Yellow Jacket Tower

We attempted (and had to back off due to rain) Yellow Jacket Tower near Leavenworth on Sunday. The trailhead is on Icicle Creek Road a few miles outside Leavenworth. The approach is relatively short but quite steep and once you move close to the route, rockfall becomes a real issue. The views are spectacular – we even had a rainbow because of the mist – so it was well worth the effort. The summit just facilitates the trip, and I really didn’t care much that we couldn’t climb. Great group, great scenery and really good exercise going up and down that approach path! Photos by Tom McPharlin.

 

 

    The Technologist’s Curse

    As a technology-focused founder, what could be better than building a cool new machine?  Innovating for its own sake is fun, challenging and it lets you learn powerful new tools.  A clever new technology is seductive – you want to tinker with it, improve it, add features, tweak the design.  But great technology most certainly does not imply a great business model.  That’s the Technologist’s Curse – a technical founder falling in love with his or her new machine and losing sight of the underlying business case for the product.

    I’ve certainly been guilty of that myself.  Take the legal services profession – it’s an area that by any measure is crying out for technological innovation.  Law firms frequently still use Windows XP and Office 2003.  Often it’s easier to find things on Google than your own expensive knowledge management system.  And as a lawyer, you spend so much of your day fighting with the technology you already have.  Getting the formatting right on a big agreement is one task that every corporate lawyer has struggled with.  It’s so deeply frustrating to attorneys – all you want is to get something out to your client and it usually feels like the tech is the thing that’s slowing you down.

    For me, once of the biggest frustrations was looking at the same type of agreement again and again, yet not having any easy-to-use procedure for ensuring it had all the language I wanted.  There just must be some way to avoid reinventing the wheel again and again (not to mention relying solely on my own experience and judgment rather than using a sort of checklist to back these up).  My solution was simple – I’ll just build a machine to check over the contract to ensure it contained everything it should contain!  Easy!

    Legal language is rarely drafted from scratch – you almost always work from a model.  An attorney’s nightmare is having a judge say, “You drafted this term differently from what every other lawyer from time immemorial has drafted.  Therefore, you must have intended a different result.”  Legal text is deeply conservative and thus it lends itself to lexical analysis more than free text language.  That’s when the seduction began…

    Text analytics is tantalizing since you can get pretty good results without that much effort.  But that’s when things start getting much, much harder.  There are a plethora of algorithms, techniques and black magic in text analytics, from natural language processing to grammatical parsing to the Porter stemming algorithm to all sorts of machine learning tools.  Fidgeting with the various levers typically improves one type of result while degrading another.

    Thus it’s easy to fall into the “just one more adjustment” mindset that eats valuable time without necessarily providing any business-level benefits.  I spent months trying to get this right – I’d tweak one setting, get a small improvement, but it would break something else.  Being a prudent, Steve Blank-reading entrepreneur, I tried during this time to get customer validation that the vision was actually something valuable.  As it turned out, the technology that got more enthusiasm was actually simpler – instead of actually getting into the interpretation of specific provisions, it was enough for now just to classify them for user analysis.  That alone saved lawyers tons of time and helped prevent mistakes.  But learning this was a painful lesson that only sank in after making these mistakes myself.  That’s like so much of entrepreneurship – you’re aware of this advice on an intellectual level, but unless you’ve done it before, you just don’t know what it feels like to get it right.

    A corollary to the Technologist’s Curse, and one I’m really focused on now, is just-one-more-feature-ism: if I build just one more feature, people will start buying in droves.  This is rarely the case, but to people who regularly use, build and even enjoy technology, the power that comes with additional features is seductive…and the coding behind them is just so clever!

    There’s something to be said for at least one founder without a deep, behind-the-scenes understanding of the underlying technology – it’s easier to have some distance from your product and see it more objectively.  If sales aren’t going as quickly as you want (isn’t that always?), a technologist naturally focuses on what he knows best – the underlying technology – despite evidence to suggest that this might not be the problem at all.  That’s where an objective set of eyes is really critical.

    Photo Credit: Tantalus – Giulio Samuto, 1565, illustrations to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, in Modern Languages / Anthropology 3043: Folklore & Mythology. Laura Gibbs, Ph.D.

      South Early Winter Spire

      What a beautiful, evocative name for a peak! The South Early Winter Spire is accessible out of the Blue Lake Trailhead, 54 miles outside Marblemount. I left Seattle at about 7:30 PM, took a 14 mile unintended detour on a deserted road outside Derrington and hit Marblemount at about 10:30 PM. The next 54 miles I didn’t see a single other car – just the stars above and the brooding blackness of the peaks on either side of Route 20. I pulled up to the empty trailhead parking lot at about 11:30, curled up in the backseat and just slept until 6 AM. We got very lucky with the weather – absolutely beautiful fall sunshine!

      The approach is a bit steep and takes about 1 hour. There’s one tricky move on the very first pitch of the South Arete route, but other than that it seems to be strictly like 5.5 or so. There’s a really cool chimney move up a thin gully – inside is really fun, like being in the Hall of the Mountain King! We simul-climbed up to the Whale Back, which is an easy Class 4 traverse (we did it with a fixed rope). The summit is just one big boulder on top of a bunch of other big boulders, but affords spectacular views of the surrounding range.

      Downclimbing got a bit hairy at times because I was carrying a huge pack. Next time I think I’ll use some of the many bolted rappel anchors.

      South Early Winter Spire

      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6526.jpg]370
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6529.jpg]250
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6538.jpg]250
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6538-1.jpg]230
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6539.jpg]220
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6544.jpg]230
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6546.jpg]210
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6550.jpg]190
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6551.jpg]180
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6552.jpg]190
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6553.jpg]170
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6554.jpg]150
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6555.jpg]130
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6561.jpg]130
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6566.jpg]110
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6575.jpg]90
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6576.jpg]90
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6580.jpg]110
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6585.jpg]110
      [img src=https://www.ehrenbrav.com/wp-content/flagallery/south-early-winter-spire/thumbs/thumbs_img_6588.jpg]80

      Photo credit: John Barrickman

        Mother’s Day On Mt. Saint Helens

        MtStHelensMapHonor thy Mother. Climbers on Mt. Saint Helens take this to heart every May by sporting fittingly matronly attire for the hike up. We set out on snowshoes early afternoon the day before Mother’s Day and camped just at the base of the mountain. The weather did not at all look promising – rain, snow, wind and completely cloudy skies.

        I was trying out a Megamid – a type of tent (tepee really) that’s just a conical tarp without a floor. The Megamid’s advantages are (i) weight and (ii) in snow, you can actually create a lot of headroom by excavating a bit underneath the tent. But on a cold night, when you’re sleeping directly on the snow, with wind and spin-drift blowing in from below, those advantages look a lot less attractive! I know it’s largely psychological (since I’ve heard you get only an extra 10 degrees or so by having a floor), sleeping on the bare snow under a flimsy piece of tent fabric is a bit lacking. And you need to be careful with standing up in a Megamid – if you break through the top crust of snow, you’ll forever have a big post hole in your floor.

        To my surprise, we awoke at 4:30 AM to clearing skies and somewhat more promising weather. My boots were frozen solid – I had a hell of a time just tying the laces. Some of our party donned appropriately motherly clothing. The hike up to the crater isn’t technical – just a long slog. We cached our snowshoes about half way up and used crampons the rest of the way.

        Many of the climbers that day were skiing. I would chose snowshoes over skis any day of the week – they’re both more practical when you need to go over all sorts of funky terrain and seemingly a lot less hassle. Sure, you don’t have the elegant glamour of making those long graceful turns down the mountain in untouched powder, but the humble snowshoe to me is easier on my legs, is easier to climb in, is better in a wider variety of conditions and is really easy to transport.

        Reaching the top of Mt. Saint Helens is called “cratering”, which sounds a lot less cool than “summiting”. We cratered pretty early in the day and headed down in decent weather. It was the first climb of the season for me and was hard. But as we broke through the weather, you could see the most sublime line of peaks emerging out of the clouds – Rainier, Adams, Hood and so many others. Even in the cold conditions and fresh snow, steam rose from the caldera.

        Photo credit: Tom McPharlin

         

         

          Choosing A Programming Language

          Choosing a programming language is a bit like choosing a religion – usually, the choice is made for you.  Each language has its advantages and disadvantages, but frequently developers simply learn whatever language they need to work on a project.  At a startup, we have the happy luxury of making this choice more thoughtfully.  So what are the factors that go into the selection?

          First, there’s efficiency: what’s the language that accomplishes the task most quickly, with the least number of bugs.  In my case, it was a natural step to use Google Web Toolkit (GWT) to do our client-side development since it allowed me to use Java – a language I’m pretty comfortable with.

          GWT is usually divided into client-side and server-side packages.  The client-side code, though written in Java, compiles into JavaScript so it can be run on a web browser.  The server-side code runs as servlets.  One big caveat about this – because the client-side stuff is really JavaScript, you’re limited in the libraries (and even standard Java classes) you can use.  One more word about compiling into JavaScript – GWT actually makes a number of different JavaScript files that are each optimized for each of the major browsers.  The title of each of these files is a hash, so whenever you deploy a new version, the user’s browser should load it without having too many caching issues.

          GWT has several big advantages – one is the slick way you can set up RPC communications between client and server.  Using this, it’s easy to send any serializable object back and forth, making your code much more straightforward.  It takes a bit of doing to configure correctly, but once the various classes and interfaces are set up, it’s simple to add new calls.

          Another beauty of using GWT is debugging – once it’s configured properly (that can take a bit of doing too), it’s very easy to simultaneously debug both client-side and server-side code.  You can easily run/debug on your local machine by running GWT’s local server.  When it works properly on your machine, you compile the client-side code and deploy to your servlet container simply by dropping the war directory into the proper place.

          Finally, there’s a decently large and helpful user community, meaning most problems you’ll run into can be easily answered through some web searching.

          The second factor for choosing a language is more psychological.  A startup’s most critical resource (other than cash) is talent.  Attracting the best people requires giving them the opportunity to grow professionally and play with exciting technology.  Regardless of the actual advantages and disadvantages to a language, building a code base with a language people are excited about is one way of distinguishing yourself in the highly competitive market for developers.  The risks of using a newer language, naturally, are the more limited number of existing libraries, more limited support and the chance the language will fall into obscurity, leaving you with a code base that’s difficult to maintain.

          An interesting example of this is Scala.  It (theoretically) can interface seamlessly with Java and it runs on the same Java Virtual Machine but the syntax is more succinct (though in my opinion, more opaque).  The bytecode is the same – the only difference from the compiler’s point of view is the presence of the scala-library.jar.

          Scala is a more pure object-oriented language than Java, in the sense that every value is an object (there are no primitives).  This helps address the boxing landmine (I recently stepped on this – Float x == Float y is *not* the same as Float x.equals(Float y)).

          Of course it’s biggest claim to fame is that it’s (in part) a functional language – something that hasn’t been seem much outside academia.  In a functional language, methods can’t have side-effects.  In other words, you put X, Y and Z into a method and get back A, without anything within the function changing anything external.  The function is an iron box – you put something in, get something out, and don’t need to worry about the stuff inside the box changing anything outside.  The major advantage of this is concurrency – you don’t have problems with multiple threads modifying the same variable at the same time.  Similarly, functional languages can very easily adapt to multiple cores.

          When choosing between one of the major languages out there, it’s really a matter of balancing pros and cons – absent a critical library or interoperability issue, there is likely more than one good choice.

            The Chilly Hilly 2011

            The Chilly Hilly is a Bainbridge Island bike race (and long-standing tradition) sponsored by the Cascade Bicycle Club.  It’s a 33 mile course that essentially circumnavigates the island.  This year lived up to the name – the temperature never topped 40F.  Although not particularly long, within those 33 miles are 2,675 feet of elevation gain.  By way of comparison, the entire 200 Seattle-to-Portland ride is only some 300 feet more.  My normal cycling route consists of about half the course, including Peterson Hill – one of the steepest inclines on the island.  But to my surprise, that hill was just the first in a series of hills on the route, and it wasn’t even the steepest or longest.

            The Chilly Hilly 2011 was also my first cycling event – I only first bought a bike maybe six months ago.  I had originally planned to stop a few places along the way to drink cider or buy some baked goods, but since the weather was so cold that day, I just pushed on through.

            Here’s an important lesson – don’t go over about one and a half hours of cycling without eating anything.  My normal route, almost exactly 1.5 hours, is fine without eating, but beyond that my energy rapidly degrades.  Although I never had to get off and walk up any of the hills, it really was a struggle getting up each one of those after the 2 hour mark (I finished the course in 2:34).  I also got pretty chilled, which I think is also a result of not eating enough – the same thing used to happen to me during long training runs.  I think it was a problem with fuel rather than a problem with strength since I wasn’t particularly sore the next few days.  

            The race is really a happening – cyclists literally fill three or four ferries that morning to Bainbridge Island and you can see everything from expensive carbon-fiber triathlon bicycles to mountain bikes to rusty commuting bikes with baskets (there was even a unicycle).  It also takes you through some absolutely beautiful scenery.

              Snowshoeing Hurricane Ridge

              Here are some pictures a trip we did last Sunday to Hurricane Ridge in the Olympic Mountains.  This was the first time I’ve been there in winter – excellent snow conditions and beautiful weather.  Our camera ran out of batteries, though, so we had to buy a little disposable one (yes, they really do still make these).  But as a consequence, all our pictures look like there were taken in 1976…

                A Winter Trip Up Mount Townsend, A Brush With A Cougar

                When I mention I had an interesting experience with a cougar, most people ask which bar I went to.  No, this was a cougar in the original sense of the word, Puma concolor, the “largest of the small cats“, according to Wikipedia…  They’re called small because they share some characteristics with pet cats – they can’t roar, but they purr, hiss and (I guess) meow like the familiar Felis catus.  At any rate, since when did the other meaning of the word become #1 on Google?

                We left early Sunday morning for Quilcene, a small town on the western side of Hood Canal.  From there, you drive up tiny Forest Service roads into the Olympics.  Mount Townsend is a popular hike during the summer months, known for its spectacular views. In the winter, it’s nearly deserted, but has fine snowshoeing.

                As with the week before, the weather was foggy with some light precipitation (snow at that elevation), a couple degrees above freezing.  It’s beautiful but really quite remote, so it’s imperative to prepare carefully for such a trip, even if just a day hike.   Not wanting to test the ice handling conditions of our Prius on these remote roads, we parked about two miles below the trailhead and went from there on snowshoes.

                The snow was crusty and old, but it seemed like there was an almost continuous dusting of light powder, so the trees were mostly white.  We went about half way up the side of Mt. Townsend and turned around.  At the trailhead, we noticed fresh prints in the newly fallen snow.  Looking carefully, these looked just like cat paws, except they were huge!  There were no claw marks (cats have retractable claws, unlike dogs).  We surmised that a cougar had been there within the time we were up on Mt. Townsend – a 2-hour interval.

                Photographer: Steve Mestagh

                Even more surprising, about 100 feet away were fresh drops of blood.  These were right next to our tracks coming in, so we were sure this had happened while we were hiking.  We still had a good two miles to go back to our car, and there was nobody else around.  Even though rationally you know the chances of being attacked by a cougar (particularly with two people) are vanishingly small, you’re gripped with an animal fear knowing it is so close.

                It’s said that those who have been attacked had a sense beforehand that they were being stalked.  It was almost like a dream – you stop, you listen, but all you can hear is the wind in the trees.  Soon we saw additional fresh tracks of another snowshoer and his dog.  So at least we weren’t quite as isolated anymore.  If you read the Forest Service posters on cougars, they’re a bit hard to swallow (“If attacked, fight back!”).  You’re not supposed to run, as then it might perceive you as prey.  Of course, the chances of us, with our loud snowshoes, coming on a cougar by surprise seems unthinkable so I figured if we were going to encounter one, it would be coming up from behind.

                Does this fear seem unreasonable?  The mind overemphasizes highly unlikely but spectacular risks (cougar attacks) but underemphasizes far more likely but mundane risks (car collision).  Yet there it was.  That must be what a rabbit feels all the time – you’re the prey.  Every unexpected noise is a threat, the cloudy sky seems sinister, you long for the comfort of others.  The irony is that, but for the snow, we never would have known.

                Cougars are magnificent animals – one of the handful of big predators remaining in North America.  You think of big cats in the Amazon, or in the African plains – not in your local mountains.  But there are parts of the Northwest that are still wild where these creatures live.  I’d love to catch a glimpse of one someday.

                  The World’s Shortest Sales Career

                  It was 1999 and I was home after my freshman year at college.  I needed to raise money for a month-long trip to Bosnia later that summer (that’s a story for another time).  Looking through the classified ads (remember those?), I found a position in “Sales”.  That’s what it said.  I had no idea what it was.

                  I went to a strip-mall office park for my interview, resume in hand (I somehow managed to make it a page long), and sat in the waiting room with a bunch of other clueless job seekers.  I guess the interview went well because they “hired” me on the spot, though I still hadn’t figured out what I was supposed to do.  My new boss took me in his car for training and we drove out to a nearby residential neighborhood.

                  Suddenly, I realized what this was – door-to-door sales!  For those who have done this, I have a real respect for you. You get the door slammed in your face again and again and again and need to just keep smiling. It’s very, very hard.  We were selling some kind of golf coupon, and to my surprise a couple people actually seemed interested (who knew door-to-door still worked).

                  But the more my boss talked about the job, the crazier it started to sound.  I mean, this guy was absolutely convinced he would make his millions this way.  All he had to do (so he told me) was get X number of people working for him, and then those people would go and recruit X number of underlings, and so on, while he got a cut.  This was pre-Madoff, remember.  He said his boss’s boss’s boss had this huge mansion that he’d been to, and that someday that was going to be him.

                  Well, as I was pondering this, I had a more immediate realization – I hated it.  It combined several things I didn’t like: (i) I’m shy around strangers, (ii) I felt guilty trying to get them to buy this coupon (I’ve never golfed a day in my life) and (iii) I felt like I was invading their privacy.  Hell, when door-to-door salesmen came to my house, I got pissed off (I’ve since become much more polite)!

                  I quit after lunch.  I’d lasted 4 hours.  My dreams of Sarajevo were slipping through my fingers…

                  In retrospect, I think this experience may have contributed to my lack of sales mojo.  As an entrepreneur, you’re salesman-in-chief.  It doesn’t matter if you’re a genius coder or have zeroed in on the perfect market opportunity – if you can’t sell it, you fail.  And you can’t delegate this either – you need to be learning yourself why people buy and don’t buy your product.

                  I think part of the problem is the Technologist’s Handicap: as the creator of the product, you see all its limitations, all the bugs, all the places where you know it will get better with time.  Also, you have a rationalist, logical mindset, you want to give people all the data and let them come, through a process of careful analysis, to the inevitable conclusion that your widget is worth its price.  And technologists notoriously under-price.  You don’t present hype, you present an argument. Sure, you can talk passionately about all the technological mountains you’ve summited, but your customers won’t care.

                  What I’ve been told (and am continuously working on) is that sales is really about listening.  You listen to your customer’s problems, sympathize with them, feel their pain, and only then humbly suggest your wonderful widget as a solution.  All easier said than done – and this presupposes you’re actually able to get in front of them in the first place.

                  Have other technologically-oriented founders experienced this?  I’d love to hear.

                  Anyway, the story actually has a happy ending.  I tried another job (“Political Activists Wanted!”) – they’d pay you to collect signatures for ballot initiatives in Safeway parking lots.  I don’t think this was quite what the Progressive Movement had in mind when they created the initiative and referendum system…  Well, that job didn’t last either.  I ended up installing a drip sprinkler system in my neighbor’s yard with a friend, and loved it.  We were outside, figuring out how to make this thing work without flooding the kitchen and getting paid for it.  By August, I was happily Balkanized.

                    11 Things To Expect When You Become An Entrepreneur

                    Being an entrepreneur isn’t for everybody.  I tend to think it’s something you’ve either got in your blood or not.  Regardless of the hardships, the excitement, the ups and downs, I think those who have the bug will become entrepreneurs no matter what.  So for those who take the plunge, here are some things I experienced when I started GreenLine Legal.

                    1. You’ll have trouble getting people to pay attention.  If you came from a well-recognized company or firm, that name has real power.  Especially if you were a junior person at your previous employer, people would listen to you because of the brand name (and all that time you thought it was because of the valuable things you say…).  As an entrepreneur, you need to prove yourself, over and over again.

                    2. It can be very lonely.  Starting a company requires you reach far down into your reserve of self-confidence. Remember the scene in “There Will Be Blood” when Daniel Plainview is chipping away by himself in his oil prospecting mine (and then breaks his leg and almost blows himself up)?  You must be comfortable going it alone, though of course having a co-founder or two significantly eases the psychological (and literal) burden.

                    3. Nothing happens unless you make it happen.  If you don’t build your product, nobody else will.  If you don’t sell, market, negotiate, plan, hire, manage or raise capital yourself, it won’t get done.  You lose the comfort of having others to cover for you in a pinch.

                    4. Nobody tells you what to do.  This is perhaps the biggest mental change when you start off on your own.  You can (and should) get advice from those who have been through it before, but nobody will tell you where you need to focus each day.  This is actually one of the best parts of being an entrepreneur once you get used to it.

                    5. You are responsible for what happens.  Responsibility, for those who take it seriously, is hard.  Sure, there are benefits of being in charge, but if things go wrong, you take the blame.

                    6. People won’t understand what you’re doing.  This is particularly true for people who aren’t your target customers.  The usual response that I’ve heard again and again is, “Well, that’s very exciting!”, similar to when you told your parents you wanted to become a rock star.  I think this is really just a cover-up when people think you’re off your rocker and are building some bizarre contraption that nobody will want (though of course this isn’t the case with you…).

                    7. You’ll be afraid.  At least in my book, fear is the inevitable companion to entrepreneurship – fear of screwing up your career, burning through all your money, watching your classmates and former colleagues rise in their professions, rejection by customers and on and on.  Fear is an emotional reaction to risk (risk = uncertainty x severity of consequences), and as such, some people feel more, others less.  But however much anxiety you experience, you need to find a way to live with it.  Reduce risk by (i) decreasing uncertainty and (ii) decreasing the severity of consequences.  Decrease uncertainty by doing things that make it more likely you’ll succeed – listen and understand your customers, carefully budget your resources, get advice from those more experienced than yourself.  Decrease the severity of consequences by taking small steps and scaling – make incremental changes where failure won’t make or break you and don’t incur big expenses before you actually need to.

                    8. You’ll make many mistakes.  You’ll be making decisions in the face of massive uncertainty.  Some of those decisions will be wrong – it’s best to accept this and try to learn from them.  Avoid getting into a decision that is make-or-break by taking incremental steps.

                    9. You’ll hear “no” more than you ever have before.  If you’ve done well in school/work/sports or whatever, you won’t be used to hearing no.  You might have gotten a couple no’s from potential employers or the schools you applied to, but the ratio of no’s to yes’s wasn’t anywhere near where it is when you actually try to sell something new.  It’s hard when people say no.  You want to blame them or think they don’t understand the value of what you’re offering.  But you’ve got to learn from them – they will tell you critically important information if you dig a bit deeper.

                    10. Am I employed?  Starting a company is nothing like “having a job”.  It doesn’t feel like work.  On one hand, it’s lots of fun, but on the other, it’s seven days a week, think-about-while-you-can’t-sleep-at-night, live, breathe, eat, drink work.  It’s gritty.  You’re in the trenches.  If you gave up a decent salary or a well-known employer to start your company, you’ll need to get used to doing without this buttress to your self-esteem.

                    11. High Highs, Low Lows.  It’s a bipolar existence – one day you think your company is going public, the next you’re about ready to start looking for a “real” job.  I wish there was a better way to dampen the swings, but I think until you’re either profitable or at least scaling a verified business model, it’s up and down, over and over again.

                    Again, certainly not for everyone, but if it’s in your blood then nothing else can really compare.  Each day you create something new – it’s the ultimate blank sheet.  The rewards are consummate with the risk, though I believe many entrepreneurs’ minds are wired differently for computing risk.  But whatever you do, successes and failures, ups and downs, just make sure you enjoy the ride.