"Look for what you notice, but no one else sees."
-Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: The Art of Being
Hi Friends,
Thanks for your patience while I’ve kept a low profile over the last year or two while quietly working on a new venture that came about during the pandemic. I started this blog some time ago to share within a small circle of friends, but too much was still in motion, so I had to put a pin in it until I was ready to share more widely. It’s been quite a ride so far but I’ll do my best to bring anyone who's interested up to speed.
What started out as an idea in my head is now a tangible, physical thing that exists in the world, being used by other human beings. And while it's surreal to know what I made up with my imagination has been incorporated into the lives of strangers, I’m not entirely surprised. It's what I'd challenged myself to do, but wasn't sure that I could actually pull off. But look what happened! Achievement unlocked!
I’d often heard the theory that we create our own reality with the thoughts, beliefs, and emotions that we choose to focus our attention on. Even though that all sounded reasonable in theory, words alone have never been enough to move the needle, so I deliberately set out to demonstrate for myself what that would look like in action.
My invention involves a small but significant modification made to an existing consumer product that has remained unchanged for centuries. We're not talking rocket science here or even tech– just some basic-ass supply chain stuff in an emerging market that didn't seem to be on anyone's radar as far as I could see.
The product’s new feature not only addresses a major limitation across an entire industry, it adds a new set of data points and functionality to an ecosystem that didn't exist previously. Naturally, I developed a bunch of other things to work within that system, and now I own an actual corporation with stocks and board meetings, and am the founder & CEO of that startup.
Emerging markets have always been a special interest of mine because so much cool stuff gets left on the table while everyone else is staking their claim that it only takes a fresh pair of eyes and a different perspective to see something that others have missed.
15 years ago, I woke up to find my name The Wall Street Journal after coming up with a random but clever niche business idea that I made up in my head at a traffic light on Steiner and Union. Unbeknownst to me, the business I'd started was one of the first of its kind in the nation, and without any deliberate attempt to do so, I was profiled in the WSJ and became a pioneer in my industry. I was on local TV several times, in a magazine, and even got signed for a development deal to do a reality show, which I ultimately decided against. But it opened all sorts of doors that I'd never even thought to knock on, and didn't know were available to me. Google had become one of my clients, and I eventually landed a job there.
I hadn't worked at a big company before, let alone in an office with more than a handful of people, so it took years before things at Google began to make sense. Along the way, I discovered a whole set of talents I wasn't aware I even had, and accidentally became an inventor on a patent. A PATENT! At Google. WTF?
After noticing a troubling problem with some new technology I'd been using that was built by another company, I casually mentioned the experience I'd had to my manager. He asked what I would do to fix that problem, and I absent-mindedly offered up a simple solution with my approach.
A few days later, some paperwork showed up for me to sign, and that idea was submitted for a patent. I didn't even know I'd said anything noteworthy, but then got to watch my idea go through the US patenting process and become intellectual property. I received a cash payment for my idea, a handsome lucite desk award, and a standing invitation to Google's annual Inventor’s Picnic where I was given a special edition Inventor's shirt each year for my intellectual contribution to the company, which I still find hilarious.
But not for a second did I imagine that my idea would have any real-life significance– until one day when it did. A few years later, a bunch of unflattering headlines appeared in all of the major newspapers exposing the same UX/UI vulnerability that I'd also encountered. I smiled knowing that Google owned the patent for the most simple and straightforward solution to that issue, even though I imagine they give it away for free. But that experience showed me the value of my own ideas for the first time, and I’m eternally grateful to the manager who taught me that.
Besides, I didn't see the upside in telling many people what I was working on until I felt ready. A manufacturer I’d engaged with early on to make one of my products ghosted me when it came time to start production, then released their own product line using my ideas, even though my attorney and I had the correct non-disclosure agreements in place. They’re a big company who presumably bet that I wouldn't sue them.
Recently, my boyfriend was traveling out of state and brought me back a gift, saying it looked exactly like something I would like. He was correct. It was literally my own product idea, and he could hardly believe his eyes when I pulled up the manufacturer's website to prove it. But by that time, I was already super over it. It felt only like a footnote.
As much as that sucked (and believe me-- none of this has been easy!), having that happen after spending my time and savings to get there forced me to pivot rather than give up, and find a stronger and more epic approach. I filed a patent to protect my specific product design, and doubled down on my trademarks and. Then, I branded the absolute fuck out of everything in such a weird and wonderful way, that no other person on Earth could have possibly arrived at the same place had they not walked in my own shoes to get there. Finally, as a middle finger to that previous experience, I open-sourced my original concept and gave the tools away for free so that anyone could make a DIY version at home. Power to the people.
I love knowing that nothing I’m working on would exist had I not left San Francisco at the height of COVID and traveled around the U.S. in uncertain times. As it turns out, the only danger I'd encounter came three weeks into my trip when a deadly hurricane made landfall in the exact town where I happened to be. I’ll spare you the details, but Hurricane Sally was the worst emergency I'd ever been in my entire life, which says a lot if you happen to know me and the kind of places I've traveled. My plans drastically changed as a result of that hurricane. A few weeks later, I quit my job at Google, deciding to earmark that unprecedented time in history as my own, rather than spending the pandemic in video meetings with one day blending into the next.
Instead, I would travel to some of the places in my very own country that I'd always wanted to visit but never had the chance– like Savannah, Nashville, Boston, and New Orleans– just to name a few, and that's exactly what I did. And it changed the trajectory of my life.
Sometimes, when there's an important idea or an emotion that I'm experiencing and want to remember, I have an interesting way of capturing it so it doesn't break my flow as I try to come up with and write down words. I reach for my phone to snap a quick selfie of the moment I'm experiencing, which somehow enables me to recall exactly what I was feeling and understanding in that moment simply by the look in my eyes. And that’s what's happening in this photo, while I stood on an empty beach in St. John towards the end of my pandemic travels.
The entire idea for this new venture came to me in an instant while staring out at the horizon, the same way my previous business idea had come to me at a red light. I didn't have the first clue how to accomplish any of the things I'd just imagined, but I knew they were smart as fuck, and I gave myself three years to figure it out. I took this photo as a binding agreement that I was going to get after it. This is that story.
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