THE NO GOING back CRISIS
My legs shook with fear, my throat was desert-dry, my eyesight was blurring around the edges. As I stepped onto the stage in front of 2OO investors and fellow tech founders in a San Francisco startup warehouse, I was so far out of my comfort zone, I was almost out of my body. But I did my three-minute pitch for investment in my new business, and I’ve lived to tell the tale again and again.
Being a tech entrepreneur was not something I ever thought I’d be. I had decided that words would be my life’s work before I even went to school. Journalism took me through decade after decade: I was first female editor of my student paper, then a rock and pop critic, then a teen mag editor, then I launched myself into the world of fashion magazines, including this one soon after its launch.
Being a staffer was always part of my plan. I jumped wholeheartedly at each new contract, increasingly unconcerned that the creative side of journalism is compromised the more senior your role. Employed, salaried, looked after, then poached for more money; that was my trajectory. It rarely crossed my mind that I might have to forgo the cocoon of regular money, with a desk to call my own, staff to make my coffee, run my diary and take care of my tech troubles.
When that day came, it was traumatic. My final redundancy from my role as editor left me with a paltry pay-off, zero confidence and the belief that radical change was needed. If the internet was eating the lunch of my beloved journalism could I, by then a 57-year-old without a single hoodie in her wardrobe, climb on board?
Not without a leg-up, that’s for sure. I’d spent years being grudging toward tech; took forever to get a smartphone, mostly shopped in physical stores, fretted about social media and its effects. But that was about to change. In the middle of the night, as we discussed where I might find gainful employment, my husband had a lightbulb moment: ‘Remember when you were looking for a therapist and couldn’t decide which one was right for you? What about a match.com for therapy?’
He was right, it was a good idea and it still is. But getting from washed-up editor to zinging startup founder is a big move. Many a time I sat, head in hands, angsting over what I’d done. And don’t think you can brush it off as impostor syndrome – I was an impostor! What did I really know about a) therapy or b) technology?
The answer is, of course, you learn, you grow, you improve. You may feel a fool sometimes, but that’s understandable. I found a small cohort of similar-aged women through a London Google initiative, Founders Over 5O, which led to a two-week accelerator programme in Palo Alto. Late-fifties mother of three, the only UK rep on an international accelerator course with 19 Mark Zuckerberg lookalikes hyping their world-changing unicorn-to-be, it was a muscle-screaming stretch. As the organiser of the event said to me: ‘Most startups have the hacker, the hustler or the hipster. You’re not really any of those, Louise.’
Much of the truly tech talk shot over my head, though I go by the maxim, ‘There are no stupid questions.’ There was much knowledge to be gleaned from the sort of people who first supported Facebook or Twitter or LinkedIn and shared such gems as, ‘Those charts that show exponential growth? If you narrow it down to the early beginnings, it looks quite flat. It takes a long time to get the flywheel going.’ Or rockstar style consultant Mike Maples (‘I wanted to be for the tech industry like Berry Gordy was to Motown records’) who told us that: ‘Every startup starts off dead and has to prove it can become alive.’
My startup, welldoing.org, has already helped more than 2O,OOO people find the right therapist for them. Getting this far has taken me through a complete work-life change, just when many of my friends are starting to take their pensions. The downside is a startup demands 24/7 oversight and genuine devotion. You have to innovate, push and publicise all the time. But I love being part of the new world of health tech and I take enormous pleasure in knowing that people are being helped. My eyes have filled with tears when people have told me how the therapist they found – because of that conversation with my husband – has changed their life. Now more than ever it’s good to remember that sometimes, out of adversity, you can start doing things that you will eventually realise are what you always wanted, and never want to stop.
Louise Chunn is the founder of therapist-matching platform welldoing.org
”GETTING FROM WASHED-UP EDITOR TO STARTUP FOUNDER IS A BIG MOVE. MANY A TIME I SAT, head in hands, ANGSTING OVER WHAT I’D DONE ”