I went to a startup networking event in San Francisco this past week. One of the students I met was an incoming freshman at Berkeley. As a rising senior, I wanted to do my part as a Good Samaritan.
“Let me know if you need any advice!” I chirped.
He shrugged. “I’m planning to drop out after the first week. I just raised a couple million for my startup.”
He wasn’t the only Steve-Jobs-in-the-making that I met throughout the night. There were countless founders, investors, and child prodigies. One fourteen-year-old had a full-time job in venture capital.
Being the most under-qualified person in a room is exhilarating. You have little to lose, and everything to gain.
But it is also exhausting. I left the event feeling unsure about my potential, achievements, and career path.
I have a vague memory of writing something for my book about social comparison theory. When I sat down to write this newsletter, I thought to look for it . As I flipped through the pages, I began reading.
It’s been a while since I’ve read my book. It’s been collecting dust on my desk since last August, when it first came out. I expected to cringe, but I was left feeling oddly content. In a room of pitch-ready Bay Area startup founders, I had little value to offer. But back in my room, sitting by myself, I remembered that I was proud of my work.
The world of innovation is focused on scale—you want to raise as much money as possible, so you can grow as much as possible, so you can impact as many people as possible. Success is success because it is quantifiable.
My book never reached quantifiable success. I barely sold copies in the hundreds, let alone thousands or millions. Most of our creations are like that. Regardless of if you’re Steve Jobs or a twenty-something-old with a newsletter, our creations all start with nothing to their name. Their “success” is instead measured by their ability to spark joy, wonder, emotion within ourselves. Their success is measured by our love for it. Growth is the optional bonus.
Other people’s growth trajectory, then, can be a source of inspiration instead of a benchmark. When we are surrounded by people who have all found success differently, we have endless opportunity to learn. The diversity in paths we all take to share our creativity with the world is something to be celebrated.
One person may seek a venture capitalist at 14. Another may contact their first trade show at 40. I call up bookstores at 21. We will all end up sweating at the same cramped networking event anyways.
