Blurry photos, be gone!

Blurity has a new look, faster interaction, and — most importantly — a much-improved deblurring engine.

Is it perfect? No.  Not by a long shot.  But I do believe that Blurity now meets the inclusion criteria for the category of “somewhat useful.”

That said, there are some caveats.  A few ways to be disappointed:

• Submitting a huge image and expecting processing to be done nearly instantly.  It takes a while, as in five or more minutes, to process most images.
• Trying to use it from a non-Webkit smartphone.  If your phone runs Android, iPhone OS 3.0+, or WebOS (e.g., the Palm Pre), your experience should be quite decent.
• Expecting miracles.  If the blur in the image is extreme, if the noise in the image is crazy, if the image compression is incredibly aggressive, if the image is really small, if the photo is horribly overexposed… well, then, Blurity probably won’t work too well.  It works best on moderately blurry, not-too-noisy, not-too-compressed, reasonably large, reasonably well-exposed photographs.
• Selecting a bad focus point.  The focus point should be the part of the image that you most wish would have been sharp.  The deblurring is applied to the entire image, but the focus point is used to model the blur, so it’s important that you choose something reasonable.

I sincerely appreciate the feedback that you all sent my way after the initial release.  Many of the changes in the new version were driven by those comments, and many of the future changes will be linked to comments that I have yet to act upon.  Comments on this newer version are appreciated and needed.

With the site now at a point where it isn’t a complete embarrassment, I’m going to begin a marketing push that extends beyond my blogs.  Expect to see and hear more in the coming days as I actively promote it for the first time.

Give Blurity a try.  Make your blurry photos sharp.  Let me know what you think.

(Cross-posted on Keacher.com)

It was just over halfway through a game of pick-up hockey at the Breck Ice Arena in suburban Golden Valley, Minnesota.  Since I was playing goalie, I had just swapped nets with the other goaltender.  In pick-up hockey the teams are assigned randomly by splitting a jumbled mess of sticks prior to the game.  The goalies switch sides halfway through the game to lessen the goaltending bias.

As the goalie, I got to see both teams play, and I was able to count each group as my teammates.  At the beginning of the game, I thought that my first team (”lights”) was dominating the other team (”darks”).  The puck was on the other end of the ice for what seemed like most of the time, and the shots I did face were easily manageable.  The only goal I allowed in the first 45 minutes was on a rebound after I made a save on a breakaway.  In contrast, the other goalie was being lit up with shots and goals.  With the time to switch sides drawing near, I was a little disappointed by the prospect of leaving the dominating team and joining the dominated group.

I was wrong.  Oh, how I was wrong.

I switched sides and… nothing.  I just stood there.  Even fewer shots came my way, and when the puck did manage to make it into my defensive zone, it was gone again within seconds.  The makeup of the teams, other than the goalies, had not changed, but my perception had.  I realized that those I had believed to be the dominated were  in fact the dominators.

How could that have happened?  For one thing, during the second half, I had an accurate external reference (a clock) to inform my perception of the game.  As a goalie, I tend not to notice the passage of time while the puck is in my zone, but when it’s on the other end of the ice, time slows to a crawl.  For another, I had misjudged the talent of the individual players.  I had believed that the players on my first team were better than they really were simply because they were on my team; ipso facto, they had to be the best players on the ice.

So it goes with startups.

A startup is like a sports team.  You’re playing against other startups.  Even though all of the players might be acquaintances, some are known better than others, and some have reputations that have become larger than life.  The upshot is that it can be difficult to judge the skill possessed by the other company without experiencing it firsthand from the inside.  Are the engineers superstars or mere mortals?  Does management have it together?  How good is their plan?  Was their highly publicized misstep actually inconsequential?  Likewise, it can be nearly impossible to accurately assess the states of the competition’s products.   Are they launching tomorrow?  Are they having trouble gettng started?  Have they run into major problems?  Are they pimping vapor?  You just don’t know.

Competitive intelligence can be useful, such as that obtained by interviewing mutual industry contacts (this is done in the medical device field quite often).  Investors, too, are well connected.  Job postings can tell you a lot. Social encounters might also be informative.  So can the lack of them — are all of the competitor’s employees working late instead of partying?

Ultimately, the best you can manage is a guess.  But when you guess, don’t underestimate the other team or overestimate your own.

In the autumn of 1998, Stephens came to my high school to speak to my entrepreneurship class (a course which I forgot to mention in my previous post).  He came in uniform: black slacks, white short-sleeve dress shirt, black tie, and cast-metal badge.  He looked every part the geek, which was appropriate, since he was the founder and owner of the Geek Squad.

Prior to the sale of the company to Best Buy in 2002, the Geek Squad was an independent IT consulting and on-site repair service operating in the Minneapolis area.  The Geek Squad agents — the computer techs — were known for technical prowess, attention to detail, and customer service.  Of course, there were but a few dozen agents in the company, and the Geek Squad was but one of many firms in the area providing computer services, so skills alone might not have been enough.

What set the Geek Squad apart?  Competence and marketing.

Competence #1: Hiring — Stephens hired only people without certifications (e.g., MCSE or A+) to be techs.  His logic was along the lines that the most competent people would be passionate enough to be self-taught, and those people wouldn’t bother with certifications.  They got the job done quickly and correctly.

Competence #2: Reputation — Robert was a frequent guest on local TV news shows, where he discussed technical issues making headlines around the country, such as the latest computer virus or web breakthrough.  And the caption below his face?  Always mentioned his company.  Off camera, the Geek Squad was known as the go-to group for emergency computer service.  When national music acts were in town and were having trouble with their computers, the promoters referred them to the Geek Squad.

Promotion #1: The Cars — The old Geek Squad used restored cars from the 1940s and 1950s, painted black and white to resemble the police cars of the era.  The old squad cars were quite a sight, but to make sure people were actually looking at the cars, Stephens had the tire pressures set artificially low and told his agents to take corners extra fast, thus ensuring large amounts of attention-getting tire squealing.

Of course, 50-year-old cars with squealing tires don’t scale well, but Robert wanted the replacement cars to continue to have some cachet.  The solution?  Black-and-white VW “new” Beatles.  Also, modern cars (and particularly electronic fuel injection) are much more user-friendly in the harsh Minnesota winter.

Promotion #2: The Business Cards — Most business cards receive a quick glance before being tossed or forgotten.  To ensure a longer life for the Geek Squad cards, Robert had them die-cut into ovals, making the card look like a perfect physical copy of the logo.  On the reverse side, he included a number of helpful computer-use tips of the type that would encourage people to keep the cards near their computers.  Then, when trouble would strike, the tip-laden card — and the company’s phone number — would be close at hand.

Promotion #3: The Name — Let’s face it, “Geek Squad” is both catchy and descriptive.  Who knows computers?  Geeks.  What group do you call when there’s a problem?  A squad.  Brilliant.  An added bonus of being memorable and descriptive is that it was often easier to remember the Geek Squad’s name than that of competitors.  Apparently, on more than one occasion, a person called 411 looking for computer help with only a vague sense of the name of a competitor — say, the Repair Nerds.  “Geek Squad” was such a powerful brand that the caller latched onto it instead of the original target company.

Promotion #4: The Uniform — Stereotypes can be used to one’s advantage, as shown by the Geek Squad uniform.  I don’t recall Robert wearing taped black plastic glasses, but everything else was there, straight out of the 1950s: black slacks, white short-sleeve dress shirt, and narrow black tie.  On top of that, since they were agents in a squad, they carried genuine-looking cast-metal badges.  Stephens even went through the trouble of getting the badges made by a company that makes real law-enforcement badges.  Details matter.

Was the service offered by the Geek Squad vastly superior to that of competitors?  Probably not.  It was very good, but equal service was available elsewhere.  What set the Geek Squad apart from its competition was its brand: catchy, consistent, fun, and extremely well-executed.

In fact, one might argue that the service in the current Best Buy-operated incarnation is downright mediocre, but the brand is so strong that it has survived even a massive setback in quality.  Impressive.

As of today, I am officially abandoning my job hunt. I have found what I was looking for; I had it all along. The problem was a lack of complete commitment.

I have been doing entrepreneurial things since I was a child. Mowing lawns at first, later doing IT consulting and computer repair. While in undergrad, I dabbled in the world of web development by building Bonneville Club, which served as an invaluable lab for me to learn about server administration, community building, people management, and revenue generation. Later, I experienced the thrill of being web-famous with a couple of popular blog posts and millions of visitors to my webcomic.

The business card from my IT consulting "company" during high school, a decade ago.

I valued my time at Medtronic after undergrad. I had wonderful co-workers, a company that treated its employees very well, and a salary higher than many see in their lifetimes. But I wasn’t satisfied.

“I realize this seems odd advice. If they make your life so good that you don’t want to leave, why not work there? Because, in effect, you’re probably getting a local maximum. You need a certain activation energy to start a startup. So an employer who’s fairly pleasant to work for can lull you into staying indefinitely, even if it would be a net win for you to leave.”

– Paul Graham

When I went to grad school, I chose to study entrepreneurship in the Management Science and Engineering program. I took courses on starting companies. I attended lectures by famous entrepreneurs. I talked with Silicon Valley venture capitalists and CEOs. I idolized my successful-entrepreneur professors. I watched my friends start and build businesses.

There was, I believe, a bit of jealousy. If my friends could do it, why not me? I mean, I was smart, too. Why couldn’t I experience the dizzying highs and crushing lows? Why couldn’t I build amazing products? Why couldn’t I achieve financial freedom? Why not?

I have come to realize that there were two things holding me back: fear and social expectations. For a time I used money or a lack of ideas as excuses, but a detailed examination of business case studies shows that deficiencies in those areas rarely represented insurmountable obstacles. No, the fear of the unknown kept me locked in place, and that kept me in line with society. Why give up a good job at a solid company in the pursuit of a crazy dream? What’s more, society tends to fear change and uncertainty and ostracize those who dare challenge the status quo. To many, the thought of venturing off on one’s own is pure madness.

But without change there cannot be progress. Who will move the world if not me?

“If you want to do it, do it. Starting a startup is not the great mystery it seems from outside. It’s not something you have to know about ‘business’ to do. Build something users love, and spend less than you make. How hard is that?”

– Paul Graham

In some ways, the economic collapse was the best thing that could have happened for me. It made my job search difficult to the point of impossibility. In hindsight, I don’t know why I was looking for a job at an established company instead of heading out on my own. Clearly, my heart wasn’t in the hunt. The challenge was worsened by my desire to switch into a more business-oriented role and away from my technical roots. I had good discussions with a few companies, and interviews with some others, but they seemed loath to help me make that transition. Some went as far as to offer me technical roles developing software, but such capitulation would be, in my mind, career suicide. Another job as a software engineer for somebody else would nullify my entire graduate education and permanently cement me in my pigeonhole. I would rather abandon high-tech entirely than write software in a cube for somebody else. Oh, and I don’t think I’m a very good programmer.

“You‘ve got all these cops thinking you‘re a lawyer. And you got all these lawyers thinking you‘re some kind of cop. You‘ve got everybody fooled, don’t you?“

— from the film “Michael Clayton”

On the other hand, writing software for myself is entirely different. Despite my not being particularly good at it, writing software for my own ends is deeply satisfying. I love the act of creation. I love the instant gratification. I love the communion between me and my machine.

Thus, my startup is a software startup. Of my many interests — hockey, photography, baking, etc. — software is the one most amenable to company-building. Who cares if the prototype code is crap? If it works well enough to get me to the next stage, where I might be able to hire a competent coder to replace my hacker self, then the mission has been accomplished.

Nesota LLC world headquarters

My intent is to give this my all. When I turn 30 in three years, I want to be either rich or penniless. The outcome doesn’t matter so much to me as long as it’s not the mushy middle; that would be indicative of a failure. I want to know that I gave it my full effort. I don’t want to half-ass it and spend the next decade wondering what could have been.

Hopes and dreams

I’m not rich. I’m not famous. I have limited capital, a car with 204k miles on it, and a two-year-old computer.

But I have ambition. I’m going for it.

(cross-posted at Keacher.com)

“Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.”

So it went with Nesota.   I considered many ideas, including:

• Group travel planning/coordination service, born out of my own frustration
• Consumer-grade thermal imaging camera, prompted by stories of volunteer firefighters borrowing the departments’ thermal cameras for use as hunting aids
• Group gift service, where money for a gift from a group could be collected and the gift selected
• Coaching hub, where students could find coaches, coaches could find students, and payment could be exchanged in a formal manner (”YouCoach.Me”)
• Broad automotive enthusiast site, in the style of BonnevilleClub.com (my successful niche site for Pontiac Bonneville owners, now sold)
• Photography TV channel or show, showing how to achieve various ends through technique (kind of like Good Eats meets The Shot)
• Service for pestering people to stop procrastinating and start working, targeted at entrepreneurs who can’t seem to get their projects going

In the months and years since my initial thoughts, some of these have come to be (for example, StickK partially fulfills the nagging-service use case), and others remain frustratingly absent (like the consumer-grade thermal camera, though it seems to be a ripe opportunity for Redshift Systems).  Part of the challenge in selecting an idea is having the perseverance to stick with a single idea instead of running off with the idea-of-the-week, each of which is “surely easier” and “certainly more profitable” than the original idea under development.

After a bunch of false starts (anybody want to buy the domain YouCoach.Me?), I settled on a computational photography idea that grew out of a discussion with a good friend.  What, specifically?  Well, if a photographer or the camera makes a mistake with the exposure setting, the white balance, or the framing, all of those problems can be corrected rather simply in post-production.  However, if a focusing error is made, the photographer has few good options.  Sure, he can hit the picture with “unsharp mask” and its brethren, but those filters serve only to increase the acutance of the image.  They don’t fix the underlying focus problem.  What to do?

It turns out that there’s a better way.  A way that’s been used to a limited extent in astronomy and microscopy for years.  A way that presents an exceptionally difficult technical challenge to the implementer.  A way that’s ripe for commercialization.

Imagine: if your camera produces a blurry photo because of a focusing error or camera movement, this technique can recover the latent sharp image and save the day.  Such is the beauty of the current idea.

The challenge now is the implementation.

When I filed the paperwork to organize Nesota, I didn’t have much of a plan.  Nay — I had no plan at all.  I had a whiteboard, an LLC, and a web server.  No plan.

There is some precedent for starting a company before knowing the company’s area of business.  For example, the founders of Hewlett-Packard started their now-enormous company without a clear idea of what to do.  Eventually, they figured it out, and HP went on to help establish what became “Silicon Valley” as we know it.

Hewlett and Packard might not have known the exact nature of their future business, but they knew enough to develop a list of guidelines.  That seemed like a good idea, so I did the same:

• Find a problem first, then build the technology around the problem, not vice-versa.  An all-too-common mistake among tech companies run by engineers is to focus on the technology instead of the customer needs.  In effect, they build an amazing solution to a problem nobody has.  They expect the world to beat a path to their door just because they have the coolest technological marvel.  Sorry, doesn’t work that way.  The correct approach is to develop a hypothesis about a problem, validate your assumptions by bringing your ideas in front of actual potential customers, and iterating until you hit on something viable.
• Identify an opportunity with low market risk but high technical risk.  Think about it:  not often have companies failed solely because the engineers shrugged and said, “Well, I guess what we set out to do is impossible,”  med-tech and bio-tech companies excepted.  In general, if the market exists, engineering can figure out a way to deliver something that will solve the customers’ problems.
• Ship early and ship often.  Focus on getting early cashflow and customers to support continued work and obtain real feedback.  Manage scope to keep the engineering difficulty and schedule in check.
• Build a sustainable business.  Something with a real business model (i.e., not reliant on web advertising, and definitely not “free”).  Something that will still be relevant  and valuable in a couple of years.  Not necessarily “sustainable” in the green sense of the word.
• Have enough profit potential to be a lifestyle business.   I wanted something that would give me financial freedom.  If I could do it without hiring anybody, so much the better. Net income targets would be in the $100k — $500k per year range.  Not huge, but enough to allow me to live comfortably.
• Not requiring external investment.  Revenue goals like those mentioned above are far too low to be interesting to venture capitalists.  Accepting outside investment makes one beholden to outside interests, which are not always well-aligned withe the founders.   No, I wanted to bootstrap the entire operation.
• Selling products as opposed to services.  Consulting and contract work can be lucrative, but the money is flowing only while you’re working, and such business don’t scale well.  A business selling products can “work” even while I’m hiking in the woods.
• Doing something I love.  Work takes a lot of time.  Why spend so much of the best years of my life doing something I don’t enjoy?  There’s always a risk in choosing an enjoyable topic that the existence of the company will destroy the enjoyment, but that can be mitigated by selecting a related field instead of the primary area of enjoyment.

Many of these criteria were informed by my experiences at Stanford, especially the course MS&E 273: Technology Venture Formation, which was perhaps the most useful, the most enjoyable, and the most work of any I took there.

Criteria: done.  Next step: identify The Problem.

While I’m skeptical about the long-term viability of any company that rests upon social interaction, Facebook included, I applaud the efforts of FanChatter and SocialBrowse to get something going in the Minnesota startup scene.  Sure, there are some others worth mentioning.  A quick Crunchbase search for companies in the Minneapolis area pops up a few familiar names, like GasBuddy and TinyUrl, but that pales in comparison to the wealth of startups in Silicon Valley.

I spent the past few years living in Palo Alto, and I have witnessed first-hand how pervasive entrepeneurship can become in a culture.  Out in Silicon Valley, it’s a badge of honor to be working at a startup.  Out in Silicon Valley, everybody seems to know at least a few VCs.  Out in Silicon Valley, there’s an extensive support structure for entrepreneurs and their fledgling companies.  Minnesota has a ways to go.

In Minnesota, it seems that most residents don’t even have a clear understanding of the word “startup.”  They smile and nod, because they’re Minnesota Nice, but the concept evades them.  I’d like to see that change.

Part of the trouble is that the Twin Cities are often thought of as a med-tech innovation center.  Other subjects might get short shrift.  I have a background in medical devices, but I’m not qualified (yet) to lead such a venture, so I prefer to focus on smaller IT-type ideas, even those small enough to be bootstrapped.

Here are some resources and entrepreneurial resources that might be of use to Minnesota startups:

• VCs: Split Rock Partners, Rain Source Capital, the yet-to-be-launched Altavail Partners, others listed at the MVCA
• Competitions/Demo Days: MinneDemo, Minnesota Cup
• Companies: Crunchbase listings
• Organizations: Minnesota High Tech Association, getSTEM

If anybody is interested in a Minnesota HN-type meetup, let me know.  Also, feel free to pass along any information to add to the list.