Momentum is an awesome power.
Newtonian Laws weren’t written to explain entrepreneurial inspiration and perspiration, but they may have been influenced by the same understanding. The idea that a body, once set in motion, will continue that motion until otherwise impeded is also a fundamental law of entrepreneurialism.
Often when you meet an entrepreneur, you’ll immediately notice one thing about them. They don’t shut up.
The momentum of one idea turning into another, and another, is the gas in our tank. It propels a thinker to think of more, and rewards them with further ideas, which have potential, potential to disrupt, to change, to improve, and to excite. Dreamers are dreamers because they’re high on the heroin of the potential of their beautiful ideas. There is no room for logic, no room for mathematics, schematics or pragmatics. Chase the dragon, chase the dream.
At the beginning of Lucy Mae Brown, we had drank the kool-aid. Hell, we spiked it with whiskey and redbull for good measure. Admittance to our coven required it, and if you too were a dream junkie, we had a home for you.
The thing we all know about dreamers is that momentum tends to trump organization, planning, and basic business fundamentals. Boring and mundane, those tasks are relegated to the ‘less visionary’ and deemed unnecessary to savants like ourselves, who can iterate elegant (and affordable) solutions out of even the most obstinate of problems (that’s sarcasm, FYI, we’re optimistic idiots, tricked by our own dopamine addled brains into thinking ‘we’ve got this’).
So, drunk on dreams, propelled helplessly by the momentum of what we had started, we cannonballed into the deep end of the pool, and started smashing the place up.
My partner Matt, the owner of the Crime Lab, was one for whom the laws of momentum were specifically written. He was a man of action, regardless of direction or motivation, and took to the demolition like a hooker in a cocaine snowball fight. Eyes wide, a wicked grin on his face, he would hurl framing hammers at shamelessly tacky arched mirrors from across the room. He held anywhere from 3-6 hammers at a time, laughing, cackling, as he whipped each hammer at the offending mirrors. It was a Tarantino symphony of destruction. The crashing of debris, the dust clouds building, italian stucco snowing from the roof, and a lone man, surrounded by mirrors, fending them all off armed only with his insanity, and Estwing framing hammers.
Weeks and months went by, as they do, and the dream was getting constantly beset by distractions. Michael, the other partner, was busy running Allegro Cafe, Matt was running the Crime Lab, and the guy that I had brought in to fill the void at Fiction was turning into a drunken disaster. While Matt and I were busy destroying and building the LMB, our other projects were suffering, and Michael had lost patience long ago for the lack of instant gratification this long term rebuild was delivering. Our personalities were starting to wear thin on each other, and the added stress of our other projects exerted further unneeded pressure.
We were fully in entrepreneurial momentum withdrawl.
The symptoms of withdrawl include blank stares at empty stud walls, heavy drinking, and a manic search for inspiration. Each addict has their own way of dealing, and we were a horrible support group for each other, so we went our separate ways. Matt and Mike were drinking buddies already, and that kept them sated, but I needed the good stuff. I needed big beautiful ideas. Magazines, art, films, New York, San Fran, Paris, grafitti artists, dancers, musicians. I needed to freebase the inspiration directly.
Another law of entrepreneurialism, the law of conservation of energy, states that energy may neither be created nor destroyed. In the face of so much destruction and chaos, one could find it hard to believe, however, one should never argue with science (unless of course, you still think the world is 6 thousand years old. In that case, have at it).
Our momentum had done something special, it had transferred itself to the team around us. The dreamers we had assembled together had picked up the torch, and were fervently spreading the word, enlisting recruits, and telling the story of Lucy. It may not have been a beautiful dream anymore, a sad, tacky old building in the awkward stages of renovation, a partnership fragmenting, and all focus lost, but in their minds it was still beautiful, and they were still fighting for it, even when we had lost faith.
People conduct electricity and energy with a frightening efficiency, and if you don’t believe me go stick your finger in a light socket. Our staff had become the more willing host for the optimism and momentum, and nature followed the path of least resistance to those who would more efficiently carry the energy. While we had burdened ourselves with our staff’s and each others expectations, we had created a toxic environment for the momentum, and it had found a better host.
Ben Franklin, the guy with the kite and the key who tried to prove that lightning wasn’t simply God punishing you for touching yourself (science still can’t fully dispute this theory, part of the reason I never go out in a thunderstorm), surmised that “from electric fire thus obtained spirits may be kindled”.
How right he was.
Our momentum then, once set in motion, stayed in motion. Even when we felt our energy had dissipated, it had only transferred to a more willing host, following the path of least resistance, and that energy, once collected, kindled the spirits of all of us, and created momentum anew.
Science is so cool…