What I Wish I'd Known

Identity Practices for the Category Creation Journey

When I look back at building Nori, I realize now that the hardest parts weren't about the business strategy or technical challenges. They were about my own identity becoming completely fused with our vision of carbon removal, and the painful transitions that came later.

I wrote about this experience last week in "The Torch Bearer's Evolution." Several people replied saying they wished I'd actually answered some of those hypothetical questions I'd posed, so here are the practices I would integrate into my normal routines if I were building another category-creating business.

This isn't the standard "don't tie your identity to your startup" advice. For category creators, that fusion might be necessary to bring something entirely new into existence. The question isn't how to avoid it, but how to survive it with your sense of self intact.

Here are a few simple practices I wish I'd established early – not to optimize business outcomes, but to help maintain some separation between myself and the category I was creating.

In the Beginning: Document Your Thinking

My role at Nori evolved over time from deep technical engagement to systems-building and fundraising. This transition happened so gradually that I didn't notice how my thinking was changing until it was too late.

A simple practice that would have helped: Taking 15 minutes each week to document my raw thoughts about what I was seeing in the market. Today, I'd use a project in an LLM like Claude for this - having regular conversations about my evolving vision and tagging them consistently to create a searchable record. Being able to ask "What was I thinking about direct air capture in 2019?" or "How have my views on permanence evolved?" would have provided crucial continuity during strategic pivots.

I remember when we were evaluating a potential partnership with a major agriculture company. In the meeting, I found myself unable to recall the specific technical reasons why we had designed our measurement methodology the way we had. I knew the high-level talking points, but the deeper reasoning – which I had once been fluent in – had faded. I ended up deferring to one of our scientists, which was appropriate, but I felt a strange disconnection from work that had once been so fundamental to my thinking.

This wasn't just a professional gap – it was a personal one. The process of delegation had inadvertently eroded not just my knowledge, but part of what had made the work meaningful to me.

Recording your thinking doesn't take much time. Use voice notes or dictate to an LLM if writing feels burdensome. The key is consistency, not perfection.

As You Build: Stay Connected to Ground Reality

As we grew, I focused increasingly on high-level strategy while delegating implementation. This separation made sense operationally, but it created a growing gap between my vision and the day-to-day reality of our work.

What I wish I'd protected: Regular field visits to our suppliers. The times I did visit farms were incredibly invigorating and educational—walking the fields, talking directly with the farmers who were real trailblazers in regenerative agriculture, seeing the physical reality of our work.

One of my very favorite work trips for Nori was a tour through Nebraska at several different farms who were selling carbon removals through our market. I learned so much more about the actual practices in the field, the expensive equipment they needed, and so on. It made much of what I had been reading about and discussing so much more real. Meeting the farmers and seeing firsthand the practices we were incentivizing provided insights that no spreadsheet or team report could deliver. These visits reconnected me to the core purpose of what we were building in a way that management meetings never could.

As my calendar filled with investor meetings and board presentations, these field visits were incredibly rare. Yet they were precisely what I needed to maintain both strategic clarity and personal connection to our mission. I wish I had done it much more often.

These experiences shouldn't be rare exceptions. Schedule quarterly visits with the people/partners/customers who ground you in advance so they don't get displaced by seemingly more urgent matters. Even during fundraising, protect this time – not just for business insights but for your own sense of purpose and connection.

After Stepping Back: Remember What You've Accomplished

The final challenge came during transition. When my identity had been so wrapped up in driving our vision forward, stepping back created a profound disorientation.

A practice that would have helped: Regularly documenting specific accomplishments that connected to our original vision – not just financial metrics, but meaningful progress toward what we set out to build.

When I was working on updating my LinkedIn profile after leaving Nori, I started listing the key milestones we'd achieved. Beyond the fundraising and team growth, I noted how we'd helped establish an entirely new category of carbon removal, developed novel measurement methodologies, and built one of the first functioning carbon removal marketplaces.

Looking at this list, I had a moment of clarity: we had accomplished so much of what we originally set out to do. This perspective would have been invaluable during the difficult periods when it felt like we were endlessly building dependencies rather than making progress. It would have helped me separate the company's journey from my personal sense of achievement.

Taking just 30 minutes at the end of each quarter to document what you've accomplished – framed in terms of your original vision, not just conventional metrics – creates a record that helps maintain your sense of purpose through difficult transitions.

These Practices Are About Survival, Not Optimization

I'm not suggesting these practices will optimize business outcomes, though they might help. They're about something more fundamental: maintaining your humanity through a journey that can consume it completely.

The irony of category creation is that the total commitment it demands can ultimately separate you from both the category and yourself. These simple practices create just enough separation to survive the inevitable transitions ahead.

If you're early in your journey, start one of these practices now:

• Take 15 minutes weekly to record your thinking

• Schedule regular direct conversations with customers or suppliers

• Begin documenting achievements against your vision

Don't wait until you feel disconnected – by then, it's much harder to rebuild these bridges.

Which practice will you start this week?