For those unfamiliar with the term, the “Valley of Death” is that charming stretch of time where a startup wanders through a desolate wasteland of emptying bank accounts, increasing credit lines, unreturned investor calls, long sales cycles and dwindling optimism—where some of the best ideas go to die, and only the most stubborn (or delusional) survive. It’s the business world’s version of a horror flick: most don’t make it out alive, and those who do are never quite the same.

For those who’ve experienced it, it’s a deeply uncomfortable period, one that becomes increasingly difficult to navigate as the pressing realities of reduced personal cashflow for founders and leaders begins to result in fragmented focus, as side hustles begin to dominate our attention.

I’ve been here more than once over the last thirty years. Sometimes I’ve found a path through it, and at others I haven’t.

A lot of funders will say that this is where you have the opportunity to distinguish yourself from your competition. Do you have grit? Hustle? Stickability? Are you willing to eat your young in order to find a path forward? Anything less may be considered evidence of insufficient or wavering commitment.

But only sociopaths and the very young can persistently act without fear.

“A man who fears nothing is a man who loves nothing; and if you love nothing, what joy is there in your life?”

~ First Knight

But for ethical entrepreneurs who believe that everything related to their business is a requirement, this sort of thinking is antithetical to their long-term viability. After all how we change the world matters as much as that we do.

Most impact entrepreneurs I’ve worked with refuse the false dichotomy that they must either be willing to sacrifice, or lose, everything.

The hardest reality we all need to face is that (according to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics) less than 30% of businesses will survive ten years.

Over a decade ago I delivered the following as part of a keynote at a social enterprise conference on the subject of failure:

“You're going to work 80-100 hours a week, make virtually no money, spend what little money you have on a crazy idea that - at the beginning at least - virtually nobody will understand - your relationships will suffer, your health will suffer, you'll replace the friends you had with fourteen cups of coffee a day, you'll feel ignored, hated, beaten down and vilified and at some point you are going to ask yourself 'why the f**k do i bother?'

You'll chew your fingernails raw while you keep telling yourself how important this work is, you'll sell your dog, your cat, your vintage '67 Gibson, your collection of mint-condition star-trek figurines, your grandmother's china and, without too much convincing, your soul. You'll beg, borrow and steal every cent, every second of attention, every scrap of wisdom. You'll martyr yourself in service to your cause.

Then, one day, you'll roll out of bed, put on a Smiths album - vinyl, of course - listen to 'there is a light that will never go out' on repeat and, despite the screaming of 'first world problem' in your mind you will, quite simply, give up.

You'll cry a lot, eat too much icecream and drink too much wine, you'll sleep in, go for long walks, go to the gym, get a new haircut, a new lover and maybe some new clothes.

Eventually you'll join Changemakers Anonymous where, one night under the blaze of the halogens, you'll be commiserating with another recovering changemaker ... and suddenly you'll find yourself in a cafe at 2am, hopped on too much espresso (martini) and the walls start shaking, the earth starts quaking, your mind starts aching and before you know it you're shaking it all night long, scribbling notes on napkins while the seeds of the next new crazy idea erupt into the world.

And then, despite what you know, you'll do it all over again.”

While my perspective has certainly shifted somewhat (due in large part to burning out twice in the last five years) the undeniable reality for impact entrepreneurs is that we do what we do because we are impelled to - not compelled due to outside forces, but impelled due to internal ones. And that as long as the problems we see in the world persist, we will persist in seeking ways to address them.

Unfortunately, a little too much Silicon Valley startup culture has crept into the world of impact entrepreneurship - and while I absolutely agree with those elements that demand a more rigorous approach to the business of change, the idea of the three P’s for an organisation that finds itself in crisis - Persist, Pivot or Perish - seems woefully inadequate.

In the interests of a ruthless dedication to Purpose, I believe there are at least two more options that provide an organisation with the flexibility required to achieve it.

What if, instead of getting locked into the dominant view that success is linear, we respected that organisations, like people, go through periods of change - and that there must be alternatives to driving bullishly forward, radically changing direction, or falling on our swords.

What if we also considered a period of rest, or an opportunity to deepen our capacity by working more deliberately with others?

Persist: recommit to the existing strategy, believing it will eventually succeed.

Pause: temporarily halt operations or a specific strategy to regroup, reassess, or wait for better conditions before making a more informed decision.

Partner: coordinate your efforts with others who are seeking to achieve similar outcomes, and thus strengthen your position and heighten your success together.

Pivot: significantly change the strategy, product, or approach to adapt to new circumstances.

Perish: cease operations and shut down the business.

I believe that robust public discourse is essential, and that ethical entrepreneurs can and should find ways to learn from each others challenges and successes. Please share your experience with navigating the valley of death in the comments below.