How Hard Could It Be?
Oh, pretty hard. A dispatch from Startup Weekend, where would-be company founders learn what can-- and can't--be accomplished in 54 crazy hours.
Photograph by Cody Pickens
Go, Team: The Wan2Learn group, one of 10 teams competing at Startup Weekend Monterey Bay, hunkers down. Its model, in a nutshell? “Like Craigslist, only without sh--ty design.”
Photograph by Cody Pickens
Tick Tock: It’s the afternoon of Day Three. The official tally of coffee consumed: 36 gallons
Right now, all eyes are trained on Chuck Erickson, tonight's keynote speaker. Erickson wears a dark blue blazer and speaks with a sort of clerical cadence, like a televised pastor trying to inspire his flock. You can tell he's in the zone. It's nearing 8 p.m., the end of another workweek in late January, and I'm seated among a group of start-up aspirants in the University Center ballroom at California State University, Monterey Bay, about a mile and a half from the Pacific Ocean. Startup Weekend has officially begun.
Erickson grabs onto the lectern.
"Don't let people tell you you're too small to start something," says Erickson, an investor and business mentor in Silicon Valley. "When Zuckerberg first brought out Facebook, everyone said, 'Who cares?' And look what happened when two guys from Stanford decided they had a better idea for search."
There are about 80 people in the ballroom, and they all seem to be nodding.
There's Ed Carapezza, a former construction manager who dreams of building a skateboard company.
There's Magdy Francis Ibrahim, a local restaurateur who wants to create better business-management software.
There's Tisa Cawthon, a paratriathlete and interior designer who wants to relaunch Cockroach Crunch, the failed iPhone game she developed in 2009.
There's Basile Michardiere, a 21-year-old Frenchman building a social network for families.
There's Cesar Lerma, who says he's working on a "worldwide equation that anyone could use to become a millionaire."
There's David Steinberg, a 28-year-old software engineer who wants to build an advertising network that would reward people for real-life activities.
There's Eddie Aguilar, a business student who wants to build Moocher, an app that will ping users when retailers are giving away free stuff.
There's Rick Brandley, a self-described "supersenior" in his fifth year of college, who wants to build Wan2Learn, a website on which instructors can offer their services. ("Like Craigslist," he says. "Only without sh-ty design.")
They've all paid $50 to $100 to come to Startup Weekend, the part-business-plan-competition-part-hackathon-part-cultural-phenomenon. In six years, there have been more than 1,000 Startup Weekends just like this in 450 cities in 104 countries. This very weekend, in fact, there are 10 other Startup Weekends happening all around the world. More than 100,000 people have done it. It is, in short, the world's most popular start-up event, inspired by a simple, exhilarating promise: "No Talk, All Action. Launch a Startup in 54 Hours."
Erickson pauses and inhales.
"I really want you to work hard, go out there and be successful, because all of those naysayers that said you can't do this--well, let me tell you, when you've made it, and you're successful, it's so nice to walk back up to them and go, 'Na-na-na-na-naaa.'"
Erickson releases the lectern, and everyone cheers--it's time to pitch.
