Lenny Rachitsky on the Other Side of the Mic: Following the Pull, the Weekly Treadmill, and the Moments That Scared Him Most

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Overview

Lenny Rachitsky usually asks the questions on his podcast. In this episode his wife, Michelle Rial, an author and chart-maker whose children's book Charts for Babies was about to come out, interviews him instead. Lenny said he hadn't seen her questions beforehand. The conversation covers how he ended up writing a newsletter with 1.2 million subscribers, what the work costs him, how he handles stress, and two of the hardest moments of the past few years: a fraud attack on his subscriber perks and a medical emergency during their son's birth. Along the way Lenny turns the questions back on Michelle, and the two find they share several ideas about creative work. The best material comes from real experience, it should be communicated simply, and it improves through heavy iteration.

26 min read
5:05

A career nobody planned

Michelle opens with the numbers. Lenny started the newsletter in 2019, it now has 1.2 million subscribers, and the podcast is usually among the top 10 tech podcasts. When she met him he was a software engineer. He later became a product engineer and then a product manager.

She asks what he would be doing if he had never started the newsletter. Lenny says that when he left Airbnb after seven years he had a clear hierarchy of plans. Plan A was to start another company. Plan B was to join a startup as its first PM. Plan C was to join a big company as a PM. Plan D was to advise companies as a consultant. None of these was "do this crazy thing that I do now." He was prototyping startup ideas and writing about what he'd learned on the side. Michelle remembers asking him why he was writing, since in her experience there is no money in putting writing on the internet.

Without the newsletter, Lenny guesses he would have started another company. Since most startups fail, he expects he'd have been "on the struggle bus of startup life," and after that failed he would probably have joined a company as a PM.

7:23

A collection of moments, not one decision

Asked whether one moment led him to go all in, Lenny describes a series of small signals. He followed a "pull" that kept working.

The first signal was his first piece of online writing, a Medium post about what he learned at Airbnb. Medium featured it, it spread widely, and it was shared with the whole company. That gave him an early sense that he might have something to share. A few more Medium posts did well.

The second was a conversation with his friend Lee Jacobs, now a VC. Lenny told him he didn't know why he was writing when he should be focused on a startup. Jacobs said Lenny seemed to enjoy it and people seemed to like it. He called that combination rare and suggested there might be a way to make money from it later, so Lenny should double down. When Lenny retold this as "people like it and I'm good at it," Michelle added the missing element: he also enjoys it. Lenny agreed that was the real trigger and compared it loosely to ikigai.

The third moment came nine months in. Lenny had moved to Substack and tweeted that he would experiment with a weekly newsletter. After publishing every week for nine months, he realized he could probably keep going. He cites the Lindy effect, the idea that something likely lasts at least as long again as it has already lasted, and concluded he could keep writing for at least another year. He still had plenty of ideas.

That was when he added a paywall. Money was part of the reason. He had been living on the assumption that his Airbnb stock would be worth something. When COVID hit, predictions that Airbnb was finished spread across Twitter, and he felt he might need a real job. He launched the paywall to see if the newsletter could make money, and he says it did. Within about a month he was making "meaningful dollars." He counts that as another signal that the path was working.

14:13

The Joshua Tree moment he had never shared

When Michelle asks about stress-management tools, Lenny goes back to the question of what led him to this work and shares something he says he had never talked about publicly. Around the time he was starting the newsletter, he was at Joshua Tree with a friend for a bachelor party, and psychedelics were involved. He sat on a rock for about three hours, breathing deeply, while the phrase "I have wisdom to share" kept coming to him "over and over and over." He also recalls a vivid visualization of a sitting Buddha.

The experience didn't make him write any particular post. He says it gave him confidence: "okay, maybe I do have things to share," and a sense that something inside him might let him do this. Michelle jokingly asks whether he wants to say anything to their mothers or cut the segment. He keeps it in.

10:36

Does he still like it? The Indiana Jones boulder

Lenny says he likes the work "in almost every way" and can't imagine anything more fulfilling. His job is to write about interesting things, share other people's insights, and interview people to "extract wisdom," and doing it as his own business makes it more interesting.

He then describes the downside. He cites a blog post by the artist Fnnch on making a living as an artist, which opens by warning that most people should not become professional artists, because once something becomes a thing you have to do, it changes. For Lenny that means a newsletter post every week and a podcast episode every week, which he calls a treadmill. Some weeks he loves it. Other weeks he wishes he could skip one. He believes consistency is the price of this kind of business: you can't survive without shipping something good every week.

His recurring image is the boulder chasing Indiana Jones. A post had come out the day before the recording, and his attention had already moved to the next week's piece. The work never stops arriving.

He says he doesn't know the long-term answer. At some point, whether at 60, 70, or 100, he may not be able to publish weekly, and he doesn't think there is a known path for the "Substack writer, podcast life" in the long run. Michelle applies the Lindy effect: seven years in, he should be good for seven more. Lenny accepts that.

Stress, genetics, and raising a happiness baseline

Michelle says Lenny doesn't seem like a stressed person, except about their toddler's potty training and sleep. Lenny thinks he is more stressed than he appears and more than he notices himself. He sometimes gets headaches and wonders if stress is the cause. Still, he thinks he is less stressed than average and attributes that roughly 70% to genetics. His default is "it'll be all right," which he admits extends to disputes about raw chicken. The rest, he says, comes from deliberately learning to think differently and take things less seriously.

Michelle mentions his meditation practice, including a 10-day silent retreat, and a happiness course he once described to her. Lenny calls the course, an online class from the University of Pennsylvania on the psychology of happiness, "pretty transformative." His main takeaway was the idea of a baseline. Something wonderful pushes your happiness up and something terrible pushes it down, but you return to your baseline either way. The lasting lever is raising that baseline. The course's main method for doing that, as he remembers it, was optimism: keeping a positive outlook and not letting your mind spiral into "it's going to be terrible." He found the gratitude material less useful. He believes his baseline has gone up.

He also remembers a point about exercise, noting it came from research roughly 15 years ago that may since have been updated. As he recalls it, exercise doesn't make you happier. It moves you from a negative state to neutral, from minus one to zero, which helps keep you out of depression.

The "thunder round": misophonia

Michelle parodies Lenny's lightning round with a "thunder round" about sounds. Lenny has misophonia, which he describes as a real condition in the brain that makes certain sounds intensely bothersome. On a scale where 10 is worst, he rates open-mouthed chewing a 10, especially when someone next to him is "chomping away," and he finds it awkward to ask anyone to stop. Nails on a chalkboard get a five or six. A baby crying, at the level of the newborn phase when they didn't know what to do, is about an eight. A loud leaf blower in his face while he's trying to work is about a seven. Their son saying "papa" and laughing rank as the best sounds. Lenny adds that only a few very specific sounds bother him, plus general commotion when he's trying to be calm.

20:20

Why Michelle's charts spread

Lenny then turns the questions around. Michelle's first book, Am I Overthinking This?, collects charts about everyday experiences and feelings. Lenny notes that her charts are widely shared, often with her attribution cropped out, and even printed on pillows and mugs sold by sites that give her no credit. He asks why they travel so well.

Michelle says she stopped looking at the copies because it doesn't help her, and that it matters less now that Lenny's business is doing well. Her sense of whether a chart is good is internal. She often makes something, lets it sit, and later sees what it needs. When a chart still makes her laugh or cackle even though she made it, or makes her tear up, she thinks people will like it. She says she is often wrong. One chart from the book that she never shared went viral because someone posted a phone photo of the page.

She aims for charts that are simple, quick to read, and show something the viewer hasn't thought of. Short attention spans reward easy-to-digest pieces that make people feel something. Simpler charts are also less physical work to draw. She says her mind naturally runs toward "this, but then this, then this," but people respond to simplicity.

Lenny sees a parallel with how he judges his newsletter posts. He doesn't wait for outside approval; he knows a piece is good when it feels good to him. He applies this more to the newsletter than the podcast. He also describes playing editor for Michelle. Some of her charts are "too clever," with too many layers for a short attention span, and he pushes her to simplify. She says he's usually right.

24:02

Where ideas come from

Michelle says her ideas come from living life and noticing things. She is most prolific when she's meditating, because meditation trains you to observe your own thoughts. She'll notice, for example, that she was anxious about something random and find that funny. She admits this amounts to overthinking every moment, which isn't really what meditation is supposed to teach. When she focuses too much on work, she stops living and stops having ideas. Children's books work somewhat differently because they're based on concepts for kids rather than relatable adult moments.

Lenny recalls a story, which he attributes to David Sedaris, about saying yes to every invitation in order to have experiences to write about. He takes this to mean creative work requires living a real life and trying things, not sitting and waiting for ideas.

Michelle explains how Charts for Babies started. She began a notebook of charts for new parents based on early parenthood. But after reading so many kids' books with their son, she had a children's-book rhythm stuck in her head. One day in the park she turned to the back of the notebook and started writing children's rhymes, and filled it from the back. Lenny calls this another example of "following pull."

32:08

Early projects: Atheist Spot, a tutorials site, and LocalMind

Michelle asks whether anything in Lenny's past hinted at this career. He says no: it was completely unexpected to him and to everyone else. He had never written online before and considers himself an introvert who prefers to stay behind the scenes. He thinks starting during COVID helped, because he could stay home, type, and publish without going anywhere to promote himself.

He then describes some side projects he says he's never discussed. In college he was a committed atheist. He describes himself as a Jewish atheist who is now much more relaxed about what others believe. He ran Atheist Spot, which he describes as Reddit for atheist news, and attended atheist conventions. Because most articles on the site were about religion, Google AdWords filled it with ads for religious dating sites like Christian Mingle, which he found funny given the audience.

With a friend, he built a site whose tagline was "tutorials for you, by you," where people wrote how-tos on things like making eggs or taking a quick shower. Lenny calls it ahead of its time and thinks it predated Wikipedia. Michelle compares it to how she uses TikTok. He says he's proud of it.

His startup, LocalMind, was an app built on top of Foursquare and Gowalla that let you ask questions of people checked in anywhere in the world, such as whether there was a long line at a nearby restaurant. Lenny describes it as an amazing idea that "nobody needs really." You might want it once a quarter, and it's great when you do, but that isn't a business. Other tools, like Google's busyness indicator, now solve the problem. Airbnb acquired LocalMind, which is how Lenny got there.

37:41

Working alone, face blindness, and being recognized

Michelle recalls that Lenny was her first online date, on a site called How About We, and that he had "a thing for designers." He says he has no regrets. They describe themselves as a yin and yang: he is tidy and unbothered, she is chaotic and bothered. Cleaners help.

She asks whether he misses office culture, since he recently said he has no coworkers and had always been social. For years he answered no. Recently, though, he has started to feel it. Working from coffee shops with headphones on feels like "bowling alone." He has a team he collaborates with, but he misses having someone next to him working on the same thing. He is still trying hard to avoid hiring full-time employees and keep the business simple. He warns that in this kind of work "you can create a job for yourself that you hate" by doing what others want or chasing opportunities that feel big, so he's careful about what he commits to.

Lenny says he's recognized in public often, especially around the Bay Area. It started with the podcast; during the four years before that, his face was only a small Twitter avatar. He calls it "extremely weird" but says he likes it, has never had a bad experience, and wants people to say hello. He usually asks strangers what their favorite episode or post is and what they do. When Michelle asks about interruptions at bad times, he says she may be projecting. Nearly everyone, "99%," has been considerate. His favorite encounter was in San Anselmo, when a man in a red car with his son stopped traffic to shout, "Lenny, I love your podcast." Lenny later ran into him at a coffee shop and learned he runs a hamburger club in Marin.

Recognition is complicated by Lenny's face blindness, which he calls "another brain disorder." He struggles with names and faces, so when someone greets him he often can't tell whether they know him personally or from the podcast. Michelle says she sometimes acts like the assistant in The Devil Wears Prada, whispering who someone is. Lenny apologizes in advance to anyone he fails to recognize and says it has gotten worse as he meets more people.

40:49

The most stressful business moment: a fraud attack

Asked about his most stressful business moment, Lenny describes his product pass, a subscriber perk that includes free access to 23 products such as Linear, Mobbin, Lovable, Replit, and Gamma. He used to read the full list at the end of each episode but stopped once it got too long.

About a year before the recording, he launched an offer of a free year of Cursor, Lovable, Bolt, Replit, and v0. He says the offer was "way too good" and attracted fraudsters, mostly organized fraud rings in China as it turned out. The offer also went viral in a Chinese student network. The attackers found exploits in the API his team had built, and Lenny had to work with Stripe and Substack to shut them down. His engineer, Estee, barely slept for a week while patching holes as new attacks appeared. Lenny says he slept badly throughout and feared the problem could escalate until the whole business fell apart if people decided they couldn't trust him anymore.

43:00

The scariest moment of his life: the birth

For his most stressful personal moment, Lenny describes their son's birth, which Michelle notes she can't tell herself because she wasn't conscious. The induction wasn't working, so Michelle needed a C-section. The plan was for the medical team to give the anesthetic and then bring Lenny in. He waited in the hallway in a sterile "bunny suit."

About five to ten minutes in, he heard a beep. The doctor ran out, scrubbed, and ran back in, and two other staff members rushed in from down the hall. For about ten minutes nobody told him anything, though he was supposed to have been called in within a minute. He paced the hall repeating "it's going to be okay" to himself and trying to trust that the doctors knew what they were doing. He connects this to the mental habits he described earlier, and Michelle notes he could otherwise have spiraled.

Eventually staff explained that the epidural had traveled up instead of down and was stopping Michelle's heart and lungs. The team performed an emergency intubation and delivered the baby. It took about an hour for Michelle to come back, and there were plans to move her to the ICU. Lenny says the anesthesiologist told them it was a one-in-50,000 event, a very rare and dangerous worst case, and that everyone praised how well the anesthesiologist handled it. Lenny calls it probably the scariest moment of his life.

Michelle's last memory is feeling her lungs go numb, saying she couldn't breathe, and passing out. She was under general anesthesia and learned the details only months later, when she read the report with her cousin Lois, a nurse. She says it's strange to have no experience of an event that was so intense for Lenny. During that hour, Lenny held their son. Michelle half-jokes that this is why the boy prefers "papa." Their doula had planned to attend but couldn't be present for a C-section.

47:34

Michelle's creative conditions: coffee, deadlines, sleep

Lenny asks about Michelle's process. He says her charts seem to appear from nowhere, followed by a little iteration. Michelle says coffee has to be the right amount, usually a single-shot latte. Too much makes her feel like a genius and then like she's having a panic attack. She has a chart about this, drawn with a coffee straw, which Lenny compares to xkcd's "Ballmer Peak," the idea that there is an optimal amount of alcohol for creativity. She describes an image she once saw, possibly not real, of a web spun by a spider on caffeine: erratic and tangential. Over-caffeinated moments produce good seeds of ideas, and then she needs to "scream into a pillow."

A deadline also helps, ideally around two hours. Thirty minutes is too short, and she admits her "time optimism" sometimes makes her late. She also needs a good night of sleep. Bad sleep plus too much caffeine gives her only frantic energy and no ideas. Finally, she needs experiences and time to think about them, almost too much. Lenny suggests "overthinking," a nod to her first book.

She draws ideas out in the simplest visual form she can, partly because she doesn't consider herself strong at drawing. She traces her mathematical way of thinking to her father, who did math, fractals, and pattern work with her as a child.

They also share an observation about their backgrounds. Michelle's family is from Venezuela, where her family still lives, and Lenny's is from Ukraine. People often react as if they had just arrived from those countries, and they sometimes have to reassure people that it's okay.

"Lenny" is his legal name

Prompted by a friend who calls him "Leonard," Michelle asks where "Lenny" comes from. Lenny, who was born in Odessa, says his official first name in the U.S. was Leonid but everyone called him Lenny. When the family became citizens, his parents legally changed it to Lenny. It isn't short for anything. He guesses that his parents asked friends for an English version of his Russian name and landed on Leonid, but he doesn't know whether it was named after anything. His family also uses a Russian diminutive nickname, which he asks strangers not to use.

Children's books and product management at home

Asked about favorite children's books, Lenny says their son decides the favorites. Lenny loves Jon Klassen's books. He first calls them sweet, then agrees with Michelle that "they all end in death." Their son now opens I Want My Hat Back by announcing that the bear ate the bunny. Both find Dr. Seuss too long, with too many invented animals when they're trying to teach real things about the world, though they enjoy the rhythm. Michelle reads to their son in Spanish.

On whether product management carries over to parenting, Lenny jokes that PM is all about influence and so is parenting. The difference, he says, is that a PM has "all the responsibility without the authority," while parents do have authority. Michelle says she sees the PM in how he structures routines: a set bedtime plan with three books and a star chart, based on what he read in books. Lenny says he isn't "an intuition guy." He looks for what the smartest people have already worked out, since plenty of parents have tried to shorten bedtime before. Michelle says it sometimes works and sometimes doesn't.

55:33

Product management in five words

Michelle says that after about ten years together she still doesn't know what product management is, and asks for five words. Lenny gives "impact, collaboration, judgment, alignment," adds "coordination," then keeps going with "organizing, planning, outcomes" until she tunes out. He admits he got "sniped" by the question and wants to keep thinking about it.

His longer definition is that a PM's job is to deliver business impact by prioritizing and solving the most impactful business problems. Michelle bans "mini CEO," but Lenny says he actually thinks the label fits, even though people keep saying otherwise. The PM should think the way the CEO thinks: the CEO's job is to make the business grow, so the PM should channel what would help their product and team make the business more successful. In his own business, he says, he is "everything," including editor-in-chief, though he has an editor and a copy editor.

Asked what from product management helped him in his current work, Lenny says honestly, nothing specific, beyond traits he already had: being organized, holding a high bar for quality, and communicating points succinctly so people grasp them. Michelle notes this matches her own emphasis on simplicity.

58:25

Why a children's book, and why experience matters

Lenny asks why Michelle moved from adult books to a children's book. She says charts naturally combine early-learning concepts. Children's books often teach opposites, colors, shapes, and feelings, and a chart can show big and small, up and down, overlapping colors making new colors, and many feelings. A second book in the series, focused on feelings, is finished and due out the following year. She had wanted to do a children's book in the abstract, but it only came once the rhyming cadence took hold while she was working on another adult book. The first draft came quickly.

She also connects the book to her father, a geophysicist who wanted her to be strong at math at a time when girls often weren't encouraged to be. She does the same with their son, showing him patterns. Raising him shaped the book: she learned how to teach him things, and as he got older that experience fed the feelings book. She also learned how to talk to children. Before having kids she tried to write a children's book, and she doesn't think it was as good.

Lenny ties this to an idea they've discussed often: the best work comes from real experience. Michelle adds the familiar advice that to write, you should read, and they read many children's books. Lenny says the same principle has been key to his newsletter. Most of his posts are now guest posts in which someone shares the best thing they've learned in their career. He focuses on practitioners "on the ground doing the thing," not people "floating in the clouds pontificating," because he considers practitioners the source of the best advice. Michelle adds communicating simply, and Lenny adds refining.

1:02:30

Iteration: five passes versus fifty

Michelle describes the stressful part of her process. She makes things she isn't sure are good enough, sets them aside, and returns later, sometimes with the missing idea, sometimes to find someone else has published something similar first.

Lenny asks how many iterations she does on a chart. Her median is at least five. His is much higher: he estimates he reads through a newsletter post about 50 times, adding and improving each time, before his editor, copy editor, and designer work on it. Michelle's guess was 100, and he says that may be the real answer. Michelle says she physically couldn't do that. She adds that she did many iterations on Charts for Babies, and they recall a line from a former boss, Vlad: "spend more time on it."

The conversation ends with the book's details. Charts for Babies comes out April 7, and Michelle suggests an age range of roughly zero to four. She shows its endpapers, which list the concepts it covers, including sizes, shapes, lines, numbers, directions, feelings, colors, amounts, sharing, relationships, and opposites. The main point the two return to throughout is that good work comes from real experience, is communicated simply, and is refined through many rounds of iteration. The open question Lenny leaves unanswered is where a weekly newsletter-and-podcast life goes in the long run, when he may no longer be able to keep up with the boulder.