I WROTE THIS BOOK TO offer a clear and logical guide, a road map that anyone could use to move successfully through the entrepreneurial process. As I was wrapping up this edition, I found new meaning in its message. My life experiences had opened up a whole new world to me, and my own words were challenging me to, once again, travel a new pathway. Here’s the story.
When TRC’s sale was completed, I wanted to celebrate with my entire family, because all of them had contributed to the success of my first entrepreneurial journey. We decided to take an all-family vacation—my wife and kids, my parents, my wife’s parents, my brother, the whole lot of us. I was really looking forward to showing all of them my appreciation. Then, as so often happens, change came calling; just months after closing the sale of TRC, my mother was diagnosed with a Stage IV melanoma. A few months later, my dad was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. My mom survived; my dad didn’t.
As a result of these events, in the months following my departure from CDW, I was actively engaged in helping my parents deal with ongoing and ever-changing medical treatment plans, hospice, and the other healthcare necessities. In addition, I was also working on this book, since I was committed to publishing the insights I’d gained about entrepreneurism through my research and personal experiences. By the summer of 2009, I was wrapping up my first edition of the manuscript and making plans for speaking engagements, book signings, and seminars to support the book’s sales. Once more, change uprooted my plans. This time, the news couldn’t have been more unexpected or earthshaking: my 16-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn, was diagnosed with Ewing sarcoma.
The months ahead were given over to Kaitlyn’s extremely difficult treatment regimen and eventual surgery to remove her tumor. Just as Kaitlyn was recovering, we were hit with yet another unexpected blow: my brother, my only sibling, had a brain tumor. My daughter’s prognosis looks good; we’re all incredibly thankful for her survival. My brother’s condition, on the other hand, has no cure.
If you’re thinking that this series of events seems almost surrealistic, I can only say that I agree with you. As I ricocheted from one family medical trauma to the next, this book was something of an anchor for me. I forced myself to focus on its final revisions and preparation for publication during some part of my days so that I wouldn’t become overwhelmed with the ongoing struggles all of us in my family faced in managing so many medical plans and issues. And then, one day, as I was making some final notes and revisions to the text, I found myself staring at the E-Formula:
I.D.E.A. + Situation + Opportunity = Activation
I began thinking about those times when ideas and opportunities align, but situations are simply too daunting to allow the entrepreneur to move forward, as had been the case for me over the past four years. The entrepreneurial limbo I’d entered as a result of my family’s health-related issues had caused me to question my abilities. Had I peaked? What could I contribute? Would I ever create again? It was almost like I’d never accomplished anything. I found myself thinking the way I had back when I was a teenager. I’d read about some fast-rising entrepreneur, and wonder: How did that guy start that company? What great idea could I pursue? Could I be an entrepreneur—again?
And then it hit me! Five years earlier, I had begun working on an idea for a cloud-based personal healthcare record (PHR) platform, which I touched on in chapter 2. Available technologies and the marketplace weren’t ready at that time, however, and so I hadn’t pursued my idea with much energy. Before I could adequately develop the idea, some big-name (and big-money) competitors announced their own beta-versions of applications similar to the system I’d been designing. I assumed that my heel-dragging had ended that entrepreneurial journey before it had even begun. But, the past few years hadn’t been kind to those first-to-market competitors, and their products weren’t widely adopted. As it turns out, I was right—neither the technology nor its essential infrastructure had been adequate at the time these PHR products were released, making them ineffective and unadoptable.
Now, however, a combination of government funding and mandates for more efficient healthcare management systems was resulting in costly infrastructure investments across the United States. That infrastructure would make the next generation of PHRs portable, and very much in demand. The concept I once tried vainly to explain to puzzled and largely disinterested people was now a frequent topic in national publications and broadcast news.
At that moment, I realized, my E-Formula was absolutely solid. The opportunity for my idea was now. My personal and professional situation and environmental factors were all positive. Financially, I was in a very comfortable position to fund a new startup. I had a clear vision for the business model I would use, and I even had outlined an incredibly successful exit plan. Everything in my E-Formula was telling me to go for it. But then I bumped into the walls of my Risk Box.
I was comfortable. Why not just find a corporate job to fill my days? I could secure a guaranteed salary, probably a pretty decent one, and company-sponsored healthcare. Or maybe I should do nothing at all—why not? Hadn’t I earned a rest? As I sat there, considering the prospect of starting a new company, I could feel the clamor of negativity building around me: the effort, the cost, the risk—how could any outcome be worth that? And then, a single thought stopped the noise: this is what I am intended to do; I’m an entrepreneur, and my purpose is to create an idea, pursue my passion, and build an extraordinary company. I had seen too many examples of the sweetness and unpredictability of life to let my dreams wither and come to nothing. Now, I have a new opportunity to do something great with my life; this is no time for uncertainty and fear. I could be scared, but I wouldn’t be petrified.
I had to consider another, very troubling, question: was I a hypocrite? I had just written a book exalting the entrepreneurial spirit, complete with a formula—which I had designed—for determining one’s readiness for the entrepreneurial experience. My book was a gospel of entrepreneurism, extolling readers to understand how precious time and life is and how we shouldn’t waste it on less meaningful endeavors. I had laid out a program for breaking free of the Risk Box and following a well-planned vision toward an extraordinary life, but I had been focusing more intently on publishing my advice than on following it. And, so, I turned to my own book for answers. And they were all there.
Today, I’m beginning a completely new journey, as I prepare to bring my idea for the PHR company to life. I’ve gone back to my own inner Grove, venturing down pathways that I’ve never traveled before, excited about the possibilities ahead of me. In order to find my way to the destination I’m seeking, I’ll have to innovate, change, utilize all of my abilities, and fuel my efforts with passion and desire when I have no energy left to give. I’m not worried, though. In fact, I’m confident that I’ll succeed. But above all else, I’m thankful. I once again have an incredible opportunity, and I’m on my way to discovering it. I have the map in front of me right now—and so do you.