There’s a moment that happens in every conference room, every strategy meeting, every product review. Someone asks a question. A hard one. About the market, the customer, the problem you’re actually solving. And everyone in the room does the same thing: They perform expertise.

“Well, based on our research...”
“The data suggests...”
“Industry best practices indicate...”

They build elaborate structures on foundations of air. They protect their credibility. They sound smart. And the question never gets answered.

I watched this happen last month. Startup, Series A, building something in climate tech. Investor asks: “Do your customers actually want this feature, or is this what you think they should want?” The founder launched into a five-minute explanation about market trends, competitor analysis, user personas. Beautiful presentation.

Total bullshit. Because the actual answer was four words: ”I do not know.”

Here’s what most people miss: Those four words aren’t the end of the conversation. They’re the beginning. The founder could have said: “I don’t know. Let’s discover. We’ll call five customers this week, ask them directly, and report back what changed about our understanding.”

Same four words. But they create a different outcome entirely.

1. “I don’t know” (admission)

This is the hardest part. Not because you don’t know – you already don’t know. You’re just really good at hiding it behind frameworks and jargon and “strategic thinking.”

The hard part is saying it out loud.

Admitting uncertainty feels like professional suicide. Like you’re disqualifying yourself from the room. But here’s the thing: everyone already knows you don’t know. They can smell the performance.

Saying “I don’t know” doesn’t make you look stupid. It makes you look honest.

And honesty creates space. Space to actually figure it out instead of defending a position you’re making up in real-time.

2. “Let’s discover” (action)

This is where the magic happens. This is what separates genuine intellectual humility from imposter syndrome dressed up as wisdom. You don’t just admit uncertainty and shrug. You admit it and move.

Call the customer. Run the experiment. Build the small version. Test the assumption. Do the thing that will replace “I don’t know” with “Now I know.”

Most people skip this. They stay stuck in the admission phase, treating uncertainty like quicksand instead of a starting line. Or worse, they theorize. They workshop. They build decks about what they might discover if they ever actually went looking.

”Let’s discover” requires action, not analysis.

3. “What changed?” (learning)

You made the calls. You ran the test. You shipped the thing. Now comes the part everyone forgets: closing the loop.

What did you learn? What changed about your understanding? What do you now know that you didn’t know before?

It isn’t about being right. It’s about updating your map of reality with new information. Most people are so busy performing growth that they never actually grow.

The four-word sequence only works if you complete it. Admission without action is paralysis. Action without learning is thrashing.

But all four together? That’s how you stop pretending and start building.

The next time you’re in a room and someone asks a hard question, about your customer, your strategy, your actual value proposition, try something radical: Tell the truth. Say “I don’t know.”

Legendary climber Reinhold Messner lost his toes on Nanga Parbat in 1970.

Not all of them – just enough. Enough that technical rock climbing, the discipline he’d mastered, became impossible. His brother Günther died on that mountain. Messner barely made it down alive, frostbitten and broken.

Most people would have called it quits. Hung up the boots. Found a “real job.”

Messner did the opposite.

Unable to rock climb, he pivoted to alpine climbing – big mountains, high altitude, pure suffering. And then he did something nobody thought possible: He climbed all fourteen 8,000-meter peaks on Earth. Without supplemental oxygen. The first person ever to do it.

No oxygen tanks. No shortcuts. Just lungs, legs, and an unbreakable will.

In Werner Herzog’s 1984 documentary The Dark Glow of the Mountains, Messner stands across from the legendary director and drops this bomb:

“I don’t have a normal profession. I never learned one thing that I could say I master. I’ve done a lot of things. I can make a living doing many things. That’s all I need. I can finance my expeditions by selling mountain climbing byproducts. I don’t need anything else. I’m very glad today that I don’t have a profession. I think having one means the end of any kind of creative activity.”

Read that last line again.

”I think having one means the end of any kind of creative activity.”

This is heresy in a world that worships specialization. We’re told from childhood: Pick a lane. Get good at one thing. Build a career. Climb the ladder. Retire with a pension and a plaque.

But Messner understood something most of us miss: A profession is a cage disguised as security.

It’s not that professions are inherently bad. They’re not. They provide structure, income, identity. But they also calcify. They narrow your vision. They turn you into a specialist in one thing and an amateur at everything else. And worst of all, they make you risk-averse. You stop experimenting. You stop exploring. You stop creating.

Because you have too much to lose.

Messner didn’t have that problem. He cobbled together a living from lectures, books, photographs, films – “mountain climbing byproducts,” as he called them. He wasn’t a professional climber in the traditional sense. He was a creator who climbed. And that freedom – that refusal to be boxed in – allowed him to do what no one else could.

And of course, not everyone can afford to live like Messner.

If you’re drowning in debt, supporting a family, or living paycheck to paycheck, the luxury of rejecting a profession isn’t really on the table. Messner’s philosophy requires a baseline of freedom, financial, social, or circumstantial, that not everyone has.

But if you do have that privilege, even a sliver of it, you’re wasting it if you don’t use it.

You don’t need to be the best in the world at one thing. You need to be good enough at several things that, when combined, create something unique. Something only you can do. That’s where the magic happens. That’s where creativity lives.

You’d be forgiven if you thought the title of this post was a typo. Or some weird, butchered Russian word. Or, as a friend of mine, who recently introduced me to the term, said: “I always thought it was some kind of Yiddish thing…”

YCDBSOYA is an acronym. You can get it on tie pins from the 1950s. It stands for “You Can’t Do Business Sitting On Your A$$”.

Before we had productivity apps, life hacks, and 12-step frameworks for success, we had this. A simple, powerful, and slightly abrasive kick in the pants. A reminder that creation, innovation, and success are not passive activities. They are contact sports.

The world is drowning in ideas. We have notebooks full of them, whiteboards covered in them, and Notion docs packed with “the next big thing.” But ideas are cheap. They are potential energy. The magic, the money, and the momentum are all locked in the second half of the equation: Action.

YCDBSOYA is the antidote to the modern epidemic of “analysis paralysis.” It’s the cure for the endless cycle of research, planning, and strategizing that feels like work but produces nothing. It’s the voice in your head that screams, “Enough talk. It’s time to build. It’s time to ship. It’s time to sell.” You don’t learn how to swim from reading a book; you learn by jumping in the damn pool. You don’t build a business by perfecting a slide deck; you build it by making the call, writing the code, and putting your offer in front of a customer.

Action is the ultimate clarifier. It’s only when you’re moving, doing, and engaging with the world that you get real feedback. You can’t steer a parked car. You have to be in motion.

Those old-timers who wore YCDBSOYA on their tie pins understood a fundamental law of the universe: The world doesn’t pay you for what you know; it pays you for what you do with what you know.

Thinking is essential, but it must be a prelude to action, not a substitute for it. Planning is crucial, but it must serve the doing, not delay it.

Now, get up. Go. And build something that matters.

Pardon the double whammy today – but after I (re)launched GYSHIDO this morning and asked you (the amazing Heretic x GYSHIDO community) for tips on how to best make the GYSHIDO book available online, Cristian A. suggested a neat tool that turned out to be a perfect fit.

And as there is no time like the present, I set up a server, ported the book into the new tool – and here it is: the free online edition of the GYSHIDO Principles book!

Enjoy!!

And if you like this – the printed book is truly wonderful and so much fun… consider getting a copy (and I’ll be eternally grateful if you can leave a review on Amazon – the world needs more GYSHIDO, in my humble opinion). 🤗

And we are back… I mentioned this a few weeks ago – time to unveil the new, updated, better, bigger, bolder GYSHIDO manifesto! And I need your help (read to the end…)

As a quick reminder: GYSHIDO (which, of course, stands for “Getting Your Shit Done”), a term originally coined by Will Butler and introduced to me by Daniel Epstein from the amazing Unreasonable Group, started out as a single webpage with seven little principles a dozen years ago. Since then, it has grown into a global movement – the original manifesto was translated into seventeen languages by our community, people have made videos enacting the principles, a university in Germany has created a course teaching the principles to SMEs, and large global corporations have adopted the principles in their offices.

I have always felt that the manifesto is crisp, clear, and incomplete. With its seven rules, it covers some of my core beliefs regarding productivity, but it says little to nothing about leadership and strategy. It's time to fix that.

Three domains, each with seven principles. Twenty-one maxims to guide you through DOing, LEADing, and WINning. Read the manifesto and join the path to becoming a GYSHIDO-San.

Alongside the manifesto, I created a little (red) book. It delves into each principle, provides additional context and insight, and is beautifully illustrated. And this is where I need your help…

I make the book available at the lowest possible price on AMAZON (it literally is the lowest price AMAZON allows me to sell it for) – as it is not about making money but spreading the word. I’d love to make the book available as a free download too. Of course, I can just add a link to a PDF version of the book – but I wonder if there is a better way for people to experience the 80 pages of the “Little Red Book” (short of building out 80 pages on the website)? I’d love your ideas – just hit reply…

And let me know what you think about the new version of GYSHIDO. 🤘🏼

Walt Disney went bankrupt. At just 20 years old, Walt’s first company, Laugh-O-Gram Studio, brought together some of the most talented animators in the world, laid the groundwork for the creation of Mickey Mouse – and was a financial disaster. Before the company went out of business just two short years later, cash was so tight that Walt lived in his office and survived on cold beans from a can and bathed at Union Station because he couldn't afford hot water. He even resorted to catching mice in his office – one of which inspired Mickey Mouse.

After this devastating failure, Walt moved to Hollywood – with virtually no money, he founded Disney Brothers Cartoon Studio (which later became the Walt Disney Company). His fortune didn’t improve, and by the early 1930s, the company was $4 million in debt. Against this backdrop, Walt decided to produce Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs – production was so expensive that it nearly bankrupted the company again. Hollywood called it “Disney’s Folly.” The film’s $1.5 million budget was astronomical for 1937. Walt mortgaged his house, and animators worked unpaid overtime believing in his vision.

Snow White turned out to be a monumental success: Snow White earned $8 million during its initial release, an astronomical sum in 1937 dollars, making it the highest-grossing film of all time until Gone with the Wind. The rest is, as they say in the movies, history…

It takes a special person with strong convictions to endure so much hardship. And yet – nearly every success story, when you peel back the layers and look closely, resembles Walt’s nightmare fairy tale. Here’s what separates dreamers from builders: When Laugh-O-Gram collapsed, Walt had every reason to return to his father’s farm in Missouri. Instead, he borrowed $40 from his uncle and bought a one-way ticket to Hollywood. Ask yourself: Would you bet everything – your home, your reputation, your last dollar – on something everyone calls a folly? Walt did. Because when you truly believe in what you’re building, bankruptcy is just another problem to solve.

Like it or not – this is reality. It’s the reality that media (typically) doesn’t talk about. Doing something that matters requires, first and foremost, that it actually matters (to YOU) – without conviction that the thing you do is something worth fighting for, you don’t even have a shot at making it. When the going gets tough (and it will, trust me), you need to have a rock-solid foundation of belief – believe that what you do matters.

Build what matters – the rest is just problems waiting for solutions.

Have you ever noticed how some songs sound loud but strangely lifeless? That’s not just your imagination – it’s the result of over-compression, a trick sound engineers use to make music louder, but at a cost to both quality and, surprisingly, your ears. Compression “squishes” music: loud parts become quieter, quiet parts louder, making everything sound equally loud. This boosts punchiness on small speakers, but strips away nuance and, as new research suggests, may even harm your hearing.

Why am I telling you this? Yes, it’s a bit of a PSA (public service announcement) – but no, this post isn’t about music; it is about AI. Let me explain…

Just as compression flattens music, the flood of AI-generated content flattens our online conversations. The composer Claude Debussy called music the space between the notes. What’s true for music is true for content in general. And we are drowning in AI-generated slop – the text equivalent of compressed music.

Just take a look at your LinkedIn timeline – I am positively sick and tired of the telltale AI-generated post: They are all 1,000 to 1,500 characters long, broken into individual paragraphs after one or two sentences, full of emojis, stuffed with oddly specific tags, have weirdly bolded text (and em-dashes galore), and end with an engagement-creating question. A good 70% of my LinkedIn timeline is now filled with this stuff – and all it tells me is that the person posting this doesn’t care, they have nothing to say, and they are doing whatever they are doing just for the clicks.

True, engaging writing is the space between the sentences. The original thought conveyed in your voice. Warts and all.

Nobody wants or needs to listen to ChatGPT’s thoughts on whatever it is you think is important – have something to say? Say it. Next time you write, don’t flatten your voice. Embrace the pauses, the quirks, the real opinions. That’s what makes you and your content worth reading.

It’s been a hot minute since we last spoke. I didn’t disappear; I just got busy… Busy with radical✦, my advisory firm, busy with building out our bi-weekly Briefing (which you absolutely should subscribe to – two times a week you will get our latest research and insights on the future of technology and business), our free resources (check it out – we make a bunch of our best tools available for free for you), and busy with working on GYSHIDO. Yes, GYSHIDO – the brutally honest, no-BS productivity movement we launched some dozen years ago.

As you might have realized, The Heretic is now in a collab with GYSHIDO (just think NIKE and Travis Scott) – and you will see me in your inbox more often again. AND I am working on something I am insanely excited about – when we launched GYSHIDO, it launched with a small set of seven principles, a homemade logo, and a website. Over the years, we added an epic robot design by the wonderful folks at DOJO4 and eleven translations contributed by the community. In the next few weeks, we will GYSHIDO the GYSHIDO – stay tuned; it’s going to be fun!

In the meantime – I am excited to be back! More from me (and a proper Heretic post) tomorrow.

Onward!

On a sunny, cloudless day in the summer of 2012, I found myself sitting in one of the classically uncomfortable seats at Denver International Airport, waiting for my connecting flight to depart. At 6 feet 4 inches (or 1.96 meters), I am, by most measures, tall. I am also fairly skinny – back in 2012, while training for a series of ultramarathon races, my body fat was down to around 5%, and I weighed around 165 lbs / 75 kilograms. This means that when I encounter people who are as tall as I am, they tend to be heavier – think basketball players, rather than super tall, skinny runners.

As I was trying to make myself comfortable in my seat, I spotted a well-dressed gentleman sitting opposite me. Like me, he was skinny and tall. When the gate agent called our flight, we both leaped out of our seats – happy to get moving and out of our hard, pokey chairs. My fellow traveler, dressed meticulously in a tailored suit, bent down and grabbed his suitcase – which was the exact moment I realized that he was a full head taller than I.

I must have looked at him in utter disbelief – see, when I encounter people who are noticeably taller than me, they tend to be broad-shouldered giants, not skinny stick figures like myself. Upon seeing my facial expression (eyes widened, mouth slightly open – a mixture of awe and shock), he looked down at me and said, with a perfect deadpan pitch in his voice:

“There is always someone taller than you.”

And with that, he turned around, walked off, and boarded the flight.

For a split second, the earth stood still for me, the (nonexistent) clouds parted, and a divine message manifested itself: for pretty much anyone, everywhere, there is always someone taller, smarter, faster, better than you…

Stay humble. Stay hungry.

There once was a startup. The founders, plagued by a problem they encountered in their own lives, went out into the world to seek a solution. They spoke to countless others who shared their plight, listening intently to their woes and wishes.

With determination in their hearts and fire in their eyes, they returned to their humble garage and began to craft a magical device. Day and night they toiled, fueled by the stories of those they’d met. Their creation grew more wondrous with each passing moon, for it was born from the very essence of the people’s needs.

Word of their marvelous invention spread far and wide. Soon, a steady stream of grateful customers beat a path to their door. The startup flourished, and their little garage became a bustling workshop filled with clever artisans and inventors.

But as their success grew, so did the complexity of their operation. The founders, once focused solely on their customers’ joy, found themselves tangled in a web of ledgers, schedules, and protocols. They hired wise sages to manage their expanding kingdom, each bringing new systems and processes.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the workshop’s gaze turned inward. The once-lively debates about customer needs were replaced by discussions of efficiency metrics and organizational charts. The magical device, once the heart of their endeavor, became but one cog in a great machine of bureaucracy.

One day, a customer visited the workshop, clutching the magical device. “It no longer works as it once did,” the customer said softly. “It doesn’t understand me anymore.”

I have seen this fable play out too many times to count. Don’t be that startup. Never lose focus on what matters most: the problem, the customer, and your solution.

Dee Hock, the founder of VISA (the world’s largest credit card payment system), was one of the eminent thinkers in management and organizational theory. As a lifelong student of Hock, his work and insights, I came across the following — which I thought about summarizing in my own words but realized that it’s too good to be butchered by me.

On Leadership

“I used to have sessions with my employees once a week. Anyone could come, and we’d talk about anything on their minds. They always wanted to talk about management. ‘How do you do it?’ ‘What’s the best way?’ So I would ask them, ‘What is the single most fundamental responsibility of a manager?’

And I’d get a thousand different answers, all having one thing in common: They would be downward looking. They always had something to do with controlling those folks over whom they had power.”

At this point, Hock’s audiences usually smile expectantly: Isn’t that what management is about?

“Dead wrong,” says Hock, who waits for the confusion to settle in. “The first responsibility of anyone who purports to manage is to manage themselves.” What?

Hock continues, “Their own integrity, their own knowledge, and their own ability, conduct, knowledge, ethics, and wisdom. Unless you do that, you’re not fit for authority, no matter how much you acquire. You’re not fit; you’re dangerous. You’re going to be destructive.

“And then I’d ask what the second responsibility is. And, boy, they’d think they were going to get those folks now. Dead wrong. The second responsibility is to manage your bosses. If they don’t trust, respect, and support you, how are you possibly going to do anything with your people? Managing your staff is useless if you can’t manage your boss.

“So, then I’d ask for the third responsibility of anyone who’s a manager - downward looking again. So, I’d say, ‘Dead wrong! Manage your peers, those over whom you have no authority and who have none over you. If you can’t manage them, how are you going to do anything with your people?’

“Then I’d ask, ‘What’s the fourth responsibility?’ And by then, everyone would be looking around. No one wanted to be wrong again. The fourth responsibility is to manage your staff.”

Hock likes to test his audience. “If you hire good people and teach them the theory and if they manage themselves, you, and their peers well and they hire good people and are willing to be well-managed by them, what do you have to do but recognize them, reward them, and get out of the way?” (Laughter, relief, and a few questioning looks.)

Hock responds to the unasked questions: How do you manage your boss? How do you manage your peers? He faces a sea of wide eyes with a calm smile.

“Well, the answer is incredibly simple. You can’t. There’s no way. You have no power over superiors and peers. But can you understand them? Can you motivate them? Excite them? Persuade them? Influence them? Set an example? Inform, forgive, and interest them? Disturb them? Of course you can. And eventually the work will emerge. Can you lead them? Absolutely.”

Hock contends that there is nothing that can stop anyone from setting an example. He tells audiences, “The truth is that you were born a leader.” (Raised eyebrows)

“You think not? Then, one of you stand up and deny that you managed your parents.” (Laughter.) “You were leading yourself, your superiors, and your peers from the day you were born until you were sent to school and taught to manage.”

The Evolutionary Vision of Dee Hock: From Chaos to Chaords by Bonnie Durrance (Training and Development. Copyright 1997, the American Society for Training and Development.)

There is a fantastic story told by bodybuilding legend Arnold Schwarzenegger:

I’ll always remember the first time someone asked me questions in the gym. It was about their legs. They said they couldn’t grow, and they wanted to know which exercises to add to their routine to hit the thighs. First, I said, “Let’s see your squat.” And they said, “My squats are fantastic. I can squat 405.” They got the weight on their back and lowered it approximately 2 inches, and came back up. That’s when I learned that people have a habit of looking for the next big thing when they haven’t spent any time mastering the simple thing in front of them.

I have seen the same thing play out over and over again in startups and corporations around the world—people get excited, start something, mistake early progress for mastery, and move on. The startup founder mistaking the feedback from their first customers (who are all family members) as proof that they have achieved product/market fit. The executive looking at the “exponential” user growth, ignoring the fact that the absolute numbers are tiny.

If life were a video game, we would cheat our way through the first few levels and the first real boss fight, just to say we achieved mastery. But we are far from it. True mastery is found when we hone our skills over and over again until we are truly good at it. We keep refining, gathering, and incorporating feedback, understanding that it’s a process, that the journey is what makes us great, and that there will never be a moment we are “done.”

Cherish the simple, the basics, the foundations. They are what you will build your empire on.

First things first—it has been a while. As you have undoubtedly realized, my Heretic posting schedule has slowed to a crawl. Which doesn’t mean I don’t post—I just happen to post (twice a week) on the radical Briefing. Check it out; you might like it!

With this out of the way, let’s talk about GyShiDo.

GyShiDo?

Yes, GyShiDo. The Art of Getting Your Shit Done. 😁

More than a decade ago, Daniel Epstein, Will Butler, and I created—somewhat as a practical joke, but also dead serious—the GyShiDo Manifesto, after realizing that our individual superpowers were simply that we do get things done. I wrote down some principles, registered the domain, launched a website (all in a mad 48-hour GyShiDo session—you have to be true to yourself!), and left it at that. A month later, a design agency donated the robot graphics, and over the years, many GyShiDo-Sans have translated the principles into twelve additional languages.

It’s time for GyShiDo Version 2.

Over the last two decades, I have collected a set of principles that go beyond the productivity rules of GyShiDo—extending the way of the GyShiDo-San into strategy and leadership (*). It’s going to be a tiny coffee table book, it’s going to be beautifully illustrated, and it’s going to be amazing. And we are doing this together…

As I am codifying the principles, I am going to share them here. You will see—they are short and to the point. And as they are short, I want to get the wording just right. In addition to sharing all the content here, I will share a link to a shared Google Doc—if you have comments, refinements, or want to wordsmith, please hop into the shared doc and leave a comment. Make sure you drop your name in the comment so that I can give you credit in the book!

Time to get started, time to Poke Life (this is the opening chapter).

In 1994, after being fired from the company he founded and later returned to, Steve Jobs found himself desperately clinging to his struggling venture, NeXT Computer. In a rare interview from that time, a deeply thoughtful Jobs reflected on life and its deeper meanings.

“The thing I would say is that when you grow up, you are often told that the world is the way it is and that your role is simply to navigate it—trying not to bump into walls too much, aiming for a nice family life, having fun, and saving a little money. However, this is a very limited life. Life can be much broader. Once you discover one simple fact—that everything around you, which you call life, was created by people no smarter than you—you realize that you have the power to change it. You can influence it, and you can build your own things for others to use. The moment you understand that you can poke life and that something will pop out on the other side, you see that you can change and mold it. That’s maybe the most important thing.”

GyShiDo is for everyone who wants to poke life.

↗ Link to the Google Doc.

(*) Here is a fun one: Productivity, Strategy, and Leadership are PSL. If you happen to be a Starbucks customer (particularly in the US), you will chuckle now…*

Are you optimizing your systems? Keeping a tight ship and making sure the trains run on time? Have your OKRs and KPIs been closely tracked?

You might want to rethink this...

Reed Hastings, the uber-successful founder of Netflix (and disruptor of the status quo in the entertainment industry—a true heretic), once remarked:

Most companies overoptimize for efficiency… The nonintuitive thing is that it is better to be managing chaotically if it’s productive and fertile. Think of the standard model as clear, efficient, sanitary, sterile. Our model is messy, chaotic, and fertile. In the long term, fertile will beat sterile.

We live in an increasingly complex, uncertain, and ambiguous environment—one where a premium is placed on adaptability, innovation, and resilience. The old paradigms of rigid control and optimization might be holding you back more than propelling you forward.

Consider this: What if the key to thriving in our rapidly evolving world isn't about tightening the reins, but about loosening them? What if the secret sauce isn't in perfecting your systems, but in creating space for chaos to breed creativity?

Reed Hastings' insight cuts to the core of a counterintuitive truth: fertile chaos often outperforms sterile order in the long run. But how do we harness this chaos without descending into anarchy?

The answer lies in embracing a new organizational paradigm—one that balances order and chaos, structure and flexibility. It's about creating an ecosystem where ideas can collide, mutate, and evolve freely, while still maintaining a sense of purpose and direction.

Here's what this might look like in practice:

1. Cultivate purpose, not just processes. Ensure your team is aligned on the 'why' behind your mission, then give them the freedom to figure out the 'how'.

2. Encourage dissent and diversity of thought. The most innovative solutions often emerge from the friction between differing perspectives.

3. Create permeable boundaries. Allow information, ideas, and talent to flow freely within and beyond your organization.

4. Embrace failure as a learning opportunity. A 'failed' experiment often teaches us more than a 'successful' one that merely confirms what we already know.

5. Foster self-organization. Trust your team to form and re-form around challenges and opportunities as they arise.

6. Lead through influence, not control. Your role is to set the conditions for success, not to dictate every move.

Remember, the goal isn't to eliminate all structure—it's to create a framework flexible enough to adapt to change and robust enough to withstand shocks. It's about finding that sweet spot between chaos and order where innovation thrives.

So, fellow Heretics, I challenge you: Dare to loosen those reins. Embrace a little productive chaos. Create an environment where ideas can collide, combine, and create something truly revolutionary. In this new world, it's not the most efficient or the most optimized who will survive—it's the most adaptable.

Ah, the glamorous life of an entrepreneur. Private jets, lavish parties, changing the world in a hoodie. It’s the stuff dreams are made of, right?

Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but that’s a load of crap. The real entrepreneurial journey is less “champaign wishes and caviar dreams” and more “lukewarm coffee and cold sweats at 3am.” It’s a gritty, messy, nightmare-fueled rollercoaster. And you know what? That’s precisely how it should be.

The Myth of Overnight Success

We love a good overnight success story. Some wunderkind drops out of college, writes a few lines of code, and BAM - they’re gracing the cover of Forbes. But here’s the thing: that narrative is about as real as a unicorn driving a flying Tesla.

In reality, entrepreneurship is a long game. It’s countless hours toiling away on something most people think is crazy. It’s failing, repeatedly, and finding the grit to get back up. It’s realizing that “overnight success” is usually the result of years of blood, sweat, and tears. Glamorous? Hardly. But it’s the truth.

Nightmares: The Unlikely Fuel of Innovation

So why put yourself through the wringer? Why endure the nightmares that come with building something from nothing? Because those nightmares are where the magic happens.

Every groundbreaking innovation, every world-changing idea, was once just a crazy dream. The Wright brothers were mocked for believing humans could fly. People thought Edison had lost his mind for wanting to harness electricity. And let’s not forget how many times Steve Jobs was called a lunatic.

But here’s the secret: those nightmares, those moments of doubt and fear, are what separate the dreamers from the doers. Embracing the nightmares means you’re willing to push past the naysayers and make your crazy vision a reality. It means you have the audacity to believe you can change the world.

The Beauty in the Struggle

So if you’re an entrepreneur in the trenches, take heart. Those long nights, those gut-wrenching setbacks, those “what the hell am I doing” moments - that’s the stuff greatness is made of.

Embrace the nightmares. Revel in the struggle. Because at the end of the day, you’re not just living the dream - you’re forging a legacy. And that, my friends, is worth every terrifying, exhilarating moment.

So buckle up and enjoy the ride. It’s time to make your wildest nightmares come true.

John Lilly, my former boss and then-CEO of Mozilla, once offered a piece of advice so obvious it seems absurd: build products that don’t suck. This was back when Firefox was running circles around Internet Explorer, delivering a vastly superior web browsing experience. Simple, right?

Apparently not. In the relentless pursuit of profits, countless companies have forgotten this fundamental rule. They cut corners, skimp on quality, and prioritize short-term gains over long-term customer satisfaction. It’s a recipe for disaster.

The Slippery Slope of Suckiness

Once you start compromising on product quality, you’re on a downward trajectory that’s hard to recover from. It starts with a few minor issues that you convince yourself aren’t a big deal. But those small problems compound over time, eroding user trust and loyalty.

Before you know it, you’re in a death spiral. Your once-happy customers start looking for alternatives, and your reputation takes a nosedive. You may try to course-correct with hasty improvements, but by then, it’s often too late. The damage is done.

The Temptation of Quick Wins

So why do companies fall into this trap? It usually comes down to the allure of quick wins and easy money. In a world obsessed with rapid growth and quarterly earnings, it’s tempting to sacrifice product quality for a temporary boost in profits.

But this shortsighted thinking ignores the long-term consequences. Sure, you might get a brief surge in revenue by cutting corners, but you’re also setting yourself up for future failure. It’s like eating junk food every day—it might taste good in the moment, but it’s ruining your health over time.

Staying True to Your Principles

The solution is simple, but not easy: stay true to yourself, your product, and your customers. This means investing in quality, even when it’s not the fastest or cheapest option. It means prioritizing user experience over short-term metrics. And it means having the courage to say no to tempting but ultimately harmful decisions.

Will this approach lead to explosive growth overnight? Probably not. But it will build a solid foundation for long-term, sustainable success. You’ll cultivate a loyal user base that trusts your product and evangelizes it to others. You’ll foster a reputation for excellence that attracts top talent and partners. And you’ll be able to sleep at night knowing you haven’t sold out your principles for a quick buck.

In a world where mediocrity is the norm, building products that don’t suck is a powerful differentiator. It’s not just good business – it’s the right thing to do. So take a stand against the tide of suckiness, and commit to creating something truly exceptional. Your users (and your future self) will thank you.

In a world saturated with information and distractions, the ability to communicate a clear, compelling narrative is a superpower. As an entrepreneur or business leader, crafting the right story can make all the difference in winning over customers, investors, and the public.

This insight was pithily expressed by political consultant Arthur Schmidt in his advice to General Electric in the early 20th century: “Campaigns are won not by the candidate or company with the best character or product, but by the one with the simplest and most clearly told story.” Or as his colleague Comstock summarized it decades later: “Pick a simple story and tell it again, and again, and again.”

This principle has been wielded to great effect by master marketers and leaders throughout history. Steve Jobs made Apple an icon by telling a simple story of rebels and misfits who “Think Different” and challenge the status quo. Subway became the largest fast food chain in the US by hammering a simple message of healthy, low-fat meals.

The takeaway is clear: In a complex, noisy world, simplicity cuts through. Customers don’t have the time or attention span to absorb nuanced value propositions or complicated product pitches. They’re drawn to crisp, focused, emotionally resonant narratives.

As an entrepreneur, distilling your mission and message into a simple, sticky story is one of the highest-leverage investments you can make. A clear narrative acts as a focusing mechanism, guiding your team and shaping every customer touchpoint. It’s the foundation for viral word-of-mouth and the key to occupying mental real estate.

So ask yourself: What’s my company’s simple story? How can I boil down our essence and unique value prop into a clear, compelling narrative? What’s the tagline that captures it all?

Simplicity doesn’t mean dumbing things down or leaving out important details. It means stripping away the extraneous to reveal the essential. Finding the core, and telling that story again and again and again.

In a world of complexity, whoever tells the simplest story wins. Make yours unforgettable.

The beloved brainstorm. The darling child of corporate innovation. The magic bullet that will solve all our creative woes.

Or so we’ve been told.

Brainstorms are a colossal waste of time.

They’re the equivalent of trying to catch fish by throwing a bunch of hooks into the water and hoping something bites. It’s inefficient, ineffective, and frankly, a bit delusional.

So why do brainstorms fail so miserably? Let’s break it down:

Production Blocking: The Waiting Game

In most brainstorms, only one person can speak at a time. While others wait their turn, their ideas evaporate faster than a puddle in the Sahara. Even worse, as people hear similar ideas, they second-guess their own, leading to a vicious cycle of self-censorship. Studies have shown that the larger the group, the more pronounced this problem becomes. It’s like trying to have a meaningful conversation at a crowded bar—good luck with that.

Evaluation Apprehension: The Fear Factor

Let’s face it, most people are terrified of being judged by their peers. In a group setting, this fear is amplified tenfold. Participants clam up, afraid to share anything remotely unconventional for fear of ridicule. And who usually suggests the brainstorm in the first place? The big cheese at the top of the org chart. Is it any wonder most ideas come from their end of the table? It’s a classic case of power dynamics stifling creativity.

Free Riding: The Disposable Idea Syndrome

The more ideas a group generates, the less each individual idea seems to matter. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, except the haystack keeps getting bigger with each passing minute. As the quantity of ideas balloons, their perceived value plummets. People become less invested in their contributions, viewing them as disposable rather than precious. And when people feel their ideas don’t matter, they stop sharing the really good stuff.

The Illusion of Productivity

But the real kicker? Brainstorms make us feel productive, even when we’re spinning our wheels. There’s something satisfying about filling up a whiteboard with post-it notes, even if 99% of them are useless. It’s the illusion of progress, the false sense of accomplishment. But in reality, we’re just going through the motions, patting ourselves on the back for a job not-so-well done.

The alternative? Ditch the group ideation sessions and embrace individual creativity. Give people the time and space to think deeply, without the pressure of performing for an audience. Encourage them to bring their fully-formed ideas to the table, rather than half-baked notions thrown out on the fly. And most importantly, create a culture where dissent and unconventional thinking are celebrated, not stifled.

Now excuse me, I have some thinking to do…

To the day a dozen years ago, Silicon Valley legend Guy Kawasaki published a blog post lamenting the all-too-common phenomenon of what he called the “bozo explosion.” A company experiences a bozo explosion when a formerly brilliant team, consisting of A-players, makes the strategic mistake of hiring their first B-player (often in the name of growth... need those warm bums in seats!) and lets those B-players hire their own people.

The problem with B-players is not that they are “less than” A-players; the issue is that B-players, usually driven by the deadly combination of fear and ego, start hiring C-players. C-players hire D-players, and so on until you reach the end of the alphabet (and your company has turned into mediocrity at best).

Multiple times in my career, I have had the fortune to be in the presence of insanely high-achieving and functioning teams - in the early 2000s at eBay and in the late 2000s at Mozilla (and, I would argue, every time I worked on my own companies). I have also seen the bozo explosion take hold at places big and small. It is real.

But here is where I tend to see the world a little differently than the original concept (which predates Guy and his blog post): I don’t believe in alphabetizing people. I have seen people of all ilks deliver absolutely outstanding results regardless of whether they are considered an A-player. In other words, anyone has the potential to be an amazing contributor.

It is on us to create the environment to allow people to become the very best version of themselves. Start by giving people an A – and allow them to live up to it. Which is pretty much the opposite of the prevailing strategy of “proof me you are worth it.” Build an environment of trust – nothing creates high-performing teams more than trust (see Google’s seminal work on psychological safety).

The Bozo explosion is real and not inevitable.

Serendipity – that magical, almost mystical phenomenon that seems to lurk around corners, waiting to spring upon us when we least expect it. But what if I told you that serendipity isn’t just a happy accident but a process that can be dissected into three core characteristics?

First comes the serendipity trigger, that moment of stumbling upon something unusual or unexpected. Picture yourself walking through a forest and finding a rare flower you’ve never seen before – that’s your trigger. It’s the universe’s way of saying, “Hey, look here! There’s something worth your attention.” Kindle your curiosity, and you will never be starved of serendipity triggers.

But seeing the flower isn’t enough. The magic happens when you connect the dots. It’s about taking that moment of discovery and linking it to something seemingly unrelated, realizing the potential value within the chance event. Maybe that flower leads you to develop a new, groundbreaking herbal medicine. This is your Eureka moment, where curiosity meets insight. For this to work, you need to foster a miles-wide inventory of insights – become curious about things that happen outside of your well-trodden path.

Yet, the journey doesn’t end with the realization. What truly defines serendipity is the blend of sagacity and tenacity required to follow through and create an unexpected positive outcome. It’s one thing to have a brilliant idea flash across your mind; it’s another to pursue it with vigor and determination, turning what was once a mere chance encounter into a tangible, impactful reality.

While a particular chance encounter is an event, serendipity itself is a multifaceted process. It’s not just about being in the right place at the right time but also about having the wisdom to see the connection and the grit to pursue it to fruition.

So, remember, the next time serendipity winks at you, it’s not just a fleeting moment of fortune but a call to action, an invitation to embark on a journey of discovery, connection, and ultimately, creation. Or, as Seneca the Younger remarked some 2,000 years ago: Luck is what happens when opportunity meets preparation.