correct me if i’m wrong

I attended the local Hackers and Founders event today in Sunnyvale and an interesting conversation came up: at what point, as an entrepreneur, do you give up doing what you “want” and sell out?

Entrpreneurialism is an interesting endeavor because it creates the illusion of freedom. Most entrepreneurs choose the path of self-employment because they do not want to be ruled by a boss. Instead, they seek “freeedom,” which, in actuality, is an illusion; one simply shifts subserviency from one person in a corporate hierarchy to the direct market forces. One’s customers become one’s boss.

The question naturally arises, that if I were to quit my job, to pursue this idealized fantasy of freedom and do what I “want,” how do I avoid the evolution of my business being drawn to a market niche or customer base that I don’t “want” to serve? You don’t. 

An entrepreneur, in my eyes, ultimately possesses several characteristics. First, a mission. A business must start very focused with an overarching vision that drives it. Sure, Google started out as a white page with ten links on it, but it ultimately sought to organize the world’s information. As an entrepeneur, you are part of an industry, and that industry finds solutions to problems; whether it’s health care, to transportation, to communication, any business fits into a large, overarching bigger picture.

Secondly, you must have nails that need hammering. This isn’t necessarily the same as the vitamin/pill analogy. The analogy follows: when people are sick, they need pills. They have a burning problem that needs a solution. When they are healthy, the use vitamins. They don’t need vitamins, but they are nice to have. When you are building a business, are you building a vitamin or a pill? 

Sure, vitamins can succeed and exist in the market today, albeit niche markets, but this is secondary. What are you building? Is it the solution to problem, or is it a problem seeking solutions? Seems simple enough, but it is surprising how few people truly understand this.

Third, real people must care about your business. This problem is especially prevalent in the Silicon Valley bubble that exists in the 20-mile radius around Stanford. During the building process, ask yourself, do my cousins in rural towns need this? How would my grandmother benefit from this? Could foreigners get this up and running effortlessly?

These three steps will deliver value. Ultimately, entrepreneurialism is a humble pursuit. For this very reason, I chose it as opposed to choosing music as a profession (I play the drums).

Putting yourself in the shoes of the “starving” artist and chasing the artistic dream is unrealistic. Ultimately, there is a trade-off between art and the forces that drive your industry (this could be an entire post unto itself). By the forces that drive your industry, I mean that money must come from somewhere to pay the few musicians (or other types of artists) that can actually make a living. This money often comes from the masses, uneducated in your art form.

Ask yourself–why is Britney Spears or Justin Timberlake so much more popular than Miles Davis or Muddy Waters? Because the former two are simplistic, dumbed-down, easy-to-understand musical renditions that the masses can relate to. Only can an educated and well-versed musician be able to appreciate the space between Miles’ sparse trumpet bursts and truly understand the meaning of “less is more.” 

Thus, a professional musician–and this applies to any art form, be it theater, painting, or even computer programming–must sacrifice the art for the sake of income. Therefore, if you are a true artist, you won’t choose it as a profession, so that you can maintain the sanctity of the art form. 

There is much, much more to write on these topics, but I’m tired and need to go to bed. Please feel free to disagree.