Addicted to the Maze

I’m often surprised when I see people angry at the entire startup space. It looks like they tried to build something, but it didn’t work out, and now they resent the whole system. It makes me wonder, what exactly did they expect? That just because the media glorified a few 20-year-olds who "crushed it," success should come easily?

If only it were that simple. The truth is that no one owes you anything, and there are no easy paths to building something that lasts.

That line of thinking got me asking: what really drives people to build startups?

Some of the obvious motivations are:

Career desperation. Startups give an opening to people who didn’t have a head start in life, or feel stuck in their careers. I’ve written before about how startups are one of the last engines of social mobility. They offer steep learning curves, quick feedback loops, and a shot at reinvention, especially for those early in their careers. For people already deep into successful careers, the upside of that learning is often less beneficial.

Wealth. In some (rare) cases, a startup can generate life-changing, even generational, wealth. Earning $200,000 a year might be a good salary, but a decent exit can condense decades of earnings into just a few years. If your company sells and you walk away with $5M or $20M, that leapfrogs anything a typical career path can offer. This is, understandably, a major draw.

A problem that won’t let go. Some founders are driven by personal pain or an obsession with a specific problem. When you can’t sleep at night because of something you want to fix, a company often follows. These stories sometimes lead to powerful outcomes.

But one motivation that’s less talked about, yet just as powerful, is the intellectual thrill. Startups pull you to the edge of what’s possible. You’re often solving problems no one has solved before. And the more you taste that feeling, the more addictive it becomes.

That’s where the concept of the idea maze comes in.

The idea maze

The “idea maze” is a term you hear a lot in tech. It describes what building a startup actually feels like.

An idea maze implies a very exploratory journey. It's not linear, it's not just walking down a straight corridor from problem to solution. It's complex, multidimensional, and full of unknowns. It’s uncertain. A maze is filled with dead ends, false leads, unexpected monsters (metaphorically speaking), and occasionally hidden treasures. Navigating it effectively demands a lot of foresight, adaptability, and a deep understanding of the landscape.

Now, let’s compare this to a conventional business model, say, a restaurant. When you're opening a restaurant, your product (the food you serve), the business model (you sell food at a markup), and GTM (location, menu, local marketing) are all pretty clear-cut. You might pivot slightly, say you add delivery or adjust your menu, but these are relatively minor tweaks rather than fundamental shifts in your understanding of your business. You’re basically working with known variables in a very clearly defined game.

In contrast, a startup begins with more unknowns than knowns. Let’s think about why this is. At the root, startups are usually aiming at problems that aren't solved yet or aren't solved well. By definition, this means no clear template exists yet. You might have a hypothesis about the problem. But are you even solving the right problem? That’s a common early-stage question. SMEs typically pick a proven problem (people in this area need a good pizza place) and then deliver a known solution (open a pizza place). Startups, meanwhile, pick an uncertain problem (people want an entirely new way to experience entertainment at home) with solutions that might not exist yet or might depend on uncertain technological changes.

This introduces layers of uncertainty. First, you wonder if the problem is worth solving at scale. Second, you wonder who exactly is your target user? Maybe your first guess is wrong. Maybe it’s close but slightly off. Third, even if you get your target user right, what product actually solves the problem effectively? Is it easy to adopt? Does it require too much behavioral change? Fourth, assuming you have a good product, what's your GTM? How do you scale? What partnerships do you need? How do incumbents respond?

Consider Netflix in 1997. Back then, movies were rented physically at stores like Blockbuster. The initial Netflix idea was mail-order DVDs, not streaming. Think about that maze. Initially, mailing DVDs might have seemed crazy or overly niche. Would mail delivery be reliable enough? Would people really wait days instead of driving to Blockbuster? But Netflix anticipated multiple futures. They recognized that the physical distribution model had limitations, but importantly, they built optionality into their business model from day one. They envisioned a future where internet bandwidth improved. They imagined that streaming might eventually be viable, even if not immediately. They didn’t start as a pure streaming service because the infrastructure wasn't ready, but they positioned themselves strategically to move quickly once the infrastructure matured. That’s good maze walking.

Dropbox provides another good example. In 2007, cloud storage was not new. Lots of attempts were made, but many failed. Dropbox wasn't just another "me-too" storage solution, even though many saw it that way. They deeply understood past failures. They recognized the "pitfalls" in the maze: clunky UX, cumbersome file syncing, overly complex interfaces, and lack of integration across multiple devices. Dropbox anticipated the emergence of smartphones and recognized that mobile would drastically increase the need for seamless file syncing. They anticipated how Google, Microsoft, and Amazon might react and built something elegant enough that by the time the incumbents moved, Dropbox had already established a strong user base and reputation for simplicity. They navigated the maze by deeply internalizing previous attempts' lessons and foreseeing platform shifts.

Some problems in the maze are simply unsolvable at certain times. Webvan tried online grocery delivery too early. Logistics weren't there. Consumer trust wasn’t there. The tech was not ready. Fast forward a decade, and Instacart thrives because infrastructure, expectations, and tech have finally caught up. Same maze, different timing.

The maze as Arena

Thinking now about the difference between a good founder and a bad one in the idea maze analogy. A good founder anticipates turns, recognizes historical failures, and spots technological shifts. It’s not about luck (or not just luck) but rather about pattern recognition, foresight, and depth of understanding. A bad founder simply rushes into a maze without preparation or understanding, without a sense of history, without studying competitors and failed attempts. They might copy what looks promising superficially but will hit dead ends without the experience or knowledge to navigate around them.

Now, back to my initial point, the maze itself is a pull factor for certain people.

In fact, I would argue the maze is addictive. Why? Because the maze is inherently uncertain, inherently unpredictable. Humans, especially the driven and ambitious type, are paradoxically drawn to uncertainty. It doesn't feel good at the moment, it's quite the opposite. It can feel excruciating, frustrating, stressful, and even lonely. Yet, people keep coming back. Why is that?

Maybe it’s because humans are fundamentally problem-solving creatures. Solving problems triggers dopamine release. Our brains are biologically wired to reward us when we overcome obstacles. This reward mechanism makes sense evolutionarily. Early humans solving complex survival problems were rewarded biologically, keeping them motivated to continue tackling problems. Maybe, in a modern, safer environment, that primal drive manifests itself through intellectual and business challenges.

So, perhaps what makes the maze addictive is that it’s an intensified version of our inherent drive to solve problems.

Think about it. We are used to predictable systems like school or typical corporate careers. Why aren’t these equally addictive if we still solve problems there? Perhaps it's because the problems in traditional settings are generally predictable or incremental. In school, you study, you pass, you move up. At work, you follow the rules, you get promoted. These are steady systems with well-marked paths. The problems you solve are real but often incremental, rarely existential.

The startup maze is different. It’s full of uncertainty, ambiguity, and risk. You don't know if success is possible. There's no guarantee, no clear roadmap, no predetermined solutions. Each step forward is more ambiguous, uncertain, and risky. This uncertainty multiplies the emotional intensity of solving problems. When you succeed, the victory feels exponentially more satisfying precisely because failure was so genuinely possible, even likely.

Let's think about founders who go through startup mazes successfully. They often look back at their time in the maze as some of their "best years." This feels counterintuitive at first glance because those years were likely stressful, uncertain, sleepless, and risky. But maybe what makes these memories positive is precisely the intensity of the experience, the highs and lows, the emotional extremes, and the feeling of battling against the odds. Humans often romanticize the past once it's safely behind them, especially if it involves overcoming adversity.

I would go as far as to call the maze the "modern arena," albeit slightly exaggerated, I like that thought. It suggests something profound about human nature, this desire or even need for a modern proving ground. Throughout history, humans have always sought arenas to test themselves: war, athletics, exploration, and scientific breakthroughs. These arenas were places of significant risk, uncertainty, struggle, and the potential for glory. The startup world might be today’s equivalent, a modern, intellectual arena where one can test oneself in a socially acceptable (if still painful and risky) way.

Romanticizing the struggle

Now, what about those who fail in the maze? While successes are remembered fondly, failures are indeed possible, actually more common than most want to admit. Many founders fail repeatedly. Yet, surprisingly, they often still return to try again. Why return if failure hurts so much? Maybe because even the act of daring, trying, and failing in an uncertain maze offers something emotionally valuable, identity, courage, meaning, lessons learned. Perhaps it’s better to have dared and failed than never to have entered the arena at all. Failure in a challenging maze can still provide powerful emotional rewards, pride in having tried something ambitious, self-awareness gained from reflecting on failure, and a sense of having fully lived.

Am I romanticizing this too much? Is it possible we’re glorifying something painful and potentially damaging? Startups can indeed break people emotionally and financially. Perhaps the maze isn’t always noble. It can also be destructive, leading to burnout, stress, depression, lost savings, and broken relationships. Perhaps the addictive nature of the maze isn’t universally positive but reflects something risky, akin to gambling or addiction.

Yet, even acknowledging these potential negative aspects, I still think there’s truth in looking fondly at the maze and thinking of it as a major reason people are pulled to startups. These individuals feel bored, unfulfilled, or constrained by predictable environments. For them, the maze offers purpose, a meaningful narrative of struggle and triumph, and a profound sense of being alive.

Final thought

The startup maze is addictive because it offers emotional rewards you can’t get in safer environments. It satisfies something primal, a need to struggle meaningfully, to fight uncertainty, to push forward without a map.

And maybe, at the end of the day, what draws smart, ambitious people to startups isn’t just the money or the mission but the arena itself. The chance to go through the maze, with all its monsters and turns, and see what they’re really made of.