#the lesson here is do not be ciphers and adopt a kid who takes all your trauma for you

[eorzeashan]

Late to WIP party -- tell me about Opia!

And I'm even later to answering this -- forgive me! Holidays are a hectic time.

Haha oh man. Opia is a working title, but it refers to the indescribable feeling you have when you make direct eye contact with another person. I should rename it to something is in my eye, because the premise makes me cry.

It covers the backstory of my Cipher Eight, how he came to inherit the title and what triggered such a drastic change from the person he is as Cipher Nine in a different timeline. Not all of it. Just these final, soul-crushing moments where he realizes that Intelligence wants to scrap his beloved mentor, Nosta, and that he is the only one who can save her from being killed, brainwashed, or sent to Shadow Town. He clings to the memory that she is not just a weapon- that she wished to return home to Csilla, to her family, and thereon thinks my life for hers, because she is capable of love and has a life, while I do not.

This single act of devotion is his only motivation for everything after. He has to stay alive for her, to take her place, or his sacrifice will mean nothing.

But he is barely an adult. He is just a child, and he is scared and alone-- burdened with the knowledge that he must fight off every single person coming to take her away from him and end whoever gave the order to retire Cipher Eight permanently.

There's so many stories about dying to save the ones you love, but this is about forcing yourself to live and endure at the behest of someone else, so that the shadows of your life will never touch them again. It's looking at someone and understanding their happiness comes from something you lack. I just- have so many feelings about this Chiss agent who raised this boy to be disposable and ended up being so loved by him that he gave her the ticket to the happiness she only dreamt of. Spies do not earn happy endings. They are not supposed to dream of families and a life after. He knew this, and was forever changed because of it.

Excerpt:

There's nothing more frightening than staring your own death in the face.

It would be easier if it was about self-sacrifice, to go out in one final blaze of glory, all his enemies gone in one fell sweep-- and him, at the center, satisfied that his death worked as intended.

But the cards had never been stacked in his favor. This was not that story.

Get up!

Orradiz wheezed in labored, choppy breaths, barely able to shove down his urge to scream and cry beneath a slick veneer of oily blood that inked down the entire quadrant of his face. The lights of Kaas City spun in dizzying circles above him, blurred by tears that would not fall. He wanted to let go. To sink into the sea of oblivion that exhaustion granted after hours of hunting and being hunted like less than an animal. He felt the eye not bisected by his new patchwork of wounds carved by an endless night of vibroknives droop closed. Rest...

They're still out there! If you go, she goes!

Get up!

He jolted upright in the shadows of the dank alleyway, panic flooding his veins. No. He could not rest now. She still needed him- he would never rest again if he truly meant to do this. For her. For her, damn you.

He thought of Nosta, fighting her own battle in the solitude of the safehouse, her formerly brilliant blue skin pale and clammy with poison as her features twisted in agony. She had been delirious when he'd found her, scraping by the skin of her teeth to triumph over yet another assassin sent to silence her. He'd always known her as a proud woman. Unbreakable. The best of all her kind.

Yet the image of her curled in on herself, small, vulnerable, was one he never wished to see again. He had brought her to an empty warehouse. Laid her down on a cot, and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Saganu..." She whimpered, and Orradiz felt his heart coming undone.

"You'll be with him soon." He'd spoken aloud, his voice unsure in the echo that resounded off the duracrete ventricles of their sanctuary. He rose to leave.

Nosta's hand latched onto his arm, stopping him.

"Don't," She wheezed through trembling teeth, her crimson eyes hazed over in pain. Orradiz's eyes widened imperceptibly.

"Nosta, you have to rest-" He unhooked her lithe fingers from him, a knot in his brow.

"Don't go."

He froze. Nosta was staring at him, the spark of her old resolve returning to her as she held their gazes, refusing to break eye contact. She mustered the last of her strength to cling to him. He felt the weakness of her muscles, how much it hurt to strain with the remnants of toxin in her veins.

She knew.

Thank you for the ask!

[aceandaroacts]

On Being a Happy Family of One

[This month, I'm hosting the Carnival of Aces, a blogging festival where participants respond to a topic. The topic I've chosen for this month is "Conscious and Unconscious Differences". You can see the other submissions and join in here!]

Considering the experiences you’ve had that are tied to your asexuality, how have they made you stronger?

Hi! I'm aceandaroacts. If you met me in real life, I'd introduce myself as a coder of custom software and grandma-at-heart. But this is the internet!

The most important thing to know about me is not the things I've built, places I've gone, or the experiences I've overcome. It's my attitude: "I can do this!"

When I first started thinking about topics to write about for this month's Carnival of Aces, I was torn between several ideas. I love fashion. I understand none of it, and never know what I'm doing, but I have fun with it and am trying to figure out how to be more... visible? as one of the few agender people at my company. I also have a cool history with being forced to dress like a Gothic nun half my life and building cosplays and cool Halloween costumes in the present half. But that felt a little too intersectional, and might not be as useful from an academic lens.

I thought about cryptography, clandestine communication, and the obsession with language and selective secrecy I had as a kid, and how that connects to a lot of ace symbols - the black ring on the middle finger, ace cards, cake, dragons... and how I wound up spending two months and hundreds of hours consuming all the ace content I could find, because words and language and symbols are so important!

And I thought about my life; how it compares to the default narrative, and how I'm going about building my own.

This month's theme is conscious and unconscious differences. Unconscious, as in automatic, or as in: before I knew I was asexual. Conscious, as in: intentional. It's broad enough to wrap around all the above, but specific enough in the "how does this make you stronger" bit that I think we'll still see some cool patterns and strengths arise that help to establish our own narrative tropes.

I bought "unsexy" conservative outfits before I know I was asexual. I avoided people that showed too much interest in me automatically. I unconsciously avoided conversations about dating, sex, attraction, and masturbation with friends by walking away or changing the topic. My favorite colors have always been purple, silver, black, and white. Strategy games were my favorite. I'd obsess over characters that were mysterious, building all kinds of different backstories and futures for them in my head. I never had sleepovers, and didn't understand why people would want them. I was the "lone wolf" in my friend groups - a drifter that got along pretty well with all kinds of people, but ultimately did whatever they wanted with or without company. Around 60% of my friends were adults; I had great relationships with the teachers and staff members at my school, and I knew all the local librarians by name. The gender split of my friend group was always pretty close to 50-50, and populated with extremely different perspectives - punk anarchists, exchange students, female football players, native american sci-fi enthusiasts, anorexic wrestlers, etc. I loved words, loved codes and ciphers, loved fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and music with lyrics. I avoided drama like the plague. I had a very unstable home life, and moved locations almost every year. Home only extended as far as to the skin on my body. I never dreamed about weddings or fancy houses or kids (or even pets!). P.E. (Physical Education) was the worst - I felt uncomfortable in the dressing rooms, so I would arrive early before people started undressing and would change in the restrooms so I would have privacy and avoid seeing naked people as much as possible. I never obsessed over my body - I could go for months at a time without looking in a mirror. My reputation was based on my academics and random hobbies, not my looks or relationships. People sought me out as a mentor and constantly told me I was "mature" and "an old soul". When fights broke out, people looked to me as a fair and impartial judge of the situation, and respected whatever verdict I reached. It felt a lot like being a Buddha!

Realizing I was asexual didn't change much of that, but it did cause me to face choices head-on: would I try to find a partner, or not? Would I try to live with other roommates, or not? Would I try to be attractive, or not? Would I go to bars to make friends, or not? Would I worry about having a weak social network, or not? Would I want to live in a retirement community, or not? Would I want kids around, or not? What would my milestones in life be? How would I fulfill my human need to be social? Who would I trust to take care of me in an emergency?

I'm estranged from my birth family. I'm asexual, aromantic, agender, touch-averse, romance-repulsed, sex-repulsed, and introverted as can be. I tried dating and was so miserable that I wound up finding asexuality because of it in the first place. I don't trust myself to be a parent since my own parents screwed up so badly that it left me with three mental illnesses and a decade's worth of unwinding bad life lessons. So I'm in a fun position!

The "normal" life journey story goes like this: You grow up with two loving biological parents, get your education, graduate, get further training or education via school or a first job, find your partner in life, get into a steady career, get married and live together, have kids, raise those kids, watch them get their education and jobs and move away, then retire and die at an old age. My life only has the education and job bits (retirement? in this economy? die old? on this polluted planet?). I'm not going to look for a lifelong partner. I'm not having kids or adopting. There's a whole lot of white space where everyone else has milestones, and I've consciously accepted that as okay. I'm a family of one, and it's great!

The first milestones I set for myself were to find good roommates, help out fellow child abuse survivors, and own a home. I've achieved them! My next milestone is to do something big and artsy that makes a decent amount of people happy. I have no idea what it will be, yet - right now I've been doing lots of little things: teaching workshops, building costumes, painting, home renovation projects. I'm gonna try being in a music band this year. The milestone after that will be to have a big impact via a community-service type initiative. There's a woman in my city that created an LGBTQ homeless shelter that's an actual home-like environment (seasonal housing with free counseling, job training, stocked pantry, etc. aimed at guiding people to independence and self-sufficiency) which I thought was really cool, and I'd like to do something that's on a similar scale. After that, who knows? Maybe publish a book instead of writing 12 of them and letting them collect dust? Maybe run a small rainbow-themed cafe that makes fancy desserts? So many possibilities!

It's exactly these differences that bleed into my strengths. I'm super independent/self-motivated/self-directed, because I've had to be to survive. I excel at navigating uncertainty, ambiguity, assessing risks, and forecasting outcomes and trends, because my life has a lot of uncertainty and risk compared to the average population. I'm quick to pick up on communication styles and tailor my messages accordingly, because I've had to be mindful about it when navigating my parents and people that developed crushes on me and/or became stalkers. My superpower at work is my ability to dodge all of the politics at play and get everyone on board with factually beneficial solutions (so I still come across as an objective party vs someone playing favorites or only looking out for themselves). People have faith that I'm an expert in all things IT, even when I mess up, because I ask good questions and make fewer assumptions. (I assumed I was cis for 22 years and surprise! I was wrong. Anyone can be wrong. Especially if they are never forced to think about the thing!) I'm great at organizing live events - I plan multiple award shows and get-togethers. I also run an ace & aro meetup in my city! (The experience of being isolated will make an organizer out of you real quick!) People seek me out as a mentor and coach at work because I'm already satisfied with my life and who I am, and I genuinely want to help others without expecting anything in return. I intentionally stay in touch with and work to expand my friend group, which means I have a great professional network of actual friends that I find interesting and fun to be around, and not just LinkedIn faces. If I weren't ace, I wouldn't be doing that. And if I still didn't know I was ace, I wouldn't be doing it half as much as I do now - when you really focus on it, it's so worth it!

So, yeah. Asexuality is a part of me, and it's great. How does your identit(y/ies) make you great?

[radlybatesvaluations-blog]

Adam Radly Bob Bates: $250m valuation by pivot from online games to meditation company

Adam Radly Bob Bates https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/321960 One summer morning in 2014, Michael Acton Smith sat on a balcony overlooking a lush green valley in the Austrian alps. He had booked a vacation by himself to get away from the stress of his crumbling online gaming company. The view, composed of abundant grass and far-off mountains, seemed almost cookie-cutter -- evoking a postcard, a computer desktop, a backdrop to rousing words on a motivational poster. But Acton Smith wasn’t taking in the scenery. His eyes were closed, and his mind was clear. That stretch -- 10 minutes of peace, he recalls -- was the co-founder of Calm’s most clarifying meditation experience. A friend (and Calm’s co-founder), Alex Tew, had entreated him to try the practice, but Acton Smith had rolled his eyes for years. It's too woo-woo, he thought. Religious. And what's up with the incense and outfits? Finally, after a mountain of stress at his company and continued encouragement from Tew, Acton Smith gave meditation a real shot. Two years later, Acton Smith would join Tew in devoting himself to Calm full-time. It paid off. In 2015, he said, the meditation app brought in $2 million. By 2017, revenue had multiplied tenfold -- and the company won out over millions of others for Apple’s App of the Year. Seated on that balcony in 2014, conscious of his breath, Acton Smith opened his eyes for the first time. He calls it his lightbulb moment. Everything around him seemed brighter.

The Detour

Acton Smith’s childhood was filled with pet rocks, Tamagotchis and video games, so it was only natural that around age 30, he started a kids’ entertainment company. Mind Candy focused on online gaming, and soon after its launch in 2003, Acton Smith raised $10 million in venture funding. The idea that landed him the cash? Perplex City, a long-term alternative reality game in the form of a global treasure hunt. Users around the world would search for a stolen artifact from a fictional metropolis (Perplex City) using clues, puzzles and ciphers, the winner receiving a real-life reward of 100,000 pounds. The search began in April 2005. Clues were decoded, trading cards were purchased and communities were formed, with the game wrapping up after one man found the artifact and won the reward in February 2007. But the game, at least financially speaking, was better in theory, and Mind Candy put the second round on hold indefinitely. It was a “commercial disaster,” Acton Smith says. With less than $1 million left in the company’s account, he knew he had to do something quick to turn things around. He spent months brainstorming in London coffee shops with nothing to show for it except fruitless scribbles. But one day, Acton Smith’s napkin doodles yielded a series of little monsters, and he knew he had something. Those doodles would evolve into Moshi Monsters, an internet “pet” that, beginning in October 2007, would take the U.K. by storm. The world of Moshi Monsters was similar to that of Neopets or Tamagotchi -- kids could log on and feed, hug or walk their monsters, and the pets’ personalities developed according to how well they were treated. There were online games, puzzles, shops -- even a messaging system for kids to chat with their friends. And those kids were the product’s best ambassadors, spreading the game like wildfire among classmates, extended family and friends at different schools. “It took a few years before it caught fire, but when it did … it grew like nothing I’d ever seen before,” Acton Smith says. By the game’s 2012 peak, half of all British childrenages six to 12 had reportedly adopted a Moshi Monster. That level of growth resulted in a broad swath of partnerships. With Sony, a music album. With Universal Studios, a movie that premiered around the country. With SkyJack Publishing, a magazine that -- within six months of its launch -- became the best-selling children’s title in the U.K. Tens of millions of physical toys were being sold, awards were being won, team members were being hired (at one point, Mind Candy had more than 200 employees). “We thought we were going to be the next Disney,” Acton Smith says. But by fall 2012, Moshi Monsters had begun to fall apart. To Acton Smith’s shock, the virality that had propelled Moshi Monsters into being the “coolest thing on the playground” was also the principal factor in its demise. For the past couple of years, Moshi Monsters’ subscription model had been raking in revenue -- parents paid for their kids to use the site, and there wasn’t much competition at the time. But in 2012, parents began buying their kids smartphones and tablets instead. The brand faltered when it attempted the switch from internet platform to mobile app. The revenue model would have had to change from subscriptions to in-app purchases, the company’s marketing technique would have required an overhaul and, with thousands of other apps at a child’s fingertips, there was simply too much competition. One minute, Acton Smith felt like the poster boy of the U.K. tech scene with hundreds of millions of dollars at his disposal. A few weeks later, he couldn’t sleep through the night for fear of being unable to keep his company afloat. That constant stress would last for years. “I thought the world was ending,” Acton Smith says. He felt his self-worth and success were interwoven with the business, so when it began to fail, he felt completely responsible. That led to bouts of insomnia, exhaustion, headaches -- and things worsened when, over the next three years, he had to lay off 200 employees. Acton Smith learned a valuable lesson about the often-fickle world of entertainment -- particularly kids’ entertainment. “Just because you’re growing like crazy doesn’t mean you’re going to grow like crazy forever,” he says.

The Leap

In 2006, Acton Smith met Alex Tew for the first time on a boat. The year before, he’d seen a deluge of headlines surrounding Tew, a teenager who, to raise money for college, created a website and sold each of its million pixels for a dollar each -- reaching millionaire status in just four months. The two became fast friends, then housemates. Tew was the first person to teach Acton Smith about meditation, and they often sat on their sofa discussing philosophy, neuroscience and business ideas. In 2012, the two purchased Calm.com with the hazy idea to create products to help people relax, but although they floated ideas such as soothing videos and relaxing sound effects, they weren’t sure of its concrete direction. The next year, Tew moved to San Francisco for another job, and the two had regular transatlantic phone calls about the future of the company. The next year, for Acton Smith’s birthday, he, Tew and a group of friends took a trip to the Italian countryside. They had in-depth conversations about mindfulness and where they might take Calm, and they meditated together in the Tuscan hills. That same year, when Moshi Monsters’ revenue began to tank, Acton Smith did something he’d never done before: Take a step back, alone in a new place, and collect his thoughts. He decided on a solo trip to the Austrian Alps and brought along books on meditation. One of them, 10% Happier, struck a chord. Nightline anchor (and, as he puts it, “lifelong nonbeliever” in self-help) Dan Harris had penned it after experiencing a panic attack on Good Morning America, then finding a down-to-earth meditation regimen that worked for him. Something clicked for Acton Smith when he discovered that meditation wasn’t as much about incense or religion as it was about neuroscience. “I realized it was an ancient but valuable skill that could be relevant for everybody,” he said. He tried it on his hotel balcony on vacation, and afterward, he felt less stressed and more conscious of his breath. Colors even appeared more vivid. Though Tew had been pushing Calm’s focus on meditation for a while, it wasn’t until Acton Smith’s balcony meditation experience that he agreed. Later that day, Acton Smith pulled out his notebook and poured out ideas for the company. He had experienced firsthand how stressful life -- and business -- was in Western society, and he felt that for most people, the future skewed even more stressful. He remembers thinking: Instead of being in the entertainment industry -- here today, gone tomorrow -- what if we could build a brand that could outlast us and be here for centuries? Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing to dedicate the rest of our careers to? Over the next year or two, Tew and Acton Smith chatted via phone, found developers and started to build Calm as it is now -- guided meditation and programs for everyone, both beginner and advanced. By January 2016, Acton Smith finally felt ready to step away from Mind Candy. He found a new CEO to take over (though he maintains, to date, his role as chairman) and moved to San Francisco to dedicate himself completely to Calm. He and Tew, who had already been working full time on Calm, agreed to be co-CEOs and split the company equally, but at the time, revenue was touch-and-go -- and the company didn’t have much money banked.

The Breaking Point

During the first half of 2016, Acton Smith worried whether Calm would be able to “keep the lights on.” At the company’s lowest point, there were a few thousand dollars left in the bank. It didn’t help that potential investors kept giving them the boot. Acton Smith and Tew left dozens of pitch meetings with “no” ringing in their ears. “When that happens a few times, you can cope,” Acton Smith says. “When it happens dozens of times, it makes you question whether you’re on the right path and whether smart investors know more than you do.” Acton Smith heard through the grapevine that one investor had called Calm a “load of nonsense,” saying it was “never going to work.” He remembers another described the company as a “fluffy little meditation app.” Venture capitalists backed up their decisions with an investing idea championed by Warren Buffett -- the need for a “moat,” or an ability to maintain an advantage over competitors. Everyone seemed to think consumers could access the same services elsewhere for free -- that they wouldn’t pay for what Calm offered.

The Turnaround

After about six months, Acton Smith and Tew decided they had no choice but to make the business profitable. They kept the team size under 10, worked long hours in a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco and sharply questioned every outgoing dollar. Acton Smith paid for many of Calm’s expenses on his personal credit card. By early 2016, Calm finally broke even.

Acton Smith and Calm co-founder Alex Tew Image credit: Calm Although the small team worked out of that one-bedroom apartment for the first year or so, it’s now grown to 40 employees -- and together, they begin each day with a 10-minute meditation. Acton Smith said he feels Calm is holding onto a rocket ship for dear life and that there’s much further to go. He projected Calm’s 2018 revenue to be $80 million -- a far cry from the tens of thousands he spent on his credit card during launch. In June, Calm raised $27 million in a Series A funding round -- pegging the company’s valuation at $250 million. “The mind doesn’t come with an instruction manual,” Acton Smith says. “This is … the closest thing I’ve found.” To date, 35 million people have downloaded Calm, but, he says, that’s less than 2 percent of the number of smartphones worldwide. Acton Smith says he aims to bring meditation to every single one.

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[radlybatesconsulting-blog]

Adam Radly Bob Bates: $250m valuation by pivot from online games to meditation company

Adam Radly Bob Bates https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/321960 One summer morning in 2014, Michael Acton Smith sat on a balcony overlooking a lush green valley in the Austrian alps. He had booked a vacation by himself to get away from the stress of his crumbling online gaming company. The view, composed of abundant grass and far-off mountains, seemed almost cookie-cutter -- evoking a postcard, a computer desktop, a backdrop to rousing words on a motivational poster. But Acton Smith wasn’t taking in the scenery. His eyes were closed, and his mind was clear. That stretch -- 10 minutes of peace, he recalls -- was the co-founder of Calm’s most clarifying meditation experience. A friend (and Calm’s co-founder), Alex Tew, had entreated him to try the practice, but Acton Smith had rolled his eyes for years. It's too woo-woo, he thought. Religious. And what's up with the incense and outfits? Finally, after a mountain of stress at his company and continued encouragement from Tew, Acton Smith gave meditation a real shot. Two years later, Acton Smith would join Tew in devoting himself to Calm full-time. It paid off. In 2015, he said, the meditation app brought in $2 million. By 2017, revenue had multiplied tenfold -- and the company won out over millions of others for Apple’s App of the Year. Seated on that balcony in 2014, conscious of his breath, Acton Smith opened his eyes for the first time. He calls it his lightbulb moment. Everything around him seemed brighter.

The Detour

Acton Smith’s childhood was filled with pet rocks, Tamagotchis and video games, so it was only natural that around age 30, he started a kids’ entertainment company. Mind Candy focused on online gaming, and soon after its launch in 2003, Acton Smith raised $10 million in venture funding. The idea that landed him the cash? Perplex City, a long-term alternative reality game in the form of a global treasure hunt. Users around the world would search for a stolen artifact from a fictional metropolis (Perplex City) using clues, puzzles and ciphers, the winner receiving a real-life reward of 100,000 pounds. The search began in April 2005. Clues were decoded, trading cards were purchased and communities were formed, with the game wrapping up after one man found the artifact and won the reward in February 2007. But the game, at least financially speaking, was better in theory, and Mind Candy put the second round on hold indefinitely. It was a “commercial disaster,” Acton Smith says. With less than $1 million left in the company’s account, he knew he had to do something quick to turn things around. He spent months brainstorming in London coffee shops with nothing to show for it except fruitless scribbles. But one day, Acton Smith’s napkin doodles yielded a series of little monsters, and he knew he had something. Those doodles would evolve into Moshi Monsters, an internet “pet” that, beginning in October 2007, would take the U.K. by storm. The world of Moshi Monsters was similar to that of Neopets or Tamagotchi -- kids could log on and feed, hug or walk their monsters, and the pets’ personalities developed according to how well they were treated. There were online games, puzzles, shops -- even a messaging system for kids to chat with their friends. And those kids were the product’s best ambassadors, spreading the game like wildfire among classmates, extended family and friends at different schools. “It took a few years before it caught fire, but when it did … it grew like nothing I’d ever seen before,” Acton Smith says. By the game’s 2012 peak, half of all British childrenages six to 12 had reportedly adopted a Moshi Monster. That level of growth resulted in a broad swath of partnerships. With Sony, a music album. With Universal Studios, a movie that premiered around the country. With SkyJack Publishing, a magazine that -- within six months of its launch -- became the best-selling children’s title in the U.K. Tens of millions of physical toys were being sold, awards were being won, team members were being hired (at one point, Mind Candy had more than 200 employees). “We thought we were going to be the next Disney,” Acton Smith says. But by fall 2012, Moshi Monsters had begun to fall apart. To Acton Smith’s shock, the virality that had propelled Moshi Monsters into being the “coolest thing on the playground” was also the principal factor in its demise. For the past couple of years, Moshi Monsters’ subscription model had been raking in revenue -- parents paid for their kids to use the site, and there wasn’t much competition at the time. But in 2012, parents began buying their kids smartphones and tablets instead. The brand faltered when it attempted the switch from internet platform to mobile app. The revenue model would have had to change from subscriptions to in-app purchases, the company’s marketing technique would have required an overhaul and, with thousands of other apps at a child’s fingertips, there was simply too much competition. One minute, Acton Smith felt like the poster boy of the U.K. tech scene with hundreds of millions of dollars at his disposal. A few weeks later, he couldn’t sleep through the night for fear of being unable to keep his company afloat. That constant stress would last for years. “I thought the world was ending,” Acton Smith says. He felt his self-worth and success were interwoven with the business, so when it began to fail, he felt completely responsible. That led to bouts of insomnia, exhaustion, headaches -- and things worsened when, over the next three years, he had to lay off 200 employees. Acton Smith learned a valuable lesson about the often-fickle world of entertainment -- particularly kids’ entertainment. “Just because you’re growing like crazy doesn’t mean you’re going to grow like crazy forever,” he says.

The Leap

In 2006, Acton Smith met Alex Tew for the first time on a boat. The year before, he’d seen a deluge of headlines surrounding Tew, a teenager who, to raise money for college, created a website and sold each of its million pixels for a dollar each -- reaching millionaire status in just four months. The two became fast friends, then housemates. Tew was the first person to teach Acton Smith about meditation, and they often sat on their sofa discussing philosophy, neuroscience and business ideas. In 2012, the two purchased Calm.com with the hazy idea to create products to help people relax, but although they floated ideas such as soothing videos and relaxing sound effects, they weren’t sure of its concrete direction. The next year, Tew moved to San Francisco for another job, and the two had regular transatlantic phone calls about the future of the company. The next year, for Acton Smith’s birthday, he, Tew and a group of friends took a trip to the Italian countryside. They had in-depth conversations about mindfulness and where they might take Calm, and they meditated together in the Tuscan hills. That same year, when Moshi Monsters’ revenue began to tank, Acton Smith did something he’d never done before: Take a step back, alone in a new place, and collect his thoughts. He decided on a solo trip to the Austrian Alps and brought along books on meditation. One of them, 10% Happier, struck a chord. Nightline anchor (and, as he puts it, “lifelong nonbeliever” in self-help) Dan Harris had penned it after experiencing a panic attack on Good Morning America, then finding a down-to-earth meditation regimen that worked for him. Something clicked for Acton Smith when he discovered that meditation wasn’t as much about incense or religion as it was about neuroscience. “I realized it was an ancient but valuable skill that could be relevant for everybody,” he said. He tried it on his hotel balcony on vacation, and afterward, he felt less stressed and more conscious of his breath. Colors even appeared more vivid. Though Tew had been pushing Calm’s focus on meditation for a while, it wasn’t until Acton Smith’s balcony meditation experience that he agreed. Later that day, Acton Smith pulled out his notebook and poured out ideas for the company. He had experienced firsthand how stressful life -- and business -- was in Western society, and he felt that for most people, the future skewed even more stressful. He remembers thinking: Instead of being in the entertainment industry -- here today, gone tomorrow -- what if we could build a brand that could outlast us and be here for centuries? Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing to dedicate the rest of our careers to? Over the next year or two, Tew and Acton Smith chatted via phone, found developers and started to build Calm as it is now -- guided meditation and programs for everyone, both beginner and advanced. By January 2016, Acton Smith finally felt ready to step away from Mind Candy. He found a new CEO to take over (though he maintains, to date, his role as chairman) and moved to San Francisco to dedicate himself completely to Calm. He and Tew, who had already been working full time on Calm, agreed to be co-CEOs and split the company equally, but at the time, revenue was touch-and-go -- and the company didn’t have much money banked.

The Breaking Point

During the first half of 2016, Acton Smith worried whether Calm would be able to “keep the lights on.” At the company’s lowest point, there were a few thousand dollars left in the bank. It didn’t help that potential investors kept giving them the boot. Acton Smith and Tew left dozens of pitch meetings with “no” ringing in their ears. “When that happens a few times, you can cope,” Acton Smith says. “When it happens dozens of times, it makes you question whether you’re on the right path and whether smart investors know more than you do.” Acton Smith heard through the grapevine that one investor had called Calm a “load of nonsense,” saying it was “never going to work.” He remembers another described the company as a “fluffy little meditation app.” Venture capitalists backed up their decisions with an investing idea championed by Warren Buffett -- the need for a “moat,” or an ability to maintain an advantage over competitors. Everyone seemed to think consumers could access the same services elsewhere for free -- that they wouldn’t pay for what Calm offered.

The Turnaround

After about six months, Acton Smith and Tew decided they had no choice but to make the business profitable. They kept the team size under 10, worked long hours in a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco and sharply questioned every outgoing dollar. Acton Smith paid for many of Calm’s expenses on his personal credit card. By early 2016, Calm finally broke even.

Acton Smith and Calm co-founder Alex Tew Image credit: Calm Although the small team worked out of that one-bedroom apartment for the first year or so, it’s now grown to 40 employees -- and together, they begin each day with a 10-minute meditation. Acton Smith said he feels Calm is holding onto a rocket ship for dear life and that there’s much further to go. He projected Calm’s 2018 revenue to be $80 million -- a far cry from the tens of thousands he spent on his credit card during launch. In June, Calm raised $27 million in a Series A funding round -- pegging the company’s valuation at $250 million. “The mind doesn’t come with an instruction manual,” Acton Smith says. “This is … the closest thing I’ve found.” To date, 35 million people have downloaded Calm, but, he says, that’s less than 2 percent of the number of smartphones worldwide. Acton Smith says he aims to bring meditation to every single one.

Radly Bates affiliates: S7 Group Radly Bates Index Radly Bates Consulting Radly Bates Capital Radly Bates Associates Radly Bates Digital Radly Bates Valuations Follow us on social: https://issuu.com/radlybatesconsulting https://issuu.com/radlybatescapital https://issuu.com/radlybatesdigital https://issuu.com/radlybatesassociates. https://issuu.com/radlybatesvaluations https://issuu.com/s7loans  

      Read the full article

[radlybatesassociates-blog]

Adam Radly Bob Bates: $250m valuation by pivot from online games to meditation company

Adam Radly Bob Bates https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/321960 One summer morning in 2014, Michael Acton Smith sat on a balcony overlooking a lush green valley in the Austrian alps. He had booked a vacation by himself to get away from the stress of his crumbling online gaming company. The view, composed of abundant grass and far-off mountains, seemed almost cookie-cutter -- evoking a postcard, a computer desktop, a backdrop to rousing words on a motivational poster. But Acton Smith wasn’t taking in the scenery. His eyes were closed, and his mind was clear. That stretch -- 10 minutes of peace, he recalls -- was the co-founder of Calm’s most clarifying meditation experience. A friend (and Calm’s co-founder), Alex Tew, had entreated him to try the practice, but Acton Smith had rolled his eyes for years. It's too woo-woo, he thought. Religious. And what's up with the incense and outfits? Finally, after a mountain of stress at his company and continued encouragement from Tew, Acton Smith gave meditation a real shot. Two years later, Acton Smith would join Tew in devoting himself to Calm full-time. It paid off. In 2015, he said, the meditation app brought in $2 million. By 2017, revenue had multiplied tenfold -- and the company won out over millions of others for Apple’s App of the Year. Seated on that balcony in 2014, conscious of his breath, Acton Smith opened his eyes for the first time. He calls it his lightbulb moment. Everything around him seemed brighter.

The Detour

Acton Smith’s childhood was filled with pet rocks, Tamagotchis and video games, so it was only natural that around age 30, he started a kids’ entertainment company. Mind Candy focused on online gaming, and soon after its launch in 2003, Acton Smith raised $10 million in venture funding. The idea that landed him the cash? Perplex City, a long-term alternative reality game in the form of a global treasure hunt. Users around the world would search for a stolen artifact from a fictional metropolis (Perplex City) using clues, puzzles and ciphers, the winner receiving a real-life reward of 100,000 pounds. The search began in April 2005. Clues were decoded, trading cards were purchased and communities were formed, with the game wrapping up after one man found the artifact and won the reward in February 2007. But the game, at least financially speaking, was better in theory, and Mind Candy put the second round on hold indefinitely. It was a “commercial disaster,” Acton Smith says. With less than $1 million left in the company’s account, he knew he had to do something quick to turn things around. He spent months brainstorming in London coffee shops with nothing to show for it except fruitless scribbles. But one day, Acton Smith’s napkin doodles yielded a series of little monsters, and he knew he had something. Those doodles would evolve into Moshi Monsters, an internet “pet” that, beginning in October 2007, would take the U.K. by storm. The world of Moshi Monsters was similar to that of Neopets or Tamagotchi -- kids could log on and feed, hug or walk their monsters, and the pets’ personalities developed according to how well they were treated. There were online games, puzzles, shops -- even a messaging system for kids to chat with their friends. And those kids were the product’s best ambassadors, spreading the game like wildfire among classmates, extended family and friends at different schools. “It took a few years before it caught fire, but when it did … it grew like nothing I’d ever seen before,” Acton Smith says. By the game’s 2012 peak, half of all British childrenages six to 12 had reportedly adopted a Moshi Monster. That level of growth resulted in a broad swath of partnerships. With Sony, a music album. With Universal Studios, a movie that premiered around the country. With SkyJack Publishing, a magazine that -- within six months of its launch -- became the best-selling children’s title in the U.K. Tens of millions of physical toys were being sold, awards were being won, team members were being hired (at one point, Mind Candy had more than 200 employees). “We thought we were going to be the next Disney,” Acton Smith says. But by fall 2012, Moshi Monsters had begun to fall apart. To Acton Smith’s shock, the virality that had propelled Moshi Monsters into being the “coolest thing on the playground” was also the principal factor in its demise. For the past couple of years, Moshi Monsters’ subscription model had been raking in revenue -- parents paid for their kids to use the site, and there wasn’t much competition at the time. But in 2012, parents began buying their kids smartphones and tablets instead. The brand faltered when it attempted the switch from internet platform to mobile app. The revenue model would have had to change from subscriptions to in-app purchases, the company’s marketing technique would have required an overhaul and, with thousands of other apps at a child’s fingertips, there was simply too much competition. One minute, Acton Smith felt like the poster boy of the U.K. tech scene with hundreds of millions of dollars at his disposal. A few weeks later, he couldn’t sleep through the night for fear of being unable to keep his company afloat. That constant stress would last for years. “I thought the world was ending,” Acton Smith says. He felt his self-worth and success were interwoven with the business, so when it began to fail, he felt completely responsible. That led to bouts of insomnia, exhaustion, headaches -- and things worsened when, over the next three years, he had to lay off 200 employees. Acton Smith learned a valuable lesson about the often-fickle world of entertainment -- particularly kids’ entertainment. “Just because you’re growing like crazy doesn’t mean you’re going to grow like crazy forever,” he says.

The Leap

In 2006, Acton Smith met Alex Tew for the first time on a boat. The year before, he’d seen a deluge of headlines surrounding Tew, a teenager who, to raise money for college, created a website and sold each of its million pixels for a dollar each -- reaching millionaire status in just four months. The two became fast friends, then housemates. Tew was the first person to teach Acton Smith about meditation, and they often sat on their sofa discussing philosophy, neuroscience and business ideas. In 2012, the two purchased Calm.com with the hazy idea to create products to help people relax, but although they floated ideas such as soothing videos and relaxing sound effects, they weren’t sure of its concrete direction. The next year, Tew moved to San Francisco for another job, and the two had regular transatlantic phone calls about the future of the company. The next year, for Acton Smith’s birthday, he, Tew and a group of friends took a trip to the Italian countryside. They had in-depth conversations about mindfulness and where they might take Calm, and they meditated together in the Tuscan hills. That same year, when Moshi Monsters’ revenue began to tank, Acton Smith did something he’d never done before: Take a step back, alone in a new place, and collect his thoughts. He decided on a solo trip to the Austrian Alps and brought along books on meditation. One of them, 10% Happier, struck a chord. Nightline anchor (and, as he puts it, “lifelong nonbeliever” in self-help) Dan Harris had penned it after experiencing a panic attack on Good Morning America, then finding a down-to-earth meditation regimen that worked for him. Something clicked for Acton Smith when he discovered that meditation wasn’t as much about incense or religion as it was about neuroscience. “I realized it was an ancient but valuable skill that could be relevant for everybody,” he said. He tried it on his hotel balcony on vacation, and afterward, he felt less stressed and more conscious of his breath. Colors even appeared more vivid. Though Tew had been pushing Calm’s focus on meditation for a while, it wasn’t until Acton Smith’s balcony meditation experience that he agreed. Later that day, Acton Smith pulled out his notebook and poured out ideas for the company. He had experienced firsthand how stressful life -- and business -- was in Western society, and he felt that for most people, the future skewed even more stressful. He remembers thinking: Instead of being in the entertainment industry -- here today, gone tomorrow -- what if we could build a brand that could outlast us and be here for centuries? Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing to dedicate the rest of our careers to? Over the next year or two, Tew and Acton Smith chatted via phone, found developers and started to build Calm as it is now -- guided meditation and programs for everyone, both beginner and advanced. By January 2016, Acton Smith finally felt ready to step away from Mind Candy. He found a new CEO to take over (though he maintains, to date, his role as chairman) and moved to San Francisco to dedicate himself completely to Calm. He and Tew, who had already been working full time on Calm, agreed to be co-CEOs and split the company equally, but at the time, revenue was touch-and-go -- and the company didn’t have much money banked.

The Breaking Point

During the first half of 2016, Acton Smith worried whether Calm would be able to “keep the lights on.” At the company’s lowest point, there were a few thousand dollars left in the bank. It didn’t help that potential investors kept giving them the boot. Acton Smith and Tew left dozens of pitch meetings with “no” ringing in their ears. “When that happens a few times, you can cope,” Acton Smith says. “When it happens dozens of times, it makes you question whether you’re on the right path and whether smart investors know more than you do.” Acton Smith heard through the grapevine that one investor had called Calm a “load of nonsense,” saying it was “never going to work.” He remembers another described the company as a “fluffy little meditation app.” Venture capitalists backed up their decisions with an investing idea championed by Warren Buffett -- the need for a “moat,” or an ability to maintain an advantage over competitors. Everyone seemed to think consumers could access the same services elsewhere for free -- that they wouldn’t pay for what Calm offered.

The Turnaround

After about six months, Acton Smith and Tew decided they had no choice but to make the business profitable. They kept the team size under 10, worked long hours in a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco and sharply questioned every outgoing dollar. Acton Smith paid for many of Calm’s expenses on his personal credit card. By early 2016, Calm finally broke even.

Acton Smith and Calm co-founder Alex Tew Image credit: Calm Although the small team worked out of that one-bedroom apartment for the first year or so, it’s now grown to 40 employees -- and together, they begin each day with a 10-minute meditation. Acton Smith said he feels Calm is holding onto a rocket ship for dear life and that there’s much further to go. He projected Calm’s 2018 revenue to be $80 million -- a far cry from the tens of thousands he spent on his credit card during launch. In June, Calm raised $27 million in a Series A funding round -- pegging the company’s valuation at $250 million. “The mind doesn’t come with an instruction manual,” Acton Smith says. “This is … the closest thing I’ve found.” To date, 35 million people have downloaded Calm, but, he says, that’s less than 2 percent of the number of smartphones worldwide. Acton Smith says he aims to bring meditation to every single one.

Radly Bates affiliates: S7 Group Radly Bates Index Radly Bates Consulting Radly Bates Capital Radly Bates Associates Radly Bates Digital Radly Bates Valuations Follow us on social: https://issuu.com/radlybatesconsulting https://issuu.com/radlybatescapital https://issuu.com/radlybatesdigital https://issuu.com/radlybatesassociates. https://issuu.com/radlybatesvaluations https://issuu.com/s7loans  

      Read the full article

[s7groupinc-blog]

Adam Radly Bob Bates: $250m valuation by pivot from online games to meditation company

Adam Radly Bob Bates https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/321960 One summer morning in 2014, Michael Acton Smith sat on a balcony overlooking a lush green valley in the Austrian alps. He had booked a vacation by himself to get away from the stress of his crumbling online gaming company. The view, composed of abundant grass and far-off mountains, seemed almost cookie-cutter -- evoking a postcard, a computer desktop, a backdrop to rousing words on a motivational poster. But Acton Smith wasn’t taking in the scenery. His eyes were closed, and his mind was clear. That stretch -- 10 minutes of peace, he recalls -- was the co-founder of Calm’s most clarifying meditation experience. A friend (and Calm’s co-founder), Alex Tew, had entreated him to try the practice, but Acton Smith had rolled his eyes for years. It's too woo-woo, he thought. Religious. And what's up with the incense and outfits? Finally, after a mountain of stress at his company and continued encouragement from Tew, Acton Smith gave meditation a real shot. Two years later, Acton Smith would join Tew in devoting himself to Calm full-time. It paid off. In 2015, he said, the meditation app brought in $2 million. By 2017, revenue had multiplied tenfold -- and the company won out over millions of others for Apple’s App of the Year. Seated on that balcony in 2014, conscious of his breath, Acton Smith opened his eyes for the first time. He calls it his lightbulb moment. Everything around him seemed brighter.

The Detour

Acton Smith’s childhood was filled with pet rocks, Tamagotchis and video games, so it was only natural that around age 30, he started a kids’ entertainment company. Mind Candy focused on online gaming, and soon after its launch in 2003, Acton Smith raised $10 million in venture funding. The idea that landed him the cash? Perplex City, a long-term alternative reality game in the form of a global treasure hunt. Users around the world would search for a stolen artifact from a fictional metropolis (Perplex City) using clues, puzzles and ciphers, the winner receiving a real-life reward of 100,000 pounds. The search began in April 2005. Clues were decoded, trading cards were purchased and communities were formed, with the game wrapping up after one man found the artifact and won the reward in February 2007. But the game, at least financially speaking, was better in theory, and Mind Candy put the second round on hold indefinitely. It was a “commercial disaster,” Acton Smith says. With less than $1 million left in the company’s account, he knew he had to do something quick to turn things around. He spent months brainstorming in London coffee shops with nothing to show for it except fruitless scribbles. But one day, Acton Smith’s napkin doodles yielded a series of little monsters, and he knew he had something. Those doodles would evolve into Moshi Monsters, an internet “pet” that, beginning in October 2007, would take the U.K. by storm. The world of Moshi Monsters was similar to that of Neopets or Tamagotchi -- kids could log on and feed, hug or walk their monsters, and the pets’ personalities developed according to how well they were treated. There were online games, puzzles, shops -- even a messaging system for kids to chat with their friends. And those kids were the product’s best ambassadors, spreading the game like wildfire among classmates, extended family and friends at different schools. “It took a few years before it caught fire, but when it did … it grew like nothing I’d ever seen before,” Acton Smith says. By the game’s 2012 peak, half of all British childrenages six to 12 had reportedly adopted a Moshi Monster. That level of growth resulted in a broad swath of partnerships. With Sony, a music album. With Universal Studios, a movie that premiered around the country. With SkyJack Publishing, a magazine that -- within six months of its launch -- became the best-selling children’s title in the U.K. Tens of millions of physical toys were being sold, awards were being won, team members were being hired (at one point, Mind Candy had more than 200 employees). “We thought we were going to be the next Disney,” Acton Smith says. But by fall 2012, Moshi Monsters had begun to fall apart. To Acton Smith’s shock, the virality that had propelled Moshi Monsters into being the “coolest thing on the playground” was also the principal factor in its demise. For the past couple of years, Moshi Monsters’ subscription model had been raking in revenue -- parents paid for their kids to use the site, and there wasn’t much competition at the time. But in 2012, parents began buying their kids smartphones and tablets instead. The brand faltered when it attempted the switch from internet platform to mobile app. The revenue model would have had to change from subscriptions to in-app purchases, the company’s marketing technique would have required an overhaul and, with thousands of other apps at a child’s fingertips, there was simply too much competition. One minute, Acton Smith felt like the poster boy of the U.K. tech scene with hundreds of millions of dollars at his disposal. A few weeks later, he couldn’t sleep through the night for fear of being unable to keep his company afloat. That constant stress would last for years. “I thought the world was ending,” Acton Smith says. He felt his self-worth and success were interwoven with the business, so when it began to fail, he felt completely responsible. That led to bouts of insomnia, exhaustion, headaches -- and things worsened when, over the next three years, he had to lay off 200 employees. Acton Smith learned a valuable lesson about the often-fickle world of entertainment -- particularly kids’ entertainment. “Just because you’re growing like crazy doesn’t mean you’re going to grow like crazy forever,” he says.

The Leap

In 2006, Acton Smith met Alex Tew for the first time on a boat. The year before, he’d seen a deluge of headlines surrounding Tew, a teenager who, to raise money for college, created a website and sold each of its million pixels for a dollar each -- reaching millionaire status in just four months. The two became fast friends, then housemates. Tew was the first person to teach Acton Smith about meditation, and they often sat on their sofa discussing philosophy, neuroscience and business ideas. In 2012, the two purchased Calm.com with the hazy idea to create products to help people relax, but although they floated ideas such as soothing videos and relaxing sound effects, they weren’t sure of its concrete direction. The next year, Tew moved to San Francisco for another job, and the two had regular transatlantic phone calls about the future of the company. The next year, for Acton Smith’s birthday, he, Tew and a group of friends took a trip to the Italian countryside. They had in-depth conversations about mindfulness and where they might take Calm, and they meditated together in the Tuscan hills. That same year, when Moshi Monsters’ revenue began to tank, Acton Smith did something he’d never done before: Take a step back, alone in a new place, and collect his thoughts. He decided on a solo trip to the Austrian Alps and brought along books on meditation. One of them, 10% Happier, struck a chord. Nightline anchor (and, as he puts it, “lifelong nonbeliever” in self-help) Dan Harris had penned it after experiencing a panic attack on Good Morning America, then finding a down-to-earth meditation regimen that worked for him. Something clicked for Acton Smith when he discovered that meditation wasn’t as much about incense or religion as it was about neuroscience. “I realized it was an ancient but valuable skill that could be relevant for everybody,” he said. He tried it on his hotel balcony on vacation, and afterward, he felt less stressed and more conscious of his breath. Colors even appeared more vivid. Though Tew had been pushing Calm’s focus on meditation for a while, it wasn’t until Acton Smith’s balcony meditation experience that he agreed. Later that day, Acton Smith pulled out his notebook and poured out ideas for the company. He had experienced firsthand how stressful life -- and business -- was in Western society, and he felt that for most people, the future skewed even more stressful. He remembers thinking: Instead of being in the entertainment industry -- here today, gone tomorrow -- what if we could build a brand that could outlast us and be here for centuries? Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing to dedicate the rest of our careers to? Over the next year or two, Tew and Acton Smith chatted via phone, found developers and started to build Calm as it is now -- guided meditation and programs for everyone, both beginner and advanced. By January 2016, Acton Smith finally felt ready to step away from Mind Candy. He found a new CEO to take over (though he maintains, to date, his role as chairman) and moved to San Francisco to dedicate himself completely to Calm. He and Tew, who had already been working full time on Calm, agreed to be co-CEOs and split the company equally, but at the time, revenue was touch-and-go -- and the company didn’t have much money banked.

The Breaking Point

During the first half of 2016, Acton Smith worried whether Calm would be able to “keep the lights on.” At the company’s lowest point, there were a few thousand dollars left in the bank. It didn’t help that potential investors kept giving them the boot. Acton Smith and Tew left dozens of pitch meetings with “no” ringing in their ears. “When that happens a few times, you can cope,” Acton Smith says. “When it happens dozens of times, it makes you question whether you’re on the right path and whether smart investors know more than you do.” Acton Smith heard through the grapevine that one investor had called Calm a “load of nonsense,” saying it was “never going to work.” He remembers another described the company as a “fluffy little meditation app.” Venture capitalists backed up their decisions with an investing idea championed by Warren Buffett -- the need for a “moat,” or an ability to maintain an advantage over competitors. Everyone seemed to think consumers could access the same services elsewhere for free -- that they wouldn’t pay for what Calm offered.

The Turnaround

After about six months, Acton Smith and Tew decided they had no choice but to make the business profitable. They kept the team size under 10, worked long hours in a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco and sharply questioned every outgoing dollar. Acton Smith paid for many of Calm’s expenses on his personal credit card. By early 2016, Calm finally broke even.

Acton Smith and Calm co-founder Alex Tew Image credit: Calm Although the small team worked out of that one-bedroom apartment for the first year or so, it’s now grown to 40 employees -- and together, they begin each day with a 10-minute meditation. Acton Smith said he feels Calm is holding onto a rocket ship for dear life and that there’s much further to go. He projected Calm’s 2018 revenue to be $80 million -- a far cry from the tens of thousands he spent on his credit card during launch. In June, Calm raised $27 million in a Series A funding round -- pegging the company’s valuation at $250 million. “The mind doesn’t come with an instruction manual,” Acton Smith says. “This is … the closest thing I’ve found.” To date, 35 million people have downloaded Calm, but, he says, that’s less than 2 percent of the number of smartphones worldwide. Acton Smith says he aims to bring meditation to every single one.

Radly Bates affiliates: S7 Group Radly Bates Index Radly Bates Consulting Radly Bates Capital Radly Bates Associates Radly Bates Digital Radly Bates Valuations Follow us on social: https://issuu.com/radlybatesconsulting https://issuu.com/radlybatescapital https://issuu.com/radlybatesdigital https://issuu.com/radlybatesassociates. https://issuu.com/radlybatesvaluations https://issuu.com/s7loans  

      Read the full article

[radlybatescapital-blog]

Adam Radly Bob Bates: $250m valuation by pivot from online games to meditation company

Adam Radly Bob Bates https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/321960 One summer morning in 2014, Michael Acton Smith sat on a balcony overlooking a lush green valley in the Austrian alps. He had booked a vacation by himself to get away from the stress of his crumbling online gaming company. The view, composed of abundant grass and far-off mountains, seemed almost cookie-cutter -- evoking a postcard, a computer desktop, a backdrop to rousing words on a motivational poster. But Acton Smith wasn’t taking in the scenery. His eyes were closed, and his mind was clear. That stretch -- 10 minutes of peace, he recalls -- was the co-founder of Calm’s most clarifying meditation experience. A friend (and Calm’s co-founder), Alex Tew, had entreated him to try the practice, but Acton Smith had rolled his eyes for years. It's too woo-woo, he thought. Religious. And what's up with the incense and outfits? Finally, after a mountain of stress at his company and continued encouragement from Tew, Acton Smith gave meditation a real shot. Two years later, Acton Smith would join Tew in devoting himself to Calm full-time. It paid off. In 2015, he said, the meditation app brought in $2 million. By 2017, revenue had multiplied tenfold -- and the company won out over millions of others for Apple’s App of the Year. Seated on that balcony in 2014, conscious of his breath, Acton Smith opened his eyes for the first time. He calls it his lightbulb moment. Everything around him seemed brighter.

The Detour

Acton Smith’s childhood was filled with pet rocks, Tamagotchis and video games, so it was only natural that around age 30, he started a kids’ entertainment company. Mind Candy focused on online gaming, and soon after its launch in 2003, Acton Smith raised $10 million in venture funding. The idea that landed him the cash? Perplex City, a long-term alternative reality game in the form of a global treasure hunt. Users around the world would search for a stolen artifact from a fictional metropolis (Perplex City) using clues, puzzles and ciphers, the winner receiving a real-life reward of 100,000 pounds. The search began in April 2005. Clues were decoded, trading cards were purchased and communities were formed, with the game wrapping up after one man found the artifact and won the reward in February 2007. But the game, at least financially speaking, was better in theory, and Mind Candy put the second round on hold indefinitely. It was a “commercial disaster,” Acton Smith says. With less than $1 million left in the company’s account, he knew he had to do something quick to turn things around. He spent months brainstorming in London coffee shops with nothing to show for it except fruitless scribbles. But one day, Acton Smith’s napkin doodles yielded a series of little monsters, and he knew he had something. Those doodles would evolve into Moshi Monsters, an internet “pet” that, beginning in October 2007, would take the U.K. by storm. The world of Moshi Monsters was similar to that of Neopets or Tamagotchi -- kids could log on and feed, hug or walk their monsters, and the pets’ personalities developed according to how well they were treated. There were online games, puzzles, shops -- even a messaging system for kids to chat with their friends. And those kids were the product’s best ambassadors, spreading the game like wildfire among classmates, extended family and friends at different schools. “It took a few years before it caught fire, but when it did … it grew like nothing I’d ever seen before,” Acton Smith says. By the game’s 2012 peak, half of all British childrenages six to 12 had reportedly adopted a Moshi Monster. That level of growth resulted in a broad swath of partnerships. With Sony, a music album. With Universal Studios, a movie that premiered around the country. With SkyJack Publishing, a magazine that -- within six months of its launch -- became the best-selling children’s title in the U.K. Tens of millions of physical toys were being sold, awards were being won, team members were being hired (at one point, Mind Candy had more than 200 employees). “We thought we were going to be the next Disney,” Acton Smith says. But by fall 2012, Moshi Monsters had begun to fall apart. To Acton Smith’s shock, the virality that had propelled Moshi Monsters into being the “coolest thing on the playground” was also the principal factor in its demise. For the past couple of years, Moshi Monsters’ subscription model had been raking in revenue -- parents paid for their kids to use the site, and there wasn’t much competition at the time. But in 2012, parents began buying their kids smartphones and tablets instead. The brand faltered when it attempted the switch from internet platform to mobile app. The revenue model would have had to change from subscriptions to in-app purchases, the company’s marketing technique would have required an overhaul and, with thousands of other apps at a child’s fingertips, there was simply too much competition. One minute, Acton Smith felt like the poster boy of the U.K. tech scene with hundreds of millions of dollars at his disposal. A few weeks later, he couldn’t sleep through the night for fear of being unable to keep his company afloat. That constant stress would last for years. “I thought the world was ending,” Acton Smith says. He felt his self-worth and success were interwoven with the business, so when it began to fail, he felt completely responsible. That led to bouts of insomnia, exhaustion, headaches -- and things worsened when, over the next three years, he had to lay off 200 employees. Acton Smith learned a valuable lesson about the often-fickle world of entertainment -- particularly kids’ entertainment. “Just because you’re growing like crazy doesn’t mean you’re going to grow like crazy forever,” he says.

The Leap

In 2006, Acton Smith met Alex Tew for the first time on a boat. The year before, he’d seen a deluge of headlines surrounding Tew, a teenager who, to raise money for college, created a website and sold each of its million pixels for a dollar each -- reaching millionaire status in just four months. The two became fast friends, then housemates. Tew was the first person to teach Acton Smith about meditation, and they often sat on their sofa discussing philosophy, neuroscience and business ideas. In 2012, the two purchased Calm.com with the hazy idea to create products to help people relax, but although they floated ideas such as soothing videos and relaxing sound effects, they weren’t sure of its concrete direction. The next year, Tew moved to San Francisco for another job, and the two had regular transatlantic phone calls about the future of the company. The next year, for Acton Smith’s birthday, he, Tew and a group of friends took a trip to the Italian countryside. They had in-depth conversations about mindfulness and where they might take Calm, and they meditated together in the Tuscan hills. That same year, when Moshi Monsters’ revenue began to tank, Acton Smith did something he’d never done before: Take a step back, alone in a new place, and collect his thoughts. He decided on a solo trip to the Austrian Alps and brought along books on meditation. One of them, 10% Happier, struck a chord. Nightline anchor (and, as he puts it, “lifelong nonbeliever” in self-help) Dan Harris had penned it after experiencing a panic attack on Good Morning America, then finding a down-to-earth meditation regimen that worked for him. Something clicked for Acton Smith when he discovered that meditation wasn’t as much about incense or religion as it was about neuroscience. “I realized it was an ancient but valuable skill that could be relevant for everybody,” he said. He tried it on his hotel balcony on vacation, and afterward, he felt less stressed and more conscious of his breath. Colors even appeared more vivid. Though Tew had been pushing Calm’s focus on meditation for a while, it wasn’t until Acton Smith’s balcony meditation experience that he agreed. Later that day, Acton Smith pulled out his notebook and poured out ideas for the company. He had experienced firsthand how stressful life -- and business -- was in Western society, and he felt that for most people, the future skewed even more stressful. He remembers thinking: Instead of being in the entertainment industry -- here today, gone tomorrow -- what if we could build a brand that could outlast us and be here for centuries? Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing to dedicate the rest of our careers to? Over the next year or two, Tew and Acton Smith chatted via phone, found developers and started to build Calm as it is now -- guided meditation and programs for everyone, both beginner and advanced. By January 2016, Acton Smith finally felt ready to step away from Mind Candy. He found a new CEO to take over (though he maintains, to date, his role as chairman) and moved to San Francisco to dedicate himself completely to Calm. He and Tew, who had already been working full time on Calm, agreed to be co-CEOs and split the company equally, but at the time, revenue was touch-and-go -- and the company didn’t have much money banked.

The Breaking Point

During the first half of 2016, Acton Smith worried whether Calm would be able to “keep the lights on.” At the company’s lowest point, there were a few thousand dollars left in the bank. It didn’t help that potential investors kept giving them the boot. Acton Smith and Tew left dozens of pitch meetings with “no” ringing in their ears. “When that happens a few times, you can cope,” Acton Smith says. “When it happens dozens of times, it makes you question whether you’re on the right path and whether smart investors know more than you do.” Acton Smith heard through the grapevine that one investor had called Calm a “load of nonsense,” saying it was “never going to work.” He remembers another described the company as a “fluffy little meditation app.” Venture capitalists backed up their decisions with an investing idea championed by Warren Buffett -- the need for a “moat,” or an ability to maintain an advantage over competitors. Everyone seemed to think consumers could access the same services elsewhere for free -- that they wouldn’t pay for what Calm offered.

The Turnaround

After about six months, Acton Smith and Tew decided they had no choice but to make the business profitable. They kept the team size under 10, worked long hours in a one-bedroom apartment in San Francisco and sharply questioned every outgoing dollar. Acton Smith paid for many of Calm’s expenses on his personal credit card. By early 2016, Calm finally broke even.

Acton Smith and Calm co-founder Alex Tew Image credit: Calm Although the small team worked out of that one-bedroom apartment for the first year or so, it’s now grown to 40 employees -- and together, they begin each day with a 10-minute meditation. Acton Smith said he feels Calm is holding onto a rocket ship for dear life and that there’s much further to go. He projected Calm’s 2018 revenue to be $80 million -- a far cry from the tens of thousands he spent on his credit card during launch. In June, Calm raised $27 million in a Series A funding round -- pegging the company’s valuation at $250 million. “The mind doesn’t come with an instruction manual,” Acton Smith says. “This is … the closest thing I’ve found.” To date, 35 million people have downloaded Calm, but, he says, that’s less than 2 percent of the number of smartphones worldwide. Acton Smith says he aims to bring meditation to every single one.

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