Once upon a time, a VC told me the world was to be inherited by builders. Ever since, the motions of my life have been set. I’ve spent the last few years entirely immersed in computer science, startups, and everything in between. VCisms have begun rubbing off on me: I catch myself saying words like “orthogonal,” “undifferentiated,” or “high-agency.”
For a while, I believed all the things they said.
“AI will change the world.”
“The cost to build is zero. The only moat will be distribution.”
“The average CS major is doomed. Only 10xers will survive.”
If this truly was the new world, then I had to adapt. I used Lovable to one-shot frontends. I learned how to prompt. I bought OpenAI credits and started building apps. The first-mover advantage would be my sword to wield in the emerging AI-enabled app layer. The world would become infinitely more saturated with apps. If growth was the only moat, then that was what to learn.
Like the VC, I revere “shipping.” That’s why I wrote this blog; I want to “ship” my thoughts. I quickly downloaded all the AI tools and imagined all the different apps I could build, all the ways my workflow could be different.
I shipped, failed. Shipped, failed. My apps peaked at only a few users. I sucked at growth, which was expected. Growth is one of those things you just need to keep doing.
I thought about Paul Graham and David Serena’s notes (suggested to me by VCs).
Great founders never quit.
Things that don’t scale don’t feel impactful, but are.
Distribution is everything.
I kept going and ran more doomed growth, thousands of cold emails to people who couldn’t give two fucks about my apps. Maybe my call-to-actions were shit. Maybe I fucked up my validation and just had no market demand. Or I needed a cofounder.
More cold emails? More things that don’t scale? I didn’t know. I told all my friends about my app, who then downloaded and churned. Maybe my product was shit, maybe my friends didn’t face the problem my app solved. Who knew?
I turned back to the VCs. What were they saying?
“Build in public.”
“Try X growth tactic.”
“Abuse AI.”
And so I tried. The suggested growth tactics didn’t get me anywhere, and I couldn’t muster up the courage to build in public. It’s no surprise that AI content is not particularly compelling. How much of my failure could be attributed to my inability to follow through? Or my desire for immediate returns? Unfortunately, I’d probably say around 80%. Can I blame the VC, who probably knows infinitely more than I do?
Do VCs know what they are talking about? I’m inclined to believe so; I have faith that capital flows to those who allocate it best. I hope they have much more life experience than I do.
Still, what percentage of VC opinions are truly differentiated? Why do X.com VCs constantly search for consensus?
As Peter Thiel said, “the most contrarian thing of all is not to oppose the crowd but to think for yourself.” Is anyone thinking for themselves? To me, VCs are an amorphous mass. They listen to the same podcasts, follow the same people on X, and read the same books. They go to the same schools, work at the same companies, and repeat the same ideas about AI, leanness, founders, or what have you. Did you know people ought to build minimum lovable products instead of minimum viable products? I did, as well as every other “thought leader.” How can this be? If one’s primary avenue of differentiation is thought, why do VCs seem so similar?
The median VC underperforms the market with higher volatility. While exceptional returns exist in top funds, what does this say about the average VC? What an asset class!
Does contrarianism even matter? I have no clue. If one of the few startup truths is that execution > ideas (and most firms cannot execute), can operating expertise be a moat? Have we run out of true, yet controversial ideas? If I pattern match everything to history, what are the chances I overfit onto the past? See the black swan, sometimes the world is just different.
If I’m going to be honest, I hate doing growth. Like most engineer types, I don’t like networking or anything similar. I pray that growth is like playing violin, hating it until you one day learn to enjoy the process. I did it because I wholeheartedly believed what VCs told me, that putting flyers up and interviewing users made your work into something.
I’m not building for VCs anymore. My growth strategy shouldn’t depend on the opinions of random LinkedIn gurus, it should depend on my users. Nothing has changed. I’m still going to cold-DM and run the gauntlet of strategies. I’ll still be doing what the VCs suggest.
But I have no expectations anymore. I will stray from the path. Curiosity drives me, not belief.
I don’t follow VCs because I think they’re right. I follow them because I want to know if they are.
i'll do growth for you lmfao