broader sense of the word, new technology. When a startup both begins with an idea exposed by technological change and makes a product consisting of technology in the narrower sense (what used to be called “high technology”), it’s easy to conflate the two. But the two connections are distinct and in principle one could start a startup that was neither driven by technological change, nor whose product consisted of technology except in the broader sense.

What growth rate do successful startups tend to have?

For founders, that’s more than a theoretical question, because it’s equivalent to asking if they’re on the right path.

The growth of a successful startup usually has three phases:

1. There’s an initial period of slow or no growth while the startup tries to figure out what it’s doing.
   
2. As the startup figures out how to make something lots of people want and how to reach those people, there’s a period of rapid growth.
   
3. Eventually a successful startup will grow into a big company. Growth will slow, partly due to internal limits and partly because the company is starting to bump up against the limits of the markets it serves.

Together these three phases produce an S-curve. The phase whose growth defines the startup is the second one, the ascent. Its length and slope determine how big the company will be.

The slope is the company’s growth rate. If there’s one number every founder should always know, it’s the company’s growth rate. That’s the measure of a startup. If you don’t know that number, you don’t even know if you’re doing well or badly.

What matters is not the absolute number of new customers, but the ratio of new customers to existing ones. If you’re really getting a constant number of new customers every month, you’re in trouble, because that means your growth rate is decreasing.

A good growth rate during Y Combinator (explained below) is 5-7% a week. If you can hit 10% a week you’re doing exceptionally well. If you can only manage 1%, it’s a sign you haven’t yet figured out what you’re doing.

The best thing to measure the growth rate is revenue. The next best, for startups that aren’t charging initially, is active users. That’s a reasonable proxy for revenue growth because whenever the startup does start trying to make money, its revenues will probably be a constant multiple of active users.

What’s your compass?

At Y Combinator they usually advise startups to pick a growth rate they think they can hit, and then just try to hit it every week. The key word here is “just.” If they decide to grow at 7% a week and they hit that number, they’re successful for that week. There’s nothing more they need to do. But if they don’t hit it, they’ve failed in the only thing that mattered and should be correspondingly alarmed.

Focusing on hitting a growth rate reduces the otherwise bewilderingly multifarious problem of starting a startup to a single problem. You can use that target growth rate to make all your decisions for you; anything that gets you the growth you need is ipso facto right. Should you spend two days at a conference? Should you hire another programmer? Should you focus more on marketing? Should you spend time courting some big customers? Should you add the X feature? Whatever gets you your target growth rate.

Judging yourself by weekly growth doesn’t mean you can look no more than a week ahead. Once you experience the pain of missing your target one week (it was the only thing that mattered, and you failed at it), you become interested in anything that could spare you such pain in the future. So you’ll be willing for example to hire another programmer, who won’t contribute to this week’s growth but perhaps in a month will have implemented some new feature that will get you more users. But only if (a) the distraction of hiring someone won’t make you miss your numbers in the short term, and (b) you’re sufficiently worried about whether you can keep hitting your numbers without hiring someone new.

Having to hit a growth number every week forces founders to act, and acting versus not acting is the high bit of succeeding. Nine times out of ten, sitting around strategizing is just a form of procrastination. Whereas founders’ intuitions about which hill to climb are usually better than they realize.

The fascinating thing about optimizing for growth is that it can actually discover startup ideas. You can use the need for growth as a form of evolutionary pressure. If you start out with some initial plan and modify it as necessary to keep hitting, say, 10% weekly growth, you may end up with a quite different company than you meant to start. But anything that grows consistently at 10% a week is almost certainly a better idea than you started with.

Value

A company that grows at 1% a week will grow 1.7x a year, whereas a company that grows at 5% a week will grow 12.6x. A company making $1000 a month (a typical number early in YC) and growing at 1% a week will 4 years later be making $7900 a month, which is less than a good programmer makes in salary in Silicon Valley. A startup that grows at 5% a week will in 4 years be making $25 million a month.

weekly	yearly
1%	1.7x
2%	2.8x
5%	12.6x
7%	33.7x
10%	142.0x

Considering how valuable a successful startup can become, anyone familiar with the concept of expected value would be surprised if the failure rate weren’t high. If a successful startup could make a founder $100 million, then even if the chance of succeeding were only 1%, the expected value of starting one would be $1 million. And the probability of a group of sufficiently smart and determined founders succeeding on that scale might be significantly over 1%. For the right people — e.g. the young Bill Gates — the probability might be 20% or even 50%. So it’s not surprising that so many want to take a shot at it. In an efficient market, the number of failed startups should be proportionate to the size of the successes. And since the latter is huge the former should be too.

Why do investors like startups so much?

The test of any investment is the ratio of return to risk. Startups pass that test because although they’re appallingly risky, the returns when they do succeed are so high. But that’s not the only reason investors like startups. An ordinary slower-growing business might have just as good a ratio of return to risk if both were lower. So why are VCs interested only in high-growth companies? The reason is that they get paid by getting their capital back, ideally after the startup IPOs, or failing that when it’s acquired.

The other way to get returns from an investment is in the form of dividends. Why isn’t there a parallel VC industry that invests in ordinary companies in return for a percentage of their profits? Because it’s too easy for people who control a private company to funnel its revenues to themselves (e.g. by buying overpriced components from a supplier they control) while making it look like the company is making little profit. Anyone who invested in private companies in return for dividends would have to pay close attention to their books.

The reason VCs like to invest in startups is not simply the returns, but also because such investments are so easy to oversee. The founders can’t enrich themselves without also enriching the investors.

Why do founders want to take the VCs’ money? Growth, again. The constraint between good ideas and growth operates in both directions. It’s not merely that you need a scalable idea to grow. If you have such an idea and don’t grow fast enough, competitors will. Growing too slowly is particularly dangerous in a business with network effects, which the best startups usually have to some degree.

Almost every company needs some amount of funding to get started. But startups often raise money even when they are or could be profitable. It might seem foolish to sell stock in a profitable company for less than you think it will later be worth, but it’s no more foolish than buying insurance. Fundamentally that’s how the most successful startups view fundraising. They could grow the company on its own revenues, but the extra money and help supplied by VCs will let them grow even faster. Raising money lets you choose your growth rate.

Money to grow faster is always at the command of the most successful startups, because the VCs need them more than they need the VCs. A profitable startup could if it wanted just grow on its own revenues. Growing slower might be slightly dangerous, but chances are it wouldn’t kill them.

Fundamentally the same thing that makes everyone else want the stock of successful startups: a rapidly growing company is valuable. It’s a good thing eBay bought Paypal, for example, because Paypal is now responsible for 43% of their sales and probably more of their growth.

But acquirers have an additional reason to want startups. A rapidly growing company is not merely valuable, but dangerous. If it keeps expanding, it might expand into the acquirer’s own territory. Most product acquisitions have some component of fear. Even if an acquirer isn’t threatened by the startup itself, they might be alarmed at the thought of what a competitor could do with it. And because startups are in this sense doubly valuable to acquirers, acquirers will often pay more than an ordinary investor would.

Understanding growth is what starting a startup consists of

The combination of founders, investors and acquirers forms a natural ecosystem.
If you want to understand startups, understand growth. Growth drives everything in this world. Growth is why startups usually work on technology — because ideas for fast-growing companies are so rare that the best way to find new ones is to discover those recently made viable by change, and technology is the best source of rapid change. Growth is why it’s a rational choice economically for so many founders to try starting a startup: growth makes successful companies so valuable that the expected value is high even though the risk is too. Growth is why VCs want to invest in startups: not just because the returns are high but also because generating returns from capital gains is easier to manage than generating returns from dividends. Growth explains why the most successful startups take VC money even if they don’t need to: it lets them choose their growth rate. And growth explains why successful startups almost invariably get acquisition offers. To acquirers a fast-growing company is not merely valuable but dangerous too.

It’s not just that if you want to succeed in some domain, you have to understand the forces driving it. Understanding growth is what starting a startup consists of. What you’re really doing (and to the dismay of some observers, all you’re really doing) when you start a startup is committing to solve a harder type of problem than ordinary businesses do. You’re committing to search for one of the rare ideas that generates rapid growth. Because these ideas are so valuable, finding one is hard. The startup is the embodiment of your discoveries so far. Starting a startup is thus very much like deciding to be a research scientist: you’re not committing to solve any specific problem; you don’t know for sure which problems are soluble; but you’re committing to try to discover something no one knew before. A startup founder is in effect an economic research scientist. Most don’t discover anything that remarkable, but some discover relativity.

This article is sourced from Paul Graham’s website.

About

Paul Graham (born 1964) is an English-born American computer scientist, essayist, entrepreneur, venture capitalist, and author. He is best known for his work on the programming language Lisp, his former startup Viaweb (later renamed Yahoo! Store), co-founding the influential startup accelerator and seed capital firm Y Combinator, his blog, and Hacker News. He is the author of several computer programming books, including: On Lisp, ANSI Common Lisp, and Hackers & Painters. Technology journalist Steven Levy has described Graham as a “hacker philosopher”.

Y Combinator (YC) is an American technology startup accelerator launched in March 2005. It has been used to launch more than 3,000 companies,[2] including Airbnb, Coinbase, Cruise, DoorDash, Dropbox, Instacart, Quora, PagerDuty, Reddit, Stripe and Twitch. The combined valuation of the top YC companies was more than $300 billion by January 2021. The company’s accelerator program started in Boston and Mountain View expanded to San Francisco in 2019 and has been entirely online since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Forbes characterized the company in 2012 as one of the most successful startup accelerators in Silicon Valley.

Some startups seem quicker to learn some lessons than others.

Paul Graham, author, entrepreneur, and venture capitalist claims he learned a trick for determining which points are the counterintuitive ones for startups. Here are some of his learned lessons:

1. Release Early

Get version 1 out fast, then improve it based on users’ reactions.

By “release early” he doesn’t mean you should release something full of bugs, but that you should release something minimal. Users hate bugs, but they don’t seem to mind a minimal version 1 if there’s more coming soon.

There are several reasons it pays to get version 1 done fast. One is that this is simply the right way to write software, whether for a startup or not.  A lot of startups die because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too quick.

One of the things that will surprise you if you build something popular is that you won’t know your users.

Even if you had no users, it would still be important to release quickly, because for a startup the initial release acts as a shakedown cruise. If anything major is broken– if the idea’s no good, for example, or the founders hate one another– the stress of getting that first version out will expose it. And if you have such problems you want to find them early.

Perhaps the most important reason to release early, though, is that it makes you work harder. When you’re working on something that isn’t released, problems are intriguing. In something that’s out there, problems are alarming. There is a lot more urgency once you release.

2. Keep Pumping Out Features

Of course, “release early” has a second component, without which it would be bad advice. If you’re going to start with something that doesn’t do much, you better improve it fast and “pump out features”. This is something all startups should do for as long as they want to be considered startups. By “feature” it is meant one unit of hacking– one quantum of making users’ lives better. The more ideas you implement, the more ideas you’ll have. You should make your system better at least in some small way every day or two.

This is not just a good way to get development done; it is also a form of marketing. Users love a site that’s constantly improving.

They’ll like you even better when you improve in response to their comments, because customers are used to companies ignoring them. If you’re the rare exception– a company that actually listens– you’ll generate fanatical loyalty. You won’t need to advertise, because your users will do it for you.

Force yourself, as a sort of intellectual exercise, to keep thinking of improvements. Ok, sure, what you have is perfect. But if you had to change something, what would it be?

If your product seems finished, there are two possible explanations: (a) it is finished, or (b) you lack imagination. Experience suggests (b) is a thousand times more likely.

3. Make Users Happy

Improving constantly is an instance of a more general rule: make users happy.

When you’re running a startup you feel like a little bit of debris blown about by powerful winds. The most powerful wind is users. They can either catch you and loft you up into the sky, as they did with Google, or leave you flat on the pavement, as they do with most startups. Users are a fickle wind, but more powerful than any other. If they take you up, no competitor can keep you down.

There are two things you have to do to make people pause. The most important is to explain, as concisely as possible, what your startup is about. How often have you visited a site that seemed to assume you already knew what they did?

For example, the corporate site says: ‘the company makes enterprise content management solutions for businesses that enable organisations to unify people, content, and processes to minimize business risk, accelerate time-to-value and sustain a lower total cost of ownership.’

An established company may get away with such an opaque description, but no startup can. A startup should be able to explain in one or two sentences exactly what it does.  And not just to users. You need this for everyone: investors, acquirers, partners, reporters, potential employees, and even current employees. You probably shouldn’t even start a company to do something that can’t be described compellingly in one or two sentences.

Give people everything you’ve got, right away. If you have something impressive, try to put it on the front page, because that’s the only one most visitors will see. Though indeed there’s a paradox here: the more you push the good stuff toward the front, the more likely visitors are to explore further.

In the best case these two suggestions get combined: you tell visitors what your site is about by showing them. One of the standard pieces of advice in fiction writing is “show, don’t tell.” Don’t say that a character’s angry; have him grind his teeth, or break his pencil in half. Nothing will explain what your site does so well as using it.

The industry term here is “conversion.” The job of your site is to convert casual visitors into users– whatever your definition of a user is. You can measure this in your growth rate. Either your site is catching on, or it isn’t, and you must know which. If you have decent growth, you’ll win in the end, no matter how obscure you are now. And if you don’t, you need to fix something.

4. Fear the Right Things

Startups are right to be paranoid, but they sometimes fear the wrong things.

Most visible disasters are not as alarming as they seem. Disasters are normal in a startup: a founder quits, you discover a patent that covers what you’re doing, your servers keep crashing, you run into an insoluble technical problem, you have to change your name, a deal falls through– these are all par for the course. They won’t kill you unless you let them.

Nor will most competitors. A lot of startups worry “what if Google builds something like us?” Actually, big companies are not the ones you have to worry about– not even Google. The people at Google are smart but no smarter than you; they’re not as motivated, because Google is not going to go out of business if this one product fails; and even at Google they have a lot of bureaucracy to slow them down.

What you should fear, as a startup, is not the established players, but other startups you don’t know exist yet. They’re way more dangerous than Google because, like you, they’re cornered animals.

Looking just at existing competitors can give you a false sense of security. You should compete against what someone else could be doing, not just what you can see people doing. No matter what your idea, there’s someone else out there working on the same thing.

And in any case, competitors are not the biggest threat. Way more startups hose themselves than get crushed by competitors. There are a lot of ways to do it, but the three main ones are internal disputes, inertia, and ignoring users. Each is, by itself, enough to kill you.  If you want a recipe for a startup that’s going to die, here it is: a couple of founders who have some great idea they know everyone is going to love, and that’s what they’re going to build, no matter what.

Almost everyone’s initial plan is broken. If companies stuck to their initial plans, Microsoft would be selling programming languages, and Apple would be selling printed circuit boards. In both cases their customers told them what their business should be– and they were smart enough to listen.

As Richard Feynman said, the imagination of nature is greater than the imagination of man. You’ll find more interesting things by looking at the world than you could ever produce just by thinking. This principle is very powerful. No idea for a product could ever be so clever as the ones you can discover by smashing a beam of prototypes into a beam of users.

5. Commitment Is a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

The most important quality in a startup founder is determination. Not intelligence– determination.

Time after time VCs invest in startups founded by eminent professors. This may work in biotech, where a lot of startups simply commercialize existing research, but in software, you want to invest in students, not professors. Microsoft, Yahoo, and Google were all founded by people who dropped out of school to do it. What students lack in experience they more than makeup in dedication.

It’s not enough merely to be determined. You have to be smart too, right?

You can lose quite a lot in the brains department and it won’t kill you. But losing even a little bit in the commitment department, and that will kill you very rapidly.

Running a startup is like walking on your hands: it’s possible, but it requires extraordinary effort. If an ordinary employee were asked to do the things a startup founder has to, he’d be very indignant. Imagine if you were hired at some big company, and in addition to writing software ten times faster than you’d ever had to before, they expected you to answer support calls, administer the servers, design the web site, cold-call customers, find the company office space, and go out and get everyone lunch.

And to do all this not in the calm, womb-like atmosphere of a big company, but against a backdrop of constant disasters. That’s the part that really demands determination. In a startup, there’s always some disaster happening. So if you’re the least bit inclined to find an excuse to quit, there’s always one right there.

But if you lack commitment, chances are it will have been hurting you long before you actually quit.  If you lack commitment, you’ll just find that for some mysterious reason good things happen to your competitors but not to you. If you lack commitment, it will seem to you that you’re unlucky.

At Y Combinator we sometimes mistakenly fund teams who have the attitude that they’re going to give this startup thing a shot for three months, and if something great happens, they’ll stick with it– “something great” meaning either that someone wants to buy them or invest millions of dollars in them. But if this is your attitude, “something great” is very unlikely to happen to you, because both acquirers and investors judge you by your level of commitment.

Paul Graham

If an acquirer thinks you’re going to stick around no matter what, they’ll be more likely to buy you because if they don’t and you stick around, you’ll probably grow, your price will go up, and they’ll be left wishing they’d bought you earlier. Ditto for investors. What really motivates investors, even big VCs, is not the hope of good returns, but the fear of missing out. So if you make it clear you’re going to succeed no matter what, and the only reason you need them is to make it happen a little faster, you’re much more likely to get money.

You can’t fake this. The only way to convince everyone that you’re ready to fight to the death is actually to be ready to.

You have to be the right kind of determined, though. I carefully chose the word determined rather than stubborn because stubbornness is a disastrous quality in a startup. You have to be determined, but flexible, like a running back. A successful running back doesn’t just put his head down and try to run through people. He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he’ll even run in the wrong direction briefly if that will help. The one thing he’ll never do is stand still.

6. There Is Always Room

There is always room for new stuff. At every point in history, even in the darkest bits of the dark ages, people were discovering things that made everyone say “why didn’t anyone think of that before?”

The reason we don’t see the opportunities all around us is that we adjust to however things are and assume that’s how things have to be. For example, it would seem crazy to most people to try to make a better search engine than Google. Surely that field, at least, is tapped out. Really? In a hundred years– or even twenty– are people still going to search for information using something like the current Google? Even Google probably doesn’t think that.

Sometimes you hear people saying “All these guys starting startups now are going to be disappointed. How many little startups are Google and Yahoo going to buy, after all?” That sounds cleverly skeptical, but I can prove it’s mistaken. No one proposes that there’s some limit to the number of people who can be employed in an economy consisting of big, slow-moving companies with a couple thousand people each. Why should there be any limit to the number who could be employed by small, fast-moving companies with ten each? It seems to me the only limit would be the number of people who want to work that hard.

The limit on the number of startups is not the number that can get acquired by Google and Yahoo– though it seems even that should be unlimited, if the startups were actually worth buying– but the amount of wealth that can be created.

So for all practical purposes, there is no limit to the number of startups. Startups make wealth, which means they make things people want, and if there’s a limit on the number of things people want, we are nowhere near it.

7. Don’t Get Your Hopes Up

Startup founders are naturally optimistic. They wouldn’t do it otherwise. But you should treat your optimism the way you’d treat the core of a nuclear reactor: as a source of power that’s also very dangerous. You have to build a shield around it, or it will fry you.

 The place to draw the line is between what you expect of yourself, and what you expect of other people. It’s ok to be optimistic about what you can do, but assume the worst about machines and other people.

This is particularly necessary for a startup because you tend to be pushing the limits of whatever you’re doing. So things don’t happen in the smooth, predictable way they do in the rest of the world. Things change suddenly, and usually for the worse.

Shielding your optimism is nowhere more important than with deals. If your startup is doing a deal, just assume it’s not going to happen. The VCs who say they’re going to invest in you aren’t. The company that says they’re going to buy you isn’t. The big customer who wants to use your system in their whole company won’t. Then if things work out you can be pleasantly surprised.

For example, if someone says they want to invest in you, there’s a natural tendency to stop looking for other investors. That’s why people proposing deals seem so positive: they want you to stop looking. And you want to stop too because doing deals is a pain. Raising money, in particular, is a huge time-sink. So you have to consciously force yourself to keep looking.

Even if you ultimately do the first deal, it will be to your advantage to have kept looking, because you’ll get better terms. Deals are dynamic; unless you’re negotiating with someone unusually honest, there’s not a single point where you shake hands and the deal’s done. There are usually a lot of subsidiary questions to be cleared up after the handshake, and if the other side senses weakness– if they sense you need this deal– they will be very tempted to screw you in the details.

VCs and corp dev guys are professional negotiators. They’re trained to take advantage of weaknesses. So while they’re often nice guys, they just can’t help it. And as pros, they do this more than you. So don’t even try to bluff them. The only way a startup can have any leverage in a deal is genuinely not to need it. And if you don’t believe in a deal, you’ll be less likely to depend on it.

When you hear someone say the words “we want to invest in you” or “we want to acquire you,” the following phrase should appear automatically in your head: don’t get your hopes up. Just continue running your company as if this deal didn’t exist. Nothing is more likely to make it close.

The way to succeed in a startup is to focus on the goal of getting lots of users and keep walking swiftly toward it while investors and acquirers scurry alongside trying to wave money in your face.

This article is sourced from Paul Graham’s website.

About

Paul Graham (born 1964) is an English-born American computer scientist, essayist, entrepreneur, venture capitalist, and author. He is best known for his work on the programming language Lisp, his former startup Viaweb (later renamed Yahoo! Store), co-founding the influential startup accelerator and seed capital firm Y Combinator, his blog, and Hacker News. He is the author of several computer programming books, including: On Lisp, ANSI Common Lisp, and Hackers & Painters. Technology journalist Steven Levy has described Graham as a “hacker philosopher”.

Y Combinator (YC) is an American technology startup accelerator launched in March 2005. It has been used to launch more than 3,000 companies,[2] including Airbnb, Coinbase, Cruise, DoorDash, Dropbox, Instacart, Quora, PagerDuty, Reddit, Stripe and Twitch. The combined valuation of the top YC companies was more than $300 billion by January 2021. The company’s accelerator program started in Boston and Mountain View expanded to San Francisco in 2019 and has been entirely online since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Forbes characterized the company in 2012 as one of the most successful startup accelerators in Silicon Valley.