How I Built This

How I Built This Plot Summary

Introduction

Have you ever stood at the edge of a dream, heart racing with both excitement and fear, wondering if you have what it takes to bring your vision to life? The entrepreneurial journey is perhaps one of the most misunderstood paths in modern society. We celebrate the success stories—the Dysons and the Disneys—but rarely glimpse the messy middle where most of the work happens. What separates those who merely dream from those who build lasting legacies isn't superhuman talent or fearlessness, but rather a set of navigational skills that can be learned and refined. This journey from vision to legacy follows a map that successful entrepreneurs have been quietly using for generations. Through intimate stories of triumph and failure, we'll explore how visionaries find their purpose at the intersection of passion and problem-solving, how they distinguish between fear and genuine danger when taking their first leap, and how they navigate the inevitable storms that threaten to sink even the most promising ventures. You'll discover practical wisdom about funding your dream without losing control, creating authentic buzz in a noisy marketplace, finding the perfect partner to complement your strengths, and protecting what you've built from those who would copy or steal it. These lessons, drawn from the experiences of those who've walked this path before, will serve as your compass as you chart your own course.

Chapter 1: Finding Your Why: The Intersection of Passion and Problem-Solving

Lisa Price never intended to build a beauty empire. In the early 1990s, while working as a writer's assistant on The Cosby Show, she spent her evenings mixing homemade lotions and creams in her Brooklyn kitchen. These weren't products she planned to sell—they were solutions to her own dry skin problems, stored in simple Tupperware containers in her cupboard. Using natural ingredients like cocoa butter and essential oils, Lisa created formulations that worked better for her skin than anything she could find in stores. The turning point came when Lisa's mother, Carol, suggested she sell her creations at their church's upcoming flea market. "Really, Mommy? Do you think people would pay for this?" Lisa asked skeptically. With just $100 investment in materials, table rental, and flowers for decoration, Lisa set up her booth—and was shocked when she sold out completely. Even then, she viewed this success as merely a fun side project, not the beginning of a business. What transformed Lisa's hobby into a genuine entrepreneurial pursuit was an episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show she watched in August 1993. A guest on the show defined passion as something you'd willingly get out of bed in the middle of the night to do. "I remember sitting on the edge of my bed and saying, 'Wait a minute. Maybe this could be a business,'" Lisa recalled. She realized her products weren't just addressing her own needs—they were solving problems for countless women of color whose skin care needs had been systematically ignored by mainstream beauty companies. This intersection—where personal passion meets problem-solving—is where the most successful businesses are born. Lisa Price didn't just create products she loved; she created products that filled a genuine market gap. "This was not something that you could walk into a drugstore and say, 'Oh, look at that. This is fantastic,'" she remembered. "It wasn't there. There was definitely a community that was not being served." Her company, Carol's Daughter (named in honor of her mother), would eventually be acquired by L'Oréal, but its origins were in this perfect alignment of passion and purpose. The lesson here reveals a pattern seen in countless successful ventures: entrepreneurs exist at the convergence of three identities. There's the hobbyist, who creates out of pure passion. There's the tinkerer, who solves problems for themselves. And finally, there's the entrepreneur, who recognizes when their passion project solves problems for many others. When you find yourself at this intersection, you've discovered your "why"—the purpose that will sustain you through the inevitable challenges of building a business. Finding your why isn't just about identifying a profitable opportunity; it's about discovering a mission that will fuel you when motivation wanes and obstacles seem insurmountable. When you're building something that genuinely matters to you and addresses a real need in the world, you'll find the resilience to persevere when others might give up. Your why becomes your compass, guiding decisions and helping you navigate the complex journey from vision to legacy.

Chapter 2: Taking the Leap: Distinguishing Fear from Danger

Jim Koch stood at a pivotal crossroads in 1984. A Harvard triple-graduate (BA, JD, MBA), he was earning $250,000 annually (equivalent to over $600,000 today) at Boston Consulting Group, with even greater earnings on the horizon. By conventional standards, he had achieved remarkable success. Yet something was missing. "I asked myself, 'Do I want to do this the rest of my life?'" Jim recalled. "And the answer came back: 'No.' And the corollary to that was, 'Well, if I don't want to do it for the rest of my life, I probably don't want to do it tomorrow.'" When Jim decided to leave his lucrative career to start a brewery, his father—a fifth-generation brewmaster—was blunt: "Jim, you have done some really stupid things in your life. This is the stupidest." The brewing industry had collapsed from 1,000 American breweries in 1948 to just 50 by 1984. Jim was married with two small children. Leaving BCG seemed not just scary but downright reckless. But Jim had a unique perspective on risk, shaped by his years as an Outward Bound instructor in his twenties. "It is the difference in life between things that are scary and things that are dangerous," he explained. "There are plenty of things that are scary but aren't dangerous. And there are things that are dangerous but not scary. And those are the things that get you." He offered a climbing analogy: "One of the things we taught people to do was rappel off a cliff. It is a very scary thing to do, but you are also held by a belay rope, and that rope would hold a car. So walking off the cliff backwards is scary, but it's not dangerous. Walking across a thirty-five-degree-angle snowfield on a beautiful late May afternoon with bright blue sky, on the other hand, is not scary at all, but it is very dangerous." In Jim's assessment, staying at BCG was the true danger—the risk of reaching retirement age only to realize he'd wasted his life doing something that didn't fulfill him. Leaving to start Samuel Adams beer was merely scary. This insight proved transformative. Today, Boston Beer Company is a publicly traded corporation worth billions, and Jim Koch is recognized as a pioneer of the craft beer movement that revitalized American brewing. This perspective is shared by many successful entrepreneurs. When Michael Dell left the University of Texas after his freshman year to start Dell Computer Corporation, his parents—who expected him to become a doctor like his father—were devastated. But Michael recognized that his passion for computers represented his true path, even if taking it meant facing uncertainty and disappointing his family. The entrepreneurial journey requires distinguishing between fear and danger. Fear is the emotional response to uncertainty—the racing heart before rappelling down a cliff. Danger is the actual risk of irreversible harm. When you understand this distinction, you can make clearer decisions about which risks are worth taking and which truly threaten your well-being. The most successful entrepreneurs aren't fearless—they're simply better at recognizing when something is merely scary rather than truly dangerous. As you contemplate your own leap into entrepreneurship, ask yourself: What am I actually afraid of? Is it the fear of failure, judgment, or uncertainty? Or is there genuine danger—like irreparable financial harm or damage to important relationships? By separating fear from danger, you can move forward with greater clarity and confidence, taking calculated risks that align with your vision while avoiding truly perilous situations.

Chapter 3: Funding Wisely: From Personal Resources to Professional Capital

When Jen Rubio's suitcase broke at Zurich airport, spilling her clothes across the terminal floor, she never imagined this embarrassing moment would lead to a multimillion-dollar business. But when she later asked friends for recommendations on quality luggage, no one had a good answer. This gap in the market sparked an idea that would become Away, a company that would sell over a million suitcases in just three years. The journey from concept to success, however, required navigating the complex world of funding. Jen and her co-founder Steph Korey began with what entrepreneurs call "bootstrapping"—using their own resources and creativity instead of outside funding. "The first few weeks were just like our intense version of market research," Jen recalled. They visited every luggage store in New York, compared prices and experiences, and researched factories. To fund their initial prototypes, they raised about $150,000 from friends and family—"It was literally five- and ten-thousand-dollar checks," Jen explained. This approach allowed them to maintain control while developing their first product. This pattern of starting with personal resources repeats across successful startups. When Adam Lowry and Eric Ryan launched Method cleaning products, they each invested $45,000 of their life savings. They did everything themselves: perfecting formulas, designing bottles, even printing Eric's personal cell phone number on bottles as customer service. "We were getting five grand here, ten grand there, from every person that would give us money," Adam said of their friends-and-family funding. Similarly, Gordon and Carole Segal used $10,000 from wedding gifts plus a $7,000 loan from Gordon's father to launch Crate & Barrel, while Ron Shaich borrowed $75,000 from his father to start what would eventually become Panera Bread. The transition from bootstrapping to professional capital represents a critical juncture. When Jen and Steph were ready to scale Away, they hired a PR firm rather than spending on advertising. Their strategy paid off when Vogue featured them, helping them sell out their first 2,000 suitcases before they were even manufactured. This success positioned them perfectly for professional investment. But raising professional money comes with its own challenges. Jenn Hyman of Rent the Runway faced condescending investors when pitching her designer dress rental business. "We had several different very condescending conversations," she recalled, "one in which a partner at a very prestigious firm took my hand into his and said, 'This is so adorable. You're going to get to wear such pretty dresses. This must be so fun for you.'" Despite these attitudes, she persevered, eventually securing funding after demonstrating clear market demand. The funding journey typically follows a pattern: first personal resources, then friends and family, followed by angel investors or crowdfunding, and finally venture capital or private equity. Each stage requires different approaches and comes with different costs to your ownership and control. The key is understanding which funding source makes sense for your current stage and long-term vision. As you consider your own funding strategy, remember Eric Ryan's insight about friends-and-family money: "I found it so motivating because it's one thing to lose our own money or fail, but when you're taking money from people you really care about, you don't want to let them down. It's the best motivation to ensure that no matter how hard things get, you're going to find a path forward." This emotional commitment often provides the resilience needed to overcome the inevitable challenges of building a business.

Chapter 4: Creating Buzz: Breaking Through the Noise

Every year, approximately 850,000 new businesses launch in America. In the mobile app world alone, over 1,000 new apps appear daily. With such overwhelming competition, how do you get people to notice your creation? This challenge—getting attention—can make or break a new venture, regardless of how brilliant the underlying idea might be. For Randy Hetrick, creator of the TRX Suspension Training system, the breakthrough came at the IDEA World Convention in San Diego. After developing his fitness straps during his time as a Navy SEAL and refining them while at Stanford business school, Randy set up a small booth at this major fitness industry event. For three days, he demonstrated his invention to every trainer and gym owner who passed by. "It was a big moment," Randy explained, "because these trainers are a skeptical lot, and if they think this is really a great thing, then all right, now I'm cooking with some gas." The response was immediate and overwhelming. By the end of the first day, Randy had sold out his entire stock of TRX straps. He called his office to ship everything they had left, but demand continued to outpace supply. The convention created initial buzz, but what truly launched TRX into the mainstream was an unexpected champion: NFL quarterback Drew Brees. After discovering the TRX during rehabilitation for a shoulder injury, Brees reached out to Randy. "He said, 'Hey, Randy, give me a half dozen of these, and I'll take them with me. I'll see if I can get the Saints to start training on them.'" When Sports Illustrated featured Brees's comeback, he ensured the photo showed him using the TRX. "And all of a sudden, all the strength and conditioning coaches and the athletes who read Sports Illustrated got their eyes on this crazy strap." This combination of demonstration and media coverage exemplifies effective buzz-building. Randy showed people what his product could do, while Sports Illustrated told readers why it mattered. This show-and-tell approach works across industries. When Kevin Systrom and Mike Krieger launched Instagram, they gave pre-launch access to two strategic groups: journalists who could explain the app, and top designers who could demonstrate its capabilities through beautiful photos. The result? Twenty-five thousand signups in the first twenty-four hours. Jen Rubio applied similar principles when launching Away luggage. Rather than spending on advertising, she hired a PR firm to get others talking about her brand. "We knew one of the big things that would set us apart was if we got these other outlets that people trusted, whether it was press or influencers, to tell our story for us," she explained. When traditional holiday gift guides were already filled, Jen and Steph created a limited-edition travel book featuring tastemakers, priced at $225—the same as their suitcase—and redeemable for one Away carry-on. The strategy worked brilliantly, leading to a feature in Vogue and selling out their first production run. The lesson is clear: effective buzz-building isn't just about making noise; it's about strategically demonstrating your product's value while finding credible voices to amplify your message. As Randy Hetrick noted, "For somebody who's starting a venture, and particularly if you've got a product for which there isn't precedent, the big challenge is obscurity—trying to get out of obscurity and get up on the radar." When you're planning your own buzz-building strategy, focus on showing rather than telling, and seek out trusted voices who can validate your offering. Remember that the goal isn't just awareness but conversion—turning that initial buzz into enthusiastic customer recommendations that sustain your business long after the initial excitement fades.

Chapter 5: Navigating Crises: Finding Clarity in Chaos

There comes a moment in nearly every entrepreneurial journey when quitting seems like the only rational option. For Gary Hirshberg, co-founder of Stonyfield Farm yogurt, this moment arrived repeatedly throughout the 1980s as he and his partner Samuel Kaymen struggled to keep their business afloat despite growing demand for their product. Five months after launching, Stonyfield had done $50,000 in sales but was $75,000 in debt. "The product was selling through," Gary explained, "but any money that came in we used to pay for grain to feed the cows or to buy lubrication, equipment, fuel, wood, whatever." When they ran out of cash, Gary did "what any self-respecting entrepreneur does: I called my mother, and I borrowed $30,000." This pattern continued for years. By 1987, despite growing to $1.7 million in sales, disaster struck when their manufacturing partner went into receivership, locking up their production equipment, cups, and ingredients. Gary and Sam had to restart production at their original farm, working around the clock to meet demand that had grown far beyond their capacity. "In order to keep up, we have to produce twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week," Gary recalled. "Every other night, Samuel or I had to make yogurt, and this continued for twenty months." By Christmas 1989, they were $2.7 million in debt with nearly 300 nervous investors. Gary's wife was pregnant with their first child and at her wits' end with the constant financial rollercoaster. Then came the final blow: a Vermont dairy they'd spent three months negotiating with to take over production tried to steal their business at the last minute. "I knew it was over," Gary said. "This was the darkest of the dark hours. We're burning $25,000 a week. We're taking money we cannot ever pay back. We have no solution." Yet Gary and Sam didn't quit. Driving home through a blizzard that night, they sketched out plans for their own manufacturing facility. "Just for the fun of it, what would be the cheapest yogurt plant we could build somewhere that would actually cover our capacity?" Gary asked. This decision—to build their own plant rather than depend on others—was the turning point. By 1992, Stonyfield was profitable for the first time, and by the end of the decade, they hit $100 million in revenue. What Gary experienced is what startup experts call the "trough of sorrow"—a period when progress stalls and the business seems stuck in a profitless limbo. The Airbnb founders faced a similar crisis after their initial success at the 2008 Democratic National Convention. When the convention ended, "all of those numbers came crashing back down," co-founder Joe Gebbia recalled. Investors rejected them, and they maxed out their credit cards to keep the servers running. Their solution came from stepping back to gain perspective. Harvard leadership professor Ronald Heifetz calls this "getting on the balcony"—removing yourself from the chaos of the dance floor to see patterns from above. For Airbnb, this meant recognizing that their New York listings had poor photos and an awkward payment system. By flying to New York to take better photos and adding online payments, they doubled their weekly revenue almost immediately. The lesson from these crucible moments is that survival often depends on your ability to gain perspective when you're deepest in the struggle. As poet Robert Frost wrote, "The best way out is always through." Gary Hirshberg didn't abandon yogurt; he reimagined how to produce it. Airbnb didn't give up on home-sharing; they fixed specific problems that were holding them back. When you face your own crucible moment—and you will—remember that this is when the most important decisions are made. Step back, gain perspective, and look for the specific problems you can solve rather than abandoning your vision entirely. As Jeni Britton Bauer of Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams said after surviving a listeria crisis: "With crisis—when there is a before and after—you go forward in a whole different way than you were before."

Chapter 6: The Power of Partnership: Finding Your Perfect Complement

When we think about iconic companies, we often picture solitary visionaries—Zuckerberg, Jobs, Bezos. Yet the reality behind most successful ventures reveals a different story: the triumph of partnerships. This pattern emerges so consistently that it cannot be coincidence. As venture capitalist Paul Graham noted, "single founder" is the number one mistake that kills startups. Consider the story of Adam Lowry and Eric Ryan, childhood friends from Michigan who reunited by chance on a flight to their hometown for Thanksgiving. Despite their different educational paths—Adam studied chemical engineering at Stanford, Eric pursued business in Rhode Island—they found themselves living on the same block in San Francisco in the late 1990s. Their complementary skills would prove perfect for disrupting the cleaning products industry. Eric had been working on advertising campaigns for Colgate Palmolive, spending time in grocery store cleaning aisles. "It was such a big category but a sea of sameness," Eric said. "Everything looked and smelled the same. The brands were pretty dated." Meanwhile, Adam was working on environmental issues at the Carnegie Institution for Science. During a ski trip, Eric mentioned his observation about cleaning products, and Adam responded with a crucial insight: "Well, you know, not only are these products really ugly, but did you know they're super toxic as well?" This conversation sparked what would become Method, a company that revolutionized cleaning products by combining beautiful design with environmental responsibility. "Our joke was 'style and substance': Adam working on basically everything in the bottle, and me doing everything around the bottle," Eric explained. Their partnership worked because they complemented each other perfectly—Eric the extroverted businessman focused on aesthetics, Adam the introverted engineer driven by sustainability. This complementary dynamic appears repeatedly in successful partnerships. When Jim Koch founded Boston Beer Company (maker of Samuel Adams), he recruited Rhonda Kallman, his 23-year-old assistant at Boston Consulting Group. "I looked around BCG, full of the best and the brightest from the top business schools," Jim recalled, "and I realized there was this person here who was energetic, talented, resourceful, a great people person—she had all of the skills I don't really have." The power of partnership extends beyond complementary skills. As Jim Koch's father advised him, starting a business is "full of ups and downs" that are hard to stomach alone. Paul Graham echoed this sentiment: "Starting a startup is too hard for one person. Even if you could do all the work yourself, you need colleagues to brainstorm with, to talk you out of stupid decisions, and to cheer you up when things go wrong... The low points in a startup are so low that few could bear them alone." What's particularly fascinating about successful partnerships is how many seem fated by prior connections. Gates and Allen went to high school together. The Apple Steves (Jobs and Wozniak) grew up in the same neighborhood. Jen Rubio and Steph Korey worked together at Warby Parker. These pre-existing relationships provided a foundation of trust that proved crucial during the inevitable storms of entrepreneurship. When seeking your own co-founder, look for someone whose skills complement yours, who shares your vision but sees things differently, whose strengths compensate for your weaknesses, and—perhaps most importantly—whom you trust implicitly. The right partnership doesn't just improve your chances of success; it transforms the entrepreneurial journey from a lonely struggle into a shared adventure. As Bill Gates expressed about his partnership with Paul Allen: "Having somebody who you totally trust, who's totally committed, who shares your vision and yet has a little bit different set of skills, and also acts as a check on you—and just the benefit of sparking off of somebody who's got that kind of brilliance—it's not only made it fun, but it's really led to a lot of success." In the right partnership, one plus one equals far more than two.

Chapter 7: Protecting Your Creation: Beyond Patents and Trademarks

James Dyson spent nearly a decade developing the Ballbarrow—a revolutionary wheelbarrow with a ball instead of a wheel for improved stability and maneuverability. Yet despite capturing 50% of the UK market, he ended up with nothing to show for his innovation. Why? He had assigned the patent to his company, Kirk-Dyson, and when additional investors came aboard, his ownership stake was diluted to 30%. When the board eventually fired him, he lost control of his own invention. "It was like giving birth, and then losing the child," Dyson later reflected. This painful lesson taught him the critical importance of intellectual property protection. Years later, when Amway and then Hoover copied his cyclonic vacuum cleaner design, Dyson was prepared. This time, he owned the business and controlled the patents. He sued both companies and won, with Hoover eventually paying £6 million in what was then the largest patent settlement in UK history. "Sometimes one needs to go through these rites of passage to understand the importance of ownership of intellectual property, the importance of having a majority share in your own company, or even all the shares," Dyson observed. His experience illustrates a fundamental truth: building something remarkable is only half the battle; protecting it is equally crucial. Randy Hetrick of TRX Suspension Training faced a similar challenge when Chinese counterfeits flooded online marketplaces. "They were devouring my business," he recalled. "If you looked for TRX on Amazon, for instance, you would be served up our product alongside a bunch of others that were a quarter or a fifth the price." The situation became so dire that TRX experienced negative growth. Randy's decision to sue one of the largest infringers cost $2.5 million and took three years, but resulted in a $6.8 million judgment that validated his patents and trademarks. Almost immediately, his business "leapt up by 40 percent." However, knowing when not to sue can be just as important as knowing when to take legal action. Curt Jones, founder of Dippin' Dots ice cream, became entangled in a lengthy patent battle with a competitor called Mini Melts. Despite initially securing an injunction against the competitor in 1996, Curt continued fighting in court for years. The protracted legal battle eventually cost him $10 million in legal fees and contributed to financial difficulties that forced the company into bankruptcy in 2011. What Curt failed to recognize was that Dippin' Dots' true value lay not in its patent but in its brand. "When kids go to baseball games or amusement parks, they don't want 'dot ice cream,' they want Dippin' Dots," he realized too late. The brand equity he had built was more valuable and defensible than the manufacturing process itself. This distinction between legal protection and brand value represents a crucial insight for entrepreneurs. While patents and trademarks provide important safeguards, a strong brand often offers more durable protection in the marketplace. As Curt's experience shows, even winning a legal battle can be a strategic loss if it diverts resources from building and strengthening your brand. The most effective approach to protecting what you've built combines legal vigilance with brand development. Legal protections create barriers to direct copying, while a powerful brand creates customer loyalty that competitors cannot easily replicate. Together, they form a comprehensive defense strategy that preserves both your intellectual property and your market position. When facing potential threats to your business, step back to gain perspective on what truly needs protection. Is it the technical innovation, as in Dyson's case? Is it market share being eroded by counterfeits, as with TRX? Or is your most valuable asset the relationship customers have with your brand? Understanding what you're really protecting helps determine whether legal action is worth the cost and distraction from your core business.

Summary

The entrepreneurial journey is not about fearlessness, but about distinguishing between what is merely scary and what is truly dangerous. Success comes from finding your purpose at the intersection of passion and problem-solving, then navigating the inevitable challenges with clarity and resilience. The most successful founders aren't superhuman—they're ordinary people who recognized problems they were uniquely positioned to solve, found complementary partners to share the burden, and persevered through crises by gaining perspective when others lost hope. Start by identifying your "why"—the purpose that will sustain you through difficult times. Fund your venture wisely, beginning with personal resources before seeking outside capital. Create authentic buzz by demonstrating your product's value and finding credible voices to amplify your message. When crises arise, step back to gain perspective rather than abandoning your vision. Seek a partner whose strengths complement your weaknesses and whom you trust implicitly. Protect what matters most about your creation, whether that's intellectual property or brand equity. Remember that entrepreneurship isn't a solo journey but a human endeavor built on relationships—with co-founders, customers, and the community you serve. Your greatest asset isn't your idea, but your resilience and ability to adapt when reality inevitably differs from your plan.

About Author

Loading...

Guy Raz

Read more