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I did this analysis last year and it became a popular post, so I figured I’d do the same retrospective today. Following are the ten most-read Kellblog posts in 2025, regardless of the year in which they were written — and it includes some golden oldies.
What it really means to be a manager, director, VP (2015). Now at ten years old, this post is a perennial favorite. I wrote it because I got tired of answering the question and something about my answer clearly struck a note with a lot of people. (Hint: the answer’s not in your job leveling system.)
How to navigate the pipeline crisis (2025). In this post I wrote about what I saw as a general pipeline crisis in the industry, shared some interesting posts on it, and then tried to put myself back in the CMO chair and answer: what would I do about it?
The one key to dealing with senior executives: answer the question! (2012). If the manager vs. director post (above) gets the most traffic, this post gets the most in-person mentions. Think: “Dave, I forwarded your ATFQ post about a dozen times this year.” This issue bothered me 13 years ago when I wrote the post and evidently non-answered questions are still bothering people today. If someone, particularly a customer or an executive, asks you a question: answer it.
Kellblog predictions for 2025 (2025). I scored these an 8 out of 10. Go here to read my predictions for 2026, the 12th annual post in this series. These posts are more industry commentary and analysis than simply a list of things I think are going to happen. And they require Herculean effort. This year’s post was 7,644 words with 166 links and took 65 hours to write.
Your ICP starts as an aspiration and ends as a regression (2025). I love the pithy title of this one. This post discusses the evolution of your ideal customer profile (ICP) which starts out as a wink in the founder’s eye and should, over time, end up the result of a regression analysis. That is, you start out by deciding who you want to focus on and then, over time and as a function of your definition of “success,” the data should tell you.
The SaaS Rule of 40 (2017). Another classic, from eight years back. See this year’s predictions to understand why I believe the Rule of 40 might well become the Rule of 60 in 2026.
A CEO’s high-level guide to GTM troubleshooting (2025). An integration and repackaging of a lot of my advice specifically written for the CEO and to help them troubleshoot their go-to-market (GTM) issues. I was happy to see this one up here.
Six tips on presenting to the board of directors (2025). A post I wrote to help executive staff make a good impression on the board by losing any prior board PTSD, making a deck from scratch (not recycling slides), cutting to the chase, taking certain things offline, and of course ATFQ.
Technically, my Best of Kellogg post also made the list, so if you’ve not checked that out lately, perhaps you should. I’ve recently revised it as I do about once a year.
I was happy to see that five of the ten top posts were from 2025, which I think hits the right balance of healthy re-use of the classics along with some endorsement of my new material. Thanks for reading.
Today, we continue my annual tradition of making ten predictions for the coming year while reviewing my ten predictions for the prior one.
As always, I’ll remind you of some disclaimers: (a) don’t view this as investment advice or anything resembling it, (b) while I generally avoid politics on my blog, I make an exception in these posts because I like to start macro and then zoom in, (c) remember that I do this for fun and entertainment, so please take it as such, and (d) my self-scoring for the previous year is always generous [1].
This is my twelfth annual predictions post. Let’s begin.
Review of 2025 Predictions
1. America gets what we deserve. Hit. I predicted a more brazen, more interest conflicted, and less constrained Trump — and scored a hat trick. The more interesting question today, given that Trump has increasingly diverged from his official platform (if less so from his unofficial one), is whether people are getting what they think they voted for and if they are happy with the results? Some visible MAGA types, from MTG to the QAnon Shaman, are saying no. Either way, we voted for Trump and we got him. I believe that will one day serve as an enduring reminder that character matters in leader selection.
2. The broligarchs enjoy their 15 minutes of fame. Hit. I almost scored this a miss because some of the tech bros have enjoyed more than their 15 minutes. But I’ll credit myself with the hit because Elon Musk was the poster child for this group and, with the DOGE fiasco, he exemplified what I was predicting.
Many Silicon Valley leaders appear to have aligned themselves around four priorities: (a) a more favorable exit environment, including a revival of big-tech M&A after an FTC posture that had largely stymied it; (b) crypto, which — despite substantial effort to convince myself otherwise — I continue to view as suspect [2]; (c) a light-touch regulatory framework for AI; and (d) pro-growth energy policy, given AI’s heavy dependence on power.
I foresaw much of this thanks to this December 2023 quote from Ben Horowitz [3]:
We are non-Partisan, one issue voters: If a candidate supports an optimistic technology-enabled future, we are for them. If they want to choke off important technologies, we are against them.
Thus far, the administration has largely delivered, so the digerati may well feel vindicated, though I could do without the sane-washing [4]. In the coming year, we will learn more about precisely what they traded in this Faustian bargain.
3. The startup ecosystem purge continues. Hit. I got lucky here because I meant to say “accelerates,” but wrote “continues” — which is more indicative of what happened. In 2023, 769 startups shut down; in 2024, that figure rose to 966; and Carta’s commentary suggests the 2025 total will fall between 1,000 and 1,100. Interestingly, per SimpleClosure, startups shut down later in their lifecycle compared to 2024 [5].
But an ecosystem purge is also about M&A, not just shutdowns. Per Berkery Noyes, 2025 M&A volume was up 66% from $253B to $420B, with deal count up 8% from 1,992 to 2,152.
The point was that many startups were going to hunker down in 2025, extending cash runways to buy time until the return of a healthier exit environment. That return did not happen in 2025, so many of them will need to keep hunkering. Exit multiples were flat to down in 2025, though I am hopeful they will bounce up in 2026.
4. Attention is the new oil. Hit. This one is an accidental double entendre because of the popularization of LLMs (enabled by the transformer architecture published in the famous 2017 paper Attention Is All You Need). But my intent here was not to talk about transformers but communications, inspired by Chris Hayes’ book, The Sirens’ Call.
Anyone who’s lived with addictive, dopamine-fueled doomscrolling (i.e., anyone who’s ever used social media) knows that this is true. It’s a clickbait world, often a “rage bait” one (Oxford’s 2025 word of the year), and we have enormous trouble resisting. Click here to learn the nine ways to use clickbait tactics in your marketing strategy [6].
The point of this prediction was to say that we’re leaving the age of information and entering the age of attention. Information used to be scarce. That drove content marketing strategies and the use of gated assets to drive leads. But a few things changed:
The algorithms have taken over social media to the point where the word “follow” is meaningless. It’s no longer enough to have a large follower count; you need to write posts that the algorithm likes or no one will see them [7].
Thanks to AI, content generation has become free. Whereas information was once scarce, information is now plentiful and cheap. Unfortunately, it’s often AI slop.
Thus, the challenge is no longer producing and optimizing gated assets, but instead trying to break through the noise with your point of view.
All while the gatekeepers are changing from search engines to generative AI engines, requiring new and different optimization strategies.
There are two strategies in this environment: (a) play the game by fighting for attention in the media and on social platforms [8] and (b) build your own audience via newsletters, podcasts, blogs, and educational content. Companies should do both, subject to the constraint of not playing the game so well that you damage your credibility. Trust matters. See prediction six for 2026.
5. The worldwide web, as we knew it, is dead. Hit. The Economist called this one for me.
Here’s what they had to say:
Artificial intelligence is transforming the way that people navigate the web. As users pose their queries to chatbots rather than conventional search engines, they are given answers, rather than links to follow. The result is that “content” publishers, from news providers and online forums to reference sites such as Wikipedia, are seeing alarming drops in their traffic.
As AI changes how people browse, it is altering the economic bargain at the heart of the internet. Human traffic has long been monetized using online advertising; now that traffic is drying up. Content producers are urgently trying to find new ways to make AI companies pay them for information. If they cannot, the open web may evolve into something very different.
There’s no better example of the effects of AI front-running on web traffic than Stack Overflow (chart posted by a top-ten, all-time contributor) as you can read about in this post by Gergely Orosz.
6. Working for the algo. Hit. This was a contrarian prediction inspired by an odd fact. The Turing test asked whether a computer could convince a human that it was human. Today we’re living through the inverse: humans increasingly have to convince computers that we are human. If that sounds strange, think about CAPTCHAs — every time you solve one, that’s exactly what you’re doing.
More generally, “working for the algo” means we are working to please an algorithm as opposed to it working to please you. Every time you optimize a social media post to drive amplification. Every time you jiggle your mouse to show you are still working from home. Every time an Amazon driver pees in a bottle. Every time you two-factor authenticate to prove that you are you. Every time you change a web page for SEO or AEO. Every time you modify your spending behavior to boost your credit score. Every time you do any of these things, you are working for the algo.
7. The death of SaaS is greatly exaggerated. Partial. This prediction was playing off two things: (a) a popular rant by Satya Nadella about how SaaS apps were just UIs atop a CRUD database, and (b) the widely-distributed September, 2024 story of Klarna’s plans to replace Salesforce with in-house AI applications.
Since then, the storm around the Satya rant quieted quickly and the Klarna CEO went on record saying he was terribly embarrassed about the whole situation.
While the reality is that enterprise software platforms are very hard to extract (“you inject them into your corporate veins” as my friend Paul Wiefels likes to say) and ergo at relatively low risk from generative AI replacement, there are nevertheless seeds of truth in the “death of SaaS” argument.
It doesn’t start with ripping out Salesforce or Workday. It starts with a huge variety of new applications focused either functionally (e.g., Vic.ai in accounts payable [9]) or vertically (e.g., EvenUp in personal injury law), continues into enterprise AI application platforms such as Writer [10] and Glean, and a new generation of low-code / no-code tools for building bespoke applications from the red-hot vibe coding companies (e.g., Lovable, Replit) to new offerings from established enterprise vendors like OutSytems [11].
SaaS is sick, but it isn’t dying. Though, if you’re not actively incorporating AI into your traditional SaaS product as your top product priority, then your company might be. My most-viewed article of the year was the newsletter I wrote for Topline broadly on this topic.
8. An unlikely revival of branding. Hit. “Brand versus demand” was the marketing watch-phrase of 2025. Brand is not only gaining relative steam in this dichotomy, but marketers would like it to gain even more.
The idea is simple: as traditional demandgen and “performance marketing” channels become more expensive and less effective, marketers increasingly want to allocate budget to more brand-oriented programs. I think this is a good idea because (a) brand and demand spend feed each other (you’re more likely to register for a webinar from a company that you know) and (b) over the past five years we, as an industry, have over-rotated to highly measurable marketing into a myopic position where boards and CEOs are now reluctant to invest unless you can “show me the money” quickly and directly. But that’s not how marketing works. It’s not how people work. And while measuring brand program effectiveness requires stepping outside the world of traditional CRM reporting, it is by no means impossible. That said, brand measurement is something of a lost art that marketers will need to relearn in 2026. (For listeners of The Metrics Brothers, Ray and I are scheduling an episode on this topic for early in the year.)
9. PR is the new SEO. Miss. While I think people would acknowledge the underlying point – that great PR hits can have a strong positive effect on answer engine inclusion — I don’t think this realization sparked the PR renaissance that I was hoping for in 2025. First, because few companies can generate such a hit regardless of their PR investment – i.e., even a great PR flack needs an articulate and charismatic founder, a product with demonstrable customer impact and momentum, and a story that maps pretty directly to mainstream business. Hypergrowth and an enormous fundraising round don’t hurt either.
More importantly, it’s because PR has changed. It’s a lot more trench warfare across dozens of bloggers, podcasters, and influencers than it is swinging for home run stories. If any spending shot up in 2025 it was on lobbying, not public relations. Though the two fields are less far apart than one may think.
But no sane marketer is going to propose a big PR budget in order to boost their AEO program; there are so many other things they can do first. So, hopefully that was thought-provoking. But a miss.
10. LinkedIn enters the social media death cycle. Partial. Followers will know I’ve been trying to manifest LinkedIn improvement because I’ve had troubles remaining on X. And this prediction was kind of a caution, an anti-manifestation (as if anyone was listening) to say if LinkedIn doesn’t get better, it might get a lot worse. But neither happened. It didn’t get better, but it didn’t really get worse. It’s still the same vanilla, namby-pamby, excessively self-promoting content as it was in 2024. But I do see an increasing number of posts from second-hand recyclers of ideas. Think: “Steve Jobs said this” or “Revolut did that ” from people who were not first-hand involved in the company or its story. Which, when they are, is the ultimate cool thing about social media. So, while I think LinkedIn has thus far avoided enshittification and the social media death cycle, it’s still a site that I’m rarely excited to visit.
So, an 8 out of 10, overall. Let’s move on to the coming year.
Predictions 2026
1. Trump, but even more so. With checks and balances significantly weakened, expect an even less constrained Trump presidency. His leadership and communication style — modeled more off a 1970s mafia Don than a democratic statesman — will likely become even more pronounced. That means more indecency, corruption, lip service to the rule of law, revisionism, power plays, and “Donroe” doctrine foreign policy. Given his age and health, Trump may view 2026 as a culminating chapter, raising the odds of bolder, riskier moves aimed at both leaving his mark and cementing his legacy.
Speaking of legacy, prediction market Kalshi currently assigns a 16% chance that Trump leaves office in 2026 [12]. Thus, the possibility of a Vance presidency is becoming more plausible — if not in 2026, then perhaps in 2027. Maybe, among other things, we’ll learn to stop electing septuagenarians.
Meantime, if you’re interested in learning how people can perceive reality so differently, try reading Good Reasonable People by Keith Payne. It’s insightful, if not particularly optimistic.
“I second that emotion.”
2. It’s a bubble, but this time it’s different. Make no mistake, today’s AI market has many of the hallmarks of a classic bubble (e.g., technology catalyst, euphoria, high valuations, debt accumulation). And, of course, part of the euphoria is everyone saying it isn’t a bubble (i.e., “this time is different”).
But I think there are some key differences between today’s situation and the Internet bubble that will affect how this one unwinds. Usually bubbles pop; I think this one is going to leak – i.e., the deflation will run in slow motion relative to traditional bubbles. Why? Three things: (a) this is a private market bubble where most of the players are not public companies, (b) everything happens in slow motion in VC/PE land where funds last a decade and trading (i.e., valuation determination) is infrequent, and (c) there is opacity in the private markets that can make it hard or impossible to see when the bubble is deflating.
For example, consider a native-AI company growing at 200% that recently raised money at 50x $20M in ARR, so a $1B valuation. Now, let’s say growth slows well below 100%, but they grind it for 2-3 years to double revenues. For a flat round, they’d need a 25x valuation, but with things deteriorating that’s not going to happen. So, how can you obscure a down-round if you want to? Structure. You can put a 2x liquidation preference on the new money to preserve the headline $1B valuation, but ceteris aren’t paribus. This is a down-round in a wig and lipstick. But since terms are not disclosed, the world will basically never know. And multiple liquidation preferences are just one type of structure you can use in this situation.
This can’t happen when companies are public. Thus, I believe that private bubbles end differently than public ones. They deflate, as opposed to pop. The process happens more slowly and with less hysteria. But it happens. Some will argue it’s already happened to the last generation of SaaS unicorns. In 2026, it will start to happen to many of the AI ones, including a few of the big ones.
3. IPOs are back, baby. Many folks thought 2025 would be a banner year for tech IPOs but, while they did increase over 2024, the damn didn’t break open due to tariff shock in the spring and the government shutdown in the fall.
I think 2026 will see a big uptick relative to 2025, both in the number of transactions and the deal sizes. Why? First, because there is a backlog of amazing companies waiting in line. Second, because while companies can stay private longer – sometimes indefinitely – that’s becoming the luxury of the ultra-elite firms, so all the merely elite ones will still need to go public at some point to get proper liquidity. Third, because a better exit environment is one of the top priorities Trump-supporting VCs wanted, and I believe both Sand Hill Road and Wall Street will apply significant pressure to get what they bargained for. Finally, because there is a liquidity crisis in parts of VC/PE and if the public markets can successfully absorb the elite companies, then lower-tier companies will be in a hurry to go public while the IPO window remains open.
And that’s not to mention the potential gale-force tailwind if the administration ends up setting interest rates — at least before the subsequent sugar high would likely lead to 1970s-level inflation.
4. AI takes jobs, but not as we think. There’s no doubt that AI will replace jobs and plenty of them. The questions are (a) will they be missed and (b) will it drive folks up or out?
I don’t think anyone misses elevator operators, a job that peaked in the 1950s and all but extinct today.
The same is true of switchboard operators, pin setters, lamplighters, linotype setters, icemen, typists, shorthand secretaries, and slubber doffers. Yet, all these jobs were automated away. While I’m sure transition was rough for any given elevator operator, as a society we don’t miss them. Most coal miners work hard so their children won’t have to be coal miners.
Let’s remember where the word luddite comes from. Today, we use the word to describe people opposed to new technology. But the Luddites were part of a labor movement; they didn’t destroy machines because they were technophobes, they destroyed them to protect jobs. So, the transitions can be rough – and come with social unrest — when jobs are automated away. But we still don’t miss the jobs they fought for.
And sometimes, when we think a job is going to be automated away, we get it wrong. In 2016, the godfather of AI, Geoffrey Hinton, said that we should stop training new radiologists because AI could read images better than people. And he was right. AI has outperformed people for nearly a decade at image reading. But today we have more radiologists than ever, with an average salary of $520K. It turns out that reading images isn’t all that radiologists do.
This is an example of AI driving a job up, not out. But this doesn’t always happen, either. I watched Jensen Huang trying to apply this exact argument to Uber drivers [13]. Let’s just say that it didn’t work [14]. For some jobs, such as drivers, they just drive. Those jobs are more driven out than up.
So, are we all condemned to become unthinking LLeMmings? I’m not as negative as the “we won’t be missed” crowd (thoughtful rebuttal here). Nor do I believe that the path to AGI is through LLMs. But, with admittedly little background in the space, I am nevertheless drawn to the idea of world models, which act as state prediction machines as opposed to word prediction machines.
In short, AI will displace a lot of jobs, but many will be pushed up, not out. While the transition costs will be painful for those affected, society overall will benefit. In the end, a lot of bygone jobs won’t be missed. And I’m quite optimistic about our ability to make interesting, new ones.
5. The polymaths aren’t polymathing. Since money isn’t the flex it used to be in Silicon Valley, something was bound to replace it. Now you can’t just be well educated, you can’t just be rich. You can’t just be smart about technology. You need something more. You need to be smart about everything. That is, you need to be a polymath.
So, the first part of this prediction is simple: I think being a polymath will be the ultimate flex in Silicon Valley in 2026 and thus we’ll see an increasing number of people working to attain, and demonstrating the flex of, polymath status. If you want to join the wave, start by reading these lists of books recommended by Marc Andreessen. There’s some great stuff in there.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for well-rounded individuals who don’t specialize too early and end up one-dimensional as a result. Many of my friends are super interesting because, in addition to high proficiency in tech, they’re students of business, languages, philosophy, or history. This is all cool. Great stuff.
What’s less cool is when Silicon Valley leaders decide that they are smarter than everybody about everything. Sure, in the spirit of the bear joke, you might be smarter about history than the other MIT engineer, but are you smarter than the person whose lifelong passion is history? Do you know more about international relations than the person who went to SAIS and then to the state department? Do you know more about improving government efficiency than people who’ve spent their entire careers working in government?
Moreover, were the people who built the data structure behind tweets the best people to predict the societal impact of Twitter? Are the people who build GPUs or foundation models really the best people to predict the societal impact of AI? We tend to confuse the ability to build something with being in the best position to understand its impact. Oppenheimer knew how to build the bomb, but later said, quoting the Bhagavad Gita, “now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.” If you want to know how to build a bomb, ask a physicist. If you want to know its impact, ask a general.
Finally, there’s a difference between being well rounded and being a dilettante. When the new Silicon Valley overlords – whose primary competency is making money by creating technology businesses [15] [16] – start thinking they should be in charge of government and society, blind to their own ambitions and agendas, we’re going to get more messes (e.g., DOGE), more inanestatements, and more crazy interviews. The reputation of Silicon Valley will continue to suffer and eventually – probably in 2027 or 2028 – we’ll see backlash-driven policies that actually hurt the ecosystem. As bizarre as the Thiel interview was (and as hilarious its parodies), if you wanted to drum up popular support for a billionaire tax, it’s hard to find a better tool.
If they were really dialed in, the new overlords would take a lesson from the robber barons, such as Andrew Carnegie — and build libraries and write essays like The Gospel of Wealth. They’d also take fewer dubious actions and obviously self-interested policy positions.
6. Trust is the antidote. Across a web of AI-generated, algorithm-juiced content, people don’t know who they can trust anymore. What news can they trust? What companies can they believe?
Can they trust the answers to seemingly basic questions, like “how much does this hotel cost?” Ah, the mandatory resort fee. Or “how much does this ticket cost?” Ah, convenience fees or seat-reservation fees. And, with generative AI, can they even trust what they see with their own eyes? Was that video real? How about this photo?
People can’t trust the algorithms to show them content they want to read. Slide into the wrong thread and X instantly turns into a bot-driven cesspool of ad hominem attacks. LinkedIn has become a tedious sea of corporate news, thinly-veiled pitches, humblebrags, and ghost-written content. Reviews sites, despite consumer protection rules, are often gamed.
Soon, if not already, we’ll be using AI both to generate and summarize our communications. And, as Scott Brinker says in his predictions, “AI inbox gatekeepers will turn email marketing into earned media.” Ponder that for a second.
So, what’s a marketer to do? One thing. Focus on trust. Only trust will get people to open your emails. Only trust will get them to sign up for your newsletters and subscribe to your podcasts. Only trust will allow them to believe the reviews and testimonials about your product. Only trust will get them to listen to what you have to say.
Trust that you produce great content. Trust that you won’t lie to them. Trust that you won’t waste their time. Trust that you won’t sell their contact information to someone else. Trust that you won’t speedbag them with SDR calls. Trust that if someone unsubscribes, you’ll stop. Trust that your product does what the marketing says it does. Trust that customers get the outcomes you promise.
I’ve always felt that branding was simply about trust. Trust that you’ll be you [17]. Trust that you’ll look like you (visual). Trust that you’ll sound like you (voice). Trust that you’ll act like you (values, operating principles). Trust in your mission (vision).
It’s funny. The further we got into the Internet era the more we heard that people didn’t have time anymore. And that long-form content was dead. So, everything needed to be bite-sized morsels. There’s no time. Make it shorter. Make it a short video. Make it an infographic.
You know when people don’t have time for your content? When it’s bad. And there’s so much bad content out there that we started to believe that lazy people were the problem. No, they aren’t. Bad content is the problem. And now it’s easier than ever to generate it. So, do we win the war by out-slopping our competition? Or do we try something else?
You know when people do have time for your content? When it’s good and they’re interested in the subject (you know, like when people are betting a part of their career on your software package). Ask the guys at Acquired and observe evolution of their average episode length:
Season 1: ~45 minutes.
Seasons 2–4: ~1 hour 15 minutes.
Seasons 5–8: ~2 hours 30 minutes.
Seasons 9–11: ~3 hours 30 minutes.
Seasons 12–14: ~4 hours+
There is literally no better example that when people are interested and you produce good content, that they will make the time for it. I liked the three-hour episode on Costco so much, I listened to it twice.
So, overall, what would I do? Make good content. Make long content, get rid of artificial and outdated best practices and constraints. Take the time to tell the story you need to tell. Build your own (“first party”) audience. Get access to, and respect the rules of, private communities (e.g., The SaaS CFO, Exit5) that are increasingly forming to provide trusted spaces.
And don’t be afraid to place marketing chips on brand over demand in 2026.
7. Fee culture changes VC. As with several of my predictions, this one is already in progress, but I do see it accelerating in 2026. The trend in VC is towards increasingly larger funds, e.g., a16z’s recent announcement of over $15B across about six funds, representing 18% of all VC dollars raised in the USA in 2025. (Read The Metamorphosis of a16z for a fascinating, if somewhat conspiratorial, take.)
While many smart people are writing about how VC is changing in terms of expected outcomes, fundperformance, concentration, kingmaking (and how founders can deal with it), risk, value creation, and scalability, there’s one thing that few people are talking about: fee culture, which is enabled by these ever-increasing fund sizes.
Back in the day, using several assumptions [18], a successful VC running four funds in parallel could make around $3M/year in fee income. With that, they could live a very comfortable Silicon Valley life: a house in Atherton, a place in Tahoe, tuition at the Menlo School, and all the rest. But to get really rich – fly your PJ to your Montana ranch rich – then you needed carry.
What’s carry? The second half of the 2 and 20 fee structure common in VC. The 2% is the annual fee on committed capital. The 20% is the carry, or cut, that VCs take after the fund returns its initial capital to investors. For example, if a $250M fund returns 3x to investors, the VCs would make $100M in carry (20% of $500M) over the fund’s roughly ten-year lifecycle [19]. Split that $100M across five general partners, and after one fund you’ve got the Montana ranch and, after another, the PJ to fly to it [20].
But 2% of a huge number is a huge number. So today, with a $5B fund, a VC can make more money off fees alone than they previously made off fees and carry [21]. By my rough math, more than double. On top of this, the carry, split across 15 GPs, would be $133M each [22].
While I’ve spent my career in and around VC-backed startups, I don’t consider myself an expert on VC, per se. But I think this new mega-fund reality changes things. Remember the Charlie Munger quote: “Show me the incentive and I’ll show you the outcome.”
While today’s mega-fund VCs are certainly incented to earn the aforementioned “substantial” amount of carry, they can live better — on fees alone — than the VCs of yore did on total compensation.
Satirist “PE guy” has a substantial following.
So, what do I think this means?
People managing large amounts of money need to deploy it. You can’t raise $5B, collect $100M/year in fees, and then not invest the money.
They will generally prefer to deploy it in bigger chunks. It’s easier to deploy $5B with $250M to $500M checks than $25M to $50M. It’s the difference between 20 investments and 200 investments. There’s a fixed cost – and a relatively high one – in pre-investment diligence and investment commitment presentations.
Kingmaking should increase. If I’m sure, for whatever reason, that founder X will be the winner, I can load them up with money to help ensure that outcome happens. While more VC gets deployed, it ends up being a have and have-not financing environment.
There will be a temptation to “foie gras” startups. Unlike the geese, this requires founders as willing accomplices, but if you follow the simple rule of “raise money when you can on good terms,” most will say yes. Hopefully they then won’t piss it away, which is how you get in real trouble.
This should create a damn-the-torpedoes attitude. If you need to deploy $5B in order to make $20M/year in fee income, then I’m pretty sure you’re going to find a way to do so. Moreover, the game becomes “tails I win big, heads I win five times bigger,” then who doesn’t want to play? Put differently, it’s not hard to be a techno-optimist when your firm is collecting $300M/year in fee income off your last $15B round of funds. Heck, I’d be one, too.
Mega-VCs will become more investors and less business partners. I remember when Sequoia’s tagline was “the entrepreneurs behind the entrepreneurs.” Around that time, I also remember being shocked – and this is going to sound incredibly stupid – when I heard someone refer to VC as part of “financial services.” “What? VCs aren’t Wall Street types,” I thought. “They’re tech people.” Of course, I was wrong at the time, but part of me nevertheless continues to see this as “the financialization of VC,” or more aptly perhaps, “the PE-ization of VC.”
8. A growth retention apocalypse. I’ll start this one with an excerpt from The Grapes of Wrath.
Then the grapes [ripen] – we can’t make good wine. People can’t buy good wine. Rip the grapes from the vines, good grapes, rotten grapes, wasp-stung grapes. Press stems, press dirt and rot.
But there’s mildew and formic acid in the vats.
Add Sulphur and tannic acid.
The smell from the ferment is not the rich odor of wine, but the smell of decay and chemicals.
That’s the way I feel about ARR today. Press trials. Press onboarding. Press professional services. Press overages and hardware. Take anything, multiply it by 12 and then press that. The smell from the ferment is not the oh-so-sweet smell of annual recurring revenue, but that of bygone customers, tire kickers, experiments, and decay.
In other words, I see what Cassie Young calls a growth retention apocalypse. I think we should measure it with a metric that I call retention spread.
Retention spread = NRR – GRR
That is, the gap, in percentage points, between NRR and GRR [23]. When the apocalypse hits, you might see it in NRR alone, but to the extent that spectacular growth can hide heinous retention, you might not. That’s why we need to look at retention spread [24].
9. Context graphs storm the market. Sing with me: “on the negative-third day of Christmas, my X feed sent to me: a billion posts on so-called context graphs.”
The first post I saw was this paper by Jaya Gupta and Ashu Garg of Foundation Capital. I’ve rarely seen any enterprise idea hit harder, take off faster, and get more engagement. Over the next few days, here are some of folks who joined the conversation: Dharmesh Shah (Hubspot) Aaron Levie (Box), Nick Mehta (Gainsight emeritus), Arvind Jain (Glean), Satyen Sangani (Alation), Anshu Sharma (Skyflow), Colin Treseler (Supernormal, Radiant), Animesh Koratana (PlayerZero), Diego Lomanto (Writer CMO, who made a particularly compelling case for marketing), Kirk Marple (Graphlit), Anshul Gupta (Actively, and whose sister was a co-author of the original article), and Tony Seale (The Knowledge Graph Guy).
This is not a new academic paper from a research lab, but an article from a VC firm on what they see as a trillion dollar opportunity. Why did it resonate?
First, they either got profoundly lucky or did a very well-coordinated launch that leveraged their considerable social network [25]. Or perhaps a bit of both.
It hits on a sensitive issue within the enterprise: the predicted imminent death of systems of record made by AI zealots who may understand AI well, but who lack an understanding of the enterprise. Even if you believe in an upcoming wave of AI agents – as I do – the question remains: where will “the truth” live in enterprise systems?
It raises the critical, and often forgotten, question of context. Not just the current state (which operational systems capture) and not just historical states (which data warehouses and analytic infrastructure capture), but the context for why it happened, which they individually call decision traces, whose accumulation results in a context graph.
As someone who started in operating systems and then moved into databases, I had to be dragged into caring about context. That’s not what we do here. We store stuff. We index it. We back it up. We ensure ACID transactions. We let you query it in flexible ways. But: How did it get here? Where did it come from? What does it mean?
As the Tom Lehrer lyric goes: “Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down? ‘That’s not my department!’ says Wernher von Braun.”
But data warehouses taught me to care about technical and operational metadata. Data catalogs taught me to care about governance, collaboration, and quality metadata. Over time, I became a true believer in context around data [26]. Thirty years in business taught me to care about business metadata. Stuff that, until recently, most of us only dreamed of keeping in systems.
Ultimately, what’s exciting is that this is much more than just replacing existing systems or building value-added layers atop them. It’s about capturing a category of information – knowledge – in enterprise systems that has, for the past 5 decades, generally eluded us in all but the most specialized systems. That’s big. In the 1980s, I got to watch the industry transform by capturing data.
Now, I’m going to watch the sequel by capturing knowledge [27], not just in the sense of documents and text, but process [28]. Remember the old Lew Platt quote: “if HP knew what HP knows, we’d be three times more productive.”
I know that context graphs hit hard over the holidays. Will we still be talking about them next Christmas or will they set a new record for hype cycle traversal? I think the former.
10. The Rule of 60 replaces the Rule of 40 for traditional SaaS. As industries mature, so do their financial metrics.
And their multiples change. Consider this tweet: “looks like we’re paying 5x sales for software. Mr. Valentine has set the price.”
Let’s observe that 5x sales with 33% EBITDA margins means 15x EBITDA, which by PE standards is a healthy multiple for a software company. Also remember that 5x is about twice the average price/sales ratio of the S&P 500. So, software companies are still well valued; just not as well valued as they were before.
The Rule of 40 is a SaaS metric that was created to be a better predictor of a company’s enterprise value to revenue (EV/R) multiple than growth or EBITDA alone. The intent, coming off a growth-crazed period, was that the best companies should balance growth and profit. Hence the Rule of 40 was generally calculated as [29]:
Year later, Bessemer came along and correctly argued that a point of growth should be worth more than a point of profit, and created the unfortunately-named “Rule of X” which put a slow-varying multiple on growth relative to profit, typically around 2.3x. Years before, and less visibly, the Software Equity Group had created a 2x growth-weighted Rule of 40 which did roughly the same thing.
But today’s debate is not about growth weighting. It’s about the proper score. Increasingly you hear people, particularly in PE, say that are now pushing towards a Rule of 40 score of 60, or in their parlance, a Rule of 60.
Let’s look at a spreadsheet that compares two companies. They both start out in Year 1 at the same size with the same Rule of 40 (R40) score of 40, composed of (20%, 20%) [30]. The first company remains at (20%, 20%) while the second evolves from (20%, 20%) to (15%, 45%) over the four-year period. Let’s see what happens to valuation.
Over the four years, the first company ends up valued at $518M on a 15x FCF basis and $864M on a 5x sales basis. Since there’s a question whether either of those companies would get valued on a revenue multiple — which is usually associated with higher growth — let’s look primarily at the FCF multiples. The second company ends up worth $1.03B based on 15x FCF, whereas the first one ends up worth only about half that at $518M. Since PE investors usually see profit as “more of sure thing” (i.e., “more within management’s control”) than growth, I think the vast majority would push to become the company on the right.
And most do. Hence, why I predict – particularly in the traditional SaaS, non-native-AI part of the market – that most companies will be shooting for R40 scores of between 40 and 60 in 2026. The Rule of 40 is dead! Long live the Rule of 60!
(That is, unless you’re a native AI startup and growing like a weed.)
Conclusion
If you’ve read all the way through, let me offer a special thank you for sticking with me. I wish everyone a happy, healthy, and above-plan 2026. I’ll conclude with a hat tip to Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead who died twelve days ago. Here’s John Mayer playing a touching Ripple, on one of Bobby’s guitars, at his life celebration in San Francisco last weekend.
Notes
[1] Also see terms and conditions as well as other disclaimers in the Kellblog FAQ.
[2] In my view, the most consistently monetizable activity in the crypto ecosystem has been the promotion and issuance of new tokens. Given that such tokens usually lack intrinsic value, these dynamics can, in practice, start to resemble Ponzi structures. Moreover, crypto assets have also been associated with a range of questionable and/or illegal use-cases, including money laundering, ransomware, online fraud and investment scams, political influence, tax evasion, and payments for illegal goods (remember how Tim Draper came across his considerable bitcoin position). The most legitimate use cases, in my view, are speculation — which may be unwise but should not be unlawful — and stablecoins for use in countries lacking reliable local currencies.
[3] At the time I remember thinking two things: (a) how unusual, and arguably unwise, it was for VC firm to declare a political position, and (b) that as soon as you declare yourself a single-issue voter – on any issue — you absolve yourself from looking at the bigger picture and the very real complexities within it. In short, it’s a cop out.
[4] The start of this video talks at length about the president’s personality which I find uncompelling because virtually all con men are personable (it’s kind of a job requirement) and there is ample data suggesting his behavior speaks otherwise. Ergo a higher bar than pleasant conversation and good listening skills should be applied.
[5] That there exists a startup focused on helping founders close startups is itself indicative of something!
[6] Please tell me I didn’t get you with this one!
[7] On LinkedIn and X, I can write posts that reach 1% of my followers if I don’t pay attention to the rules.
[8] And playing the game works differently on different platforms. LinkedIn swims upstream on many of its choices, so what works elsewhere will tend not to work on LinkedIn, and conversely.
[9] Where I sit on the board.
[10] Where Balderton is an investor.
[11] With whom I also do some work.
[12] As of the day I wrote this (1/14/26). That includes only resignation or removal. Prediction markets don’t allow bets on deaths so this market will not resolve to yes in that event.
[13] The things I do for my readers! Heretofore, I’d never watched an episode of The Joe Rogan Experience.
[14] Saying roughly that drivers, other than driving, do lots of things like … uh, uh, uh … uh, uh, uh … security? Not exactly an example we can all relate to. While billionaires often use drivers for security, for most people – if they’re even using one at all — a driver just drives.
[15] Even if those businesses are not ultimately successful or profitable
[16] In some cases, it’s creating. In others, it’s more “walking in front of a parade.” For example, Benioff, Musk, Altman – and many others — all to a greater or lesser degree walked in front of a parade. This, of course, is also a skill, both in identifying the right parade and in finding a way to get in front of it. And then, of course, building the business once you’re there.
[17] And deciding who you want to be is a key part of the exercise.
[18] Assumptions: $250M funds, 5 GPs, 2+20 fees, 4 funds in parallel, $3M staff and admin expense.
[19] This ignores the carry that is distributed to staff within the firm. But all math here is approximate, just to demonstrate the higher-level point.
[20] Or, more realistically, a nice fraction of a G5.
[21] Assumptions: $5B fund, 15 GPs, 2+20 fees, 4 funds in parallel, $30M staff and admin expense.
[22] Assumptions: 20% of $10B returned in excess of the $5B fund divided across 15 GPs.
[23] The naming here gets tricky due to existing conventions. If I were to call it net expansion rate, it would be too easily confused with net revenue retention (NRR); they sound too similar. What I’m trying to get at is the mechanism through which you hit your NRR. You can hit any given NRR (e.g., 100%) in several ways. For example, expansion of 50 against shrinkage of 50, or expansion of 0 against shrinkage of 0. The first example has a retention spread of 50 points (100 minus 50), the second 0 points (100 minus 100).
[24] Kyle Poyar wrote a nice report, The AI Churn Wave, on this topic. While he doesn’t explicitly look at retention spreads and while his data doesn’t show what I’d expect (i.e., higher retention spreads in AI than B2B SaaS), we do both arrive at the same conclusion: there is a wave of churn in AI startups coming.
[25] But launching something on December 22? Was this the ultimate contrarian timing, or a launch that slipped a few weeks and they thought, “Oh, just do it anyway”?
[26] I no longer tell my erstwhile favorite joke: the only thing you can make with meta-data is meta-money.
[27] Much like how AI was “a thing” decades ago, but only became real and widespread recently, so had knowledge management been a thing for decades. But it’s also never been real and mainstream. Maybe now it finally will.
[28] Similarly, I know that process mining has been around for a while and Celonis has created a ~$13B (valuation) business doing it. I view this as validation for lighter, more automated, more robust process graphs. As the William Gibson quote goes, “the future is already here, it’s just unevenly distributed.”
[29] Due to its odd name there are some tongue-tying semantics around it – e.g., “my Rule of 40 is 30” or “we are a Rule of 30 company.” To avoid this, I insert the word “score” – i.e., our Rule of 40 score is 30.
[30] I’ll use (growth, profit) as my nomenclature for communicating the elements of the R40 score.
The first time I heard the Grateful Dead was in the smoking area of my high school. (Yes, high schools had smoking areas in the 1970s.) Someone had brought in a boom box and was playing Wharf Rat, the chorus emerging like an uplifting prayer: “I’ll get up and fly away.”
Around the corner, written on the light brick wall in black, permanent ink was a line that the grafitti artist foresaw as iconic: “What a long strange trip it’s been.” The Dead permeated my high school like tie-dye through the fibers of a white, cotton t-shirt.
Such was high school in the 1970s. While I’m not in the photo below, it’s the only one could easily find online, just to give you a taste. While I don’t know what happened to most of the folks in this picture, one later became principal of the high school. Another was killed in 9/11. But this was us.
Irvington High School classmates
Many of us became deadheads. Second only to their home state of California (847), the Dead played more shows in New York (289) than any other. Often these were in small municipal or college venues like the Glens Falls Civic Center, the Onondaga War Memorial, the Broome County Arena, or Barton Hall at Cornell, later famous for hosting what was generally deemed their single best concert.
I was first drawn to Phil because the tone of his voice was unique and I loved the high harmonies that he often sang. Then I was drawn to Jerry because of his souful voice, wistful ballads, stunning guitar leads, and well, who couldn’t be drawn to Jerry?
I didn’t know what a rhythm guitarist was. But that was Bob Weir, often simply Bobby, cofounding member but nevertheless kid brother of the band. He was only 17 when he joined, compared to Garcia at 21, and Lesh at the ripe old age of 25.
Garcia, Lesh, and Weir at the Warfield in 1980
But I liked Weir’s high energy songs like Truckin’ and Sugar Magnolia, which often served as a gateway into the Dead’s music. And Sugar Magnolia contains one of my favorite Dead lyrics (“she’s a summer love in the spring, fall, and winter”) although it was penned by Robert Hunter.
A dispute with Hunter over the previous line — “she can jump like a Willys in four-wheel drive,” written by and classic Weir — permanently ended their songwriting partnership, driving Weir to collaborate with John Barlow going forward. Weir and Barlow would write some masterpieces together such as Weather Report Suite, a song so challenging to play that the band eventually stopped playing it.
But that was the Dead. A band that wrote songs that were too hard to play. The band that routinely played the most difficult thing that John Mayer ever learned. The band who built a public address system that was too expensive to transport. The band that wrote songs in 11/8 and 7/4 time signatures (The Eleven, Estimated Prophet). The band that encouraged bootlegged recordings with a dedicated “tapers” section. The band that provided medical and retirement benefits for its road crew. The band that pioneered a new category (“jam bands”), blazing a path in the 90s for Phish and today Goose.
Tapers at a Dead show in Berkeley
These were people who pushed the envelope. And Bob was a big part of that. Perhaps the biggest thing Bob did in recent years was recruit talent to keep the band going. John Mayer, Oteil Burbridge, Jeff Chimenti, and eventually Jay Lane. Without Bobby attracting this talent, the whole scene might have died with Garcia in 1995.
In other posts, I’ve written about businesslessonsfromthe Dead and there are plenty. Innovation, disruption, open source, community, alternative business models, category creation, customer centricity. I won’t rehash them here. If I had to net it all out, I’d say read Brian Halligan’s book. He knows the Dead, he knows marketing, and — as a cofounder of HubSpot — he knows tech.
Those of us in community knew that, as great as it was, it couldn’t last forever. The Sphere shows were epic.
Bobby at the Sphere
So were what turned out to be the final shows in Golden Gate Park. Particularly moving were the nightly guest appearances: Graheme Lesh (Phil’s son), Trey Anastasio, and Sturgil Simpson who knocked Morning Dew literally out of the park.
After Garcia’s death, Weir was once asked how often he thought about him. “Quite often,” Weir responded. “You know, he lives and breathes in me.”
And so it will be, Bobby, between you and us. Thanks for everything. Thanks for the long strange trip. Fare thee well.
How could I not love a marketing book that says — on page one — that “great marketing makes sales easier”? That’s long been a mantra of mine, the North Star that drove my marketing career, and it served me well for many decades.
Today, I’ll do a review of Courageous Marketing by Udi Ledergor, Chief Evangelist and former CMO for over 6 years at Gong. Let me preface this by saying I have always been a huge fan of Gong. From the first second I saw Gong, I thought, “this connects the C-suite to ground reality” and used the product at the companies I ran and recommended it to the other startups I worked with.
I always told CEOs this: “Buy Gong, get together as an e-staff, and listen to 3-5 sales calls. When you’re done listening, crawl back out from under the table, and then you can decide what you want to do about it.” That’s what happens when you get connected to ground truth. That’s how “cringe” your reality often is compared to your management team’s expectations.
Everyone had onboarding programs, everyone had quarterly update training, everyone had certification, but nobody knew what was actually being said on sales calls. Gong eliminated that problem. I was fascinated to see more emergent use cases later arise like forecasting based on activity. I was unsurprised to see the space eventually consolidate around a broader sales platform with Zoominfo buying Chorus, Clari acquiring Wingman, Gong acquiring RightBound, and Outreach acquiring Canopy, among other examples.
Throughout its history I always felt that Gong was one of a very few enterprise software companies that was not only a clear leader in its market, but also had a distinct brand and personality. Others might include Salesforce and Splunk.
In Courageous Marketing, Udi tells you where that personality came from and how they fought to define and maintain it. The book is organized as a series of twelve short chapters, each containing a series of related lessons.
A Super Bowl Commercial describes the process for getting board approval, executing, and then socially promoting a 2021 Super Bowl commercial they aired regionally. The commercial was quite good in my opinion — unlikely to win any awards for creativity from advertising groups — but clear, simple, and benefit-oriented messaging told in an interesting way. It was a gutsy move, and it worked, but it led to a second, not-good commercial in 2022 that Udi later discusses. Don’t let starting with a chapter on Super Bowl ads turn you off (as it initially did me). There’s plenty of great, less rarefied stuff coming.
The Riskiest Strategy of All, which according to Udi, is playing it safe. He describes how Gong didn’t play it safe with either its visual identity or with its messaging. He describes the focus and consensus problems that often result in mediocre, least-common-denominator marketing and punches it home with one of my favorite quotes: “I’ve searched all the parks in all the cities and found no statues of committees” from GK Chesterton. One great way to not play it safe is to speak your buyer’s language. A lot of the corporate veiling drops off when you do that. And you’ll sound different.
Punch Above Your Weight. I’ve often heard it said that marketing’s job is to “make us look bigger than we are” or, in my case, additionally to “make us not look French” (chez Business Objects). I think every CMO needs to make their company look bigger (and, if applicable, less French) as well as somewhat further along with its vision. As Larry Ellison once said, “sometimes I get my verb tenses mixed up,” which is fine on the about-us page, if not the product one. Udi describes a technique straight out of pre-stoic RyanHoliday where you “advertise offline, amplify online,” for example, by buying a half-hour’s worth of the NASDAQ billboard in Times Square and then amplifying it via social media. He then importantly shares some thoughts on measuring brand investments, including using Gong to do so (e.g., counting references to a podcast appearance in sales calls).
You Can’t Own Brand, which echoes one of my favorite David Packard quotes (“marketing is too important to be left to the marketing department”) and one of my favorite Henry Ford quotes (“quality is doing it right when no one is looking”) – or its marketing equivalent from Jeff Bezos, “your brand is what people say about you when you’re not in the room.” To the extent branding is determined not just by what you say, but by what you do, he outline Gong’s operating principles – not corporate values, mind you – but actionable principles people could follow in their day-to-day work (e.g., create raving fans). In short, as Udi says, “the takeaway is clear: marketing can’t succeed if brand-building is a disjointed exercise, separate from the rest of the company.” He ends the chapter with advice straight out of Seth Godin: don’t be boring.
Should You Build a Category? This chapter alone is worth the price of the book because Udi provides reasoned pushback on the Play Bigger argument that to win in Silicon Valley you must to create and dominate a category — which itself is arguably a reskinned version of Geoffrey Moore who said to create a tornado and then emerge from it as the gorilla. (Moore mixed metaphors, but we love him nevertheless.) In addition to the category creation challenges Udi mentions, my problem with this is that as Silicon Valley matures, more and more categories have already been created — so life is not as simple as homesteading an unoccupied piece of the market as it was in the 1990s to 2000s. Today, I tell people: if you want to create a category, go sell some software. (Which means we need to talk about how you’re going to do that, which quickly takes us back to marketing strategy.) Udi’s viewpoint is not miles away. Though he does observe that in certain situations, classical category creation remains relevant, and Gong’s situation was one of them with Revenue Intelligence. He outlines who they hired to do this, how long it took (3 years), the approach they used (market the category, not the product), and how they measured it.
Would You Pay For Your Content? This is a delightful essay on content marketing. It introduces the 95/5 rule of B2B marketing (95% of buyers are not in-market) and ergo the need to find those few in market while nurturing the rest, and producing content that works for both audiences to avoid “pitch slapping” the vast majority who are not currently in-market. He provides a nice differentiation between product marketing and content marketing. He wraps up with a case study on Gong Labs, which I always thought of as a great, data-driven content factory, much in the same way I think of Peter Walker’s content today at Carta. The difference is that Gong sells to sales and can express a totally different personality in presentation. One early headline was, “Secret #1 – Shut The F*ck Up” in a piece that analyzed talk/listen ratios on successful sales calls.
Creating Events Magic is a topic about which I need no convincing. I am a huge fan of well-executed events, both large and small. Especially now, in the post-Covid but still somewhat WFH-heavy world, people like to get out and talk to each other. This chapter is an excerpt/rewrite of a book Udi published in 2015, The 50 Secrets of Trade Show Success. It’s quite tactical, but it’s good. Tradeshows are all about tactics.
When Things Go Wrong discusses how to handle things when some of your bold experiments backfire, like the example he presents where – and this is somewhat unbelievable – they tried to leverage the murder of George Floyd by making donations to the NAACP in return for G2 reviews. While there may be no statues of committees in parks, no committee in a zillion years would have approved this campaign. He discusses the fast, direct approach he took to dig out from this mistake. Then he discusses the second, unsuccessful Super Bowl commercial. There are a few good lessons here, but IMHO he misses the biggest one: make sure your CEO understands that you’re taking risks and once in a while they’re going to blow up on you. Put differently: if you want fewer mistakes, I can take smaller risks, but that might also reduce sales. Get some buy-in on your chosen risk profile before the shit hits the fan. You might need it.
Chart Your Own Path is a chapter on career that encourages you to carve out roles that fit your strengths, work at startups that have already achieved product-market fit (PMF), and to pick the right company at which to work. The right company not only has established PMF, but has a CEO whose vision for marketing aligns with yours and your styles work well together. We all know a perfectly good marketer who suffered because they joined a company that didn’t pass one or more of these tests.
Lay The Foundation For Greatness emphasizes the importance of having a high-level marketing strategy that is aligned with company goals so people can understand not only the details of your plan but the underlying logic behind it. Understanding both is key to driving commitment. He also emphasizes an idea that I heard almost verbatim from one of my bosses when I was a CMO: wear two hats. Or, as it was put to me: “you have two jobs – one is to run the marketing department and the other is to help me run the company.” The natural consequence is that you must build a strong team beneath you, so that you have time for your second job. Too many CMOs fail because they never get beyond the day job, and that is usually a result of a weak team or insufficient resources. If your CEO tells you, “you have two jobs,” then make sure they’ve given you the resources to do them both. One of my rare disagreements with Udi is at the end of this chapter where he advocates for executives taking positions on social and global issues. I think that’s a slippery slope and a mistake and, as Udi foretells, I’ll be someone who respectfully disagrees with him on that viewpoint. My quip on the general issue of enterprise software companies taking official positions on social and global issues is: “Sir, this is an Arby’s.”
Building a Courageous Team shares Udi’s views on teamwork, including his take on when to hire for potential over experience, sequencing how you build a marketing team as a company scales, and the culture that drives great teamwork. He shares three of their operating principles: foster of a culture of healthy risk-taking (a central thesis of the book), stay involved without micromanaging (easier said than done), and keep it simple. I’ll take his third principle one step further: I think it’s marketing’s job to impose simplicity on a complex and chaotic world.
You’re Half of a Two-Headed Dragon recognizes that reality that sales and marketing are partners in revenue generation. My favorite metaphors are “we’re running a three-legged race” and, more colorfully, “the CRO and CMO are lashed together as a human battering ram.” If Udi likes dragons, so be it. He repeats his belief that marketing exists to make sales easier (amen) and shares five principles of sales and marketing alignment.
The book ends, fittingly, with a list of tips from CMOs on how to do more courageous marketing.
While you shouldn’t judge a marketing book by its cover, you can judge it by its marketing. And Udi has done an impressive job here. The back cover quotes come from a high-firepower list including Daniel Pink, Robert Cialdini, Nir Eyal, Neil Patel, Carilu Deitrich, and Kyle Lacy. The forward is written by Sam Jacobs of Pavilion. The interior quotes include Trisha Gellman CMO at Box, Dave Gerhardt from CMO at Drift and founder of Exit 5, Dave Kellogg (I served as an advance reviewer and provided a quote), Jon Miller cofounder of Marketo and Engagio, Andrew Davies CMO of Paddle, and Anthony Kennada former Gainsight CMO and founder of Goldenhour.
The book was published in April to some great coverage. I’ve recently noticed Udi doing some double-dip marketing on social media. Those posts provided me with enough energy to complete my long-overdue review.
Courageous Marketing is a quick and uplifting read. I’d knock it off on an upcoming airplane trip to get your marketing juices flowing. It could also be the perfect stocking stuffer for the marketer in your life.
Why your messaging needs a number written for the buyer, not for you.
Musical theater offers a surprisingly useful lesson for B2B marketers: the “I want”song. Nearly every musical features an “I want” song third or fourth in the score, after we’ve been introduced to the characters but before we understand their motivations. That’s when the protagonist steps forward and articulates what they want, often in the language of longing. It is a structural requirement: the audience cannot understand the stakes of the story unless they first understand the desire that animates its hero.
Hercules wants to find where he belongs. Hamilton wants his shot. Ariel wants to be part of another world. Mulan (like Rumi) wants to be accepted as her true self. Elder Price wants to do something incredible. The details vary, but the mechanism does not: the story cannot begin until the protagonist tells us what they want.
This turns out to be a useful metaphor for B2B marketing. Every buyer has an “I want” song: usually unspoken, often half-formed, but always present. Yet most messaging fails to reveal it. Instead, we default to talking about our own technology, our architecture, our features, our AI, our category. We sing our song. When we should be singing theirs.
I like devices that force a frame switch, and thinking about “I want” songs does exactly that. They push us out of vendor-centric thinking and into a more empathic posture: what does the buyer wish were true, not only organizationally but personally? To make the idea concrete, I went so far as to draft a sample FP&A “I want” song to the tune of Go the Distance, which worked quite well as a template. The exercise also forced me into short, simple phrasing — an unexpected but useful reminder to use plain language.
That detour was fun, but let’s return to the main argument.
The reason the “I want” structure works as a messaging framework is that its underlying components — the ache, the aspiration, and the bridge — map surprisingly well onto the way buyers perceive their own situation.
First comes the ache: the protagonist’s sense that something is missing. Ariel feels trapped; Moana feels pulled toward something beyond the reef; Hercules feels out of place. In a business context, the ache is rarely “we need AI-driven orchestration.” It is more grounded and more personal:
I want to stop feeling constantly behind.
I want the board to stop grilling me every month.
I want managers to believe in the plan rather than treat it as something imposed on them.
I want my team to get home at a reasonable hour.
I want to actually do analysis instead of wrestling with systems.
These are the underlying motivations that drive buyers. As I’ve said before, marketers tend to remember the business benefits but forget the personal ones –i.e., the “kiss” in the benefits stack. Writing an “I want” song forces us to reinsert the personal dimension.
Next is the aspiration — the imagined better world. Hercules imagines belonging; Mulan imagines authenticity without alienation; Elder Price imagines extraordinary accomplishment. In FP&A terms, aspirations could include:
A plan that people believe in and are committed to
A model that can be updated without triggering a cascade of breakage.
A planning cycle that doesn’t consume nights and weekends.
A finance team that is viewed as a strategic partner rather than a reporting function.
These aspirations, importantly, should be described in terms the buyer actually uses, not in vendor jargon.
Finally comes the bridge — the mechanism that makes the aspiration feel reachable. In a musical, this is the moment when the hero decides to act. In marketing, this is where the product finally enters, not as the hero but as the tool that enables the hero’s journey. If the ache is “I’m stuck in Excel hell” and the aspiration is “I want a planning process that people trust and that lets me get home for dinner,” then the bridge might be: This system will take me from the chaos I live with today to a world in which the plan is credible, the board is confident, and I’m not working every weekend.
In this framing, the buyer is the protagonist and you are the mentor, guide, or map. The best narratives work this way. The worst invert the roles.
Unfortunately, much of modern B2B messaging still sings the wrong song. “We’re an AI-enabled platform delivering real-time insights at scale” is an “I am” song. The buyer does not care who you are until they understand why it matters. A better start would acknowledge the ache, gesture toward the aspiration, and only then offer the bridge: “FP&A teams spend 30% of their week pulling data instead of analyzing the business. Our platform gives them that time back.” That’s the beginning of an “I want” song: I want to put the A back in FP&A.
Companies that successfully reframe markets often do this instinctively. Snowflake didn’t lead with “cloud data warehousing”; they led with, “I want my data to be usable.” Figma didn’t lead with “multiplayer design”; they led with, “I want design to move at product speed.” Datadog didn’t lead with “observability”; they led with, “I want to see everything before it breaks.” These are buyer “I want” statements, whether or not the companies described them that way.
Narrative, messaging, and positioning are distinct disciplines, but they share a foundational principle: the buyer is the protagonist. Your first task is to understand the buyer’s “I want,” and your second is to articulate it more clearly than they can themselves.
Try this simple test: read your homepage aloud and ask whether the buyer can hear themselves as the one singing it. If the answer is no, you are singing your song, not theirs.
You know you’re on the right track when buyers start reacting not just to your product, but to your understanding of their situation. They nod before you ever show a screenshot. They finish your sentences. They repeat your messaging back to you in their own words, often with a slight sense of relief that someone has articulated the problem. They circulate your deck internally not because it describes your offering, but because it describes their goals. They say things like, “This is exactly what we’ve been trying to do,” or — my personal favorite thing to hear — “It sounds like you’ve been in our meetings for the last three years.”
Let’s net this out: if this were a musical and your buyer was the protagonist, what “I want” song would they sing?
Figure that out and you’ll build some powerful messaging. But don’t be like me and actually try to pair those lyrics to a song — though I have to admit it is fun.
I’m Dave Kellogg, advisor, director, blogger, and podcaster. I am an EIR at Balderton Capital and principal of my own eponymous consulting business.
I bring an uncommon perspective to enterprise software, having more than ten years’ experience in each of the CEO, CMO, and independent director roles in companies from zero to over $1B in revenues.
From 2012 to 2018, I was CEO of Host Analytics, where we quintupled ARR while halving customer acquisition costs, ultimately selling the company in a private equity transaction.
Previously, I was SVP/GM of the $500M Service Cloud business at Salesforce; CEO of MarkLogic, which we grew from zero to $80M over six years; and CMO at Business Objects for nearly a decade as we grew from $30M to over $1B in revenues.
I love disruptive startups and and have had the pleasure of working in varied capacities with companies including Bluecore, FloQast, Gainsight, Hex, Logikcull, MongoDB, Pigment, Recorded Future, Tableau, and Unaric.
I currently serve on the boards of Cyber Guru, Light, Scoro, TechWolf, and Vic.ai. I have previously served on boards including Alation, Aster Data, Granular, Nuxeo, Profisee, and SMA Technologies.