Sebastian Gensior

There’s a particular kind of founder bravado—equal parts necessity and ego—that leads you to believe you can do everything yourself. You’ll write the pitch deck. You’ll tweak the logo. You’ll manage the website backend, negotiate the venue for your next event, and fix the

There comes a point in many startups where the founder stops being the force that propels the company forward—and starts becoming the gravitational center that holds it back. It’s not always dramatic. No botched product launch, no term sheet collapse. Just a growing awareness that the skills required

Founders are trained—sometimes explicitly, sometimes by osmosis—to believe that product comes first. Build something useful. Validate it. Ship it. Then, if you’re lucky, people will come. But what if that’s backwards? In 2025, with attention more fragmented than ever and distribution now the primary bottleneck, the

For all its lofty promises of curing diseases and saving lives, biotech has a people problem. The industry that brought us CRISPR and mRNA vaccines can’t seem to hold onto the very talent that drives its breakthroughs. Academic inertia, the lure of fat tech paychecks, and an outdated work

The Acquihire: Congratulations, You’re Employed Again Startups, we are told, end in one of two ways: triumphant IPO or cautionary tale. But in the murky middle lies a quieter, more frequent outcome: the acquihire. It sounds like a win—your company got acquired! But read the term again. You

There’s a certain thrill when you land your first big client. A marquee name. Seven figures. Real validation. You tell the team. You update the pitch deck. You slap their logo on your homepage as if it's your own. For a moment, you believe: this changes everything.

There are two types of pivots in startup life: the accidental kind, and the one you actually plan. The former is more common. Something’s not working—funding dries up, users vanish, a competitor eats your lunch—and you find yourself scrambling, rewriting your deck at 2 a.m., hoping

Picture this: a young biotech founder in Boston is pitching their company to a room full of investors. The founder explains how their groundbreaking therapy could cure a devastating disease, and before the end of the meeting, they’ve secured millions in funding. Across the Atlantic, in Berlin, another founder

Startups rarely die all at once. They erode. Slowly. Through investor no’s, staff attrition, product-market ambiguity, and the general entropy of modern work. And in these long grey in-between phases—when the excitement is gone but the obligations remain—motivation becomes less about passion and more about discipline. Or

Founders are usually excellent at preparing for success. They build spreadsheets full of upside scenarios, draw hockey-stick revenue projections with understated confidence, and design pitch decks that glide over risks like a politician avoiding hard questions. What they are less prepared for—what few accelerators, advisors, or glossy startup handbooks