As an English major, I’d like to think that I know a thing or two about thesis statements. I tutor elementary school kids during the school year, and I remember regurgitating the rules to a student: “It’s got to be something that someone could hypothetically refute. And if you’re feeling ambitious, it’s got to embrace nuance.” She wasn’t getting it. Or she was – we landed on “Sally is brave,” based on a reading where Sally did things that were brave.

And you know what? It was a sound argument! It didn’t discuss the social, political, and economic implications of Sally’s bravery, but it made a heck of a lot more sense than some of the “in the weeds” theses that I’ve written.

If only such claims would suffice in the adult world. Daring Venture’s thesis could be “we invest in good startups.” But that doesn’t seem to be what they’ll land on.

I’ve sat in on a couple of their thesis-refining meetings, some of which last well into the night. VC is a college essay, I’m coming to learn. There are the standard rules you must follow: be both specific and vague, know your audience, demonstrate the stakes: “Why does New York need another venture firm?” (we’ve got to be able to answer that.) And at the same time, we have to follow the professor’s imperative to leave behind the five-paragraph essay structure we were spoon-fed in high school. The template is a limiting factor.

But it’s quite difficult to work without parameters. It seems like these two or three sentences have had a thousand different iterations. I hate changing my thesis once I’ve started writing the essay. Professors always tell me to do that, but I hate it.

Yes, it is. Precision is everything. At times in the process, I’ve wanted to scream “spit it out!” But it’s not something that flows off the dome. It’s like surgery, in a way. Vibes can only get you so far.

And it turns out that a venture capital thesis is not exactly the sort of argument I’m used to. It’s really just a way of saying what sorts of companies we invest in. But its significance oscillates, at times becoming a prophecy for the fate of humanity. We are investing in the future, after all. As Joe gives his spiel about what AI can and can’t replace, I picture his eyes glowing red like Zoltar’s in Big. I always found it delightfully creepy how the machine functioned without being plugged in. It seems like Joe’s on the brink of stringing the right words together and granting Daring it’s wish. But then someone asks a follow up question, and it all comes crashing down again.

Maddi sticks her head in the mini-fridge. It’s too hot in here. Every time Lauren agrees with an idea, Maddi makes her “hmm” sound. And vice versa. It’s like we’re getting everywhere and nowhere. And I struggle to temper my English major impulses. Do you want nuance in a VC thesis? Every generalization is wrong, I’ve heard people say. I’m inclined to agree. Generalizations make me squeamish. But the anchor’s got to land somewhere.

I’m happy with the compromise we reach, talking about nuance, as a value driver. We haven’t forgotten it. We just sideline it when we want to pack a punch.

At the end of the day, in college-level papers, venture capital, and whatever else, we’re all just saying shit. The farther we stray from “Sally is brave,” or “we invest in good startups,” the more convoluted things get. But what options do we have? You can’t put your money where your mouth is if you never put your mouth anywhere. (Not in a sexual way).

There really are stakes, too. But that leaves us with a new term to define, and more circles to run in. It’s not immediately clear what makes something existential – there’s no startup I know of who’s target demographic is people hanging from cliffs.

The crew spends a good 20 minutes trying to decide if the education sector is “high stakes.” I want to say yes, because it’s molding the minds of the future. Joe and I have differing perspectives on the education system, though, and once again nuance thwarts our team’s perpetual game of whack-a-mole. Sarah passes me the pack of slightly stale dried mangoes. I gnaw on a piece to relieve the tension in my jaw.

Now Joe’s talking about pilots, and then the publishing industry, where he believes the role of humans will be more crucial the more AI automates things. It takes enough energy to read a book nowadays. Or a blog post. Like Joe says, someone’s got to slap a name on the product. There’s a reason for that – I can’t picture myself getting excited about spending a precious $10 on Embers of the Forgotten by ChatGPT. Or even saving money on a fully-automated Spirit Airline flight, their last-ditch effort to stay in business.

But I digress, per usual. This morning Joe shares the newest thesis iteration, and it’s quite good. The fundraising deck is complete. We’re getting somewhere, it seems.