Bones and Soul (2): Building a Startup Ecosystem for the Long Haul
- Michael Bob Starr
- 8 hours ago
- 6 min read
Part II: Soul – How Stewardship and Place Bring Structure to Life
This essay was originally published on Substack in February 2026.
In Part I, I described the bones of an emerging startup ecosystem in Abilene, Texas —the structures, governance, and discipline needed to turn entrepreneurial ambition into something durable. But as those structures begin to take shape, the character of a place starts to matter more and more, influencing not just what gets built, but how decisions are made.
By mid-2025, I was exploring different models for supporting founders and trying to understand which approaches would be well suited to Abilene’s character and constraints. Two viable paths were in front of me, each capable of contributing meaningfully to the city’s emerging startup ecosystem — and each offering a way to retain entrepreneurial talent. I couldn’t pursue both at once. I had to decide what should come first.
That kind of decision-making isn’t unusual in startups. What made it different here was the place. Abilene isn’t a city that rewards speed for its own sake, and there’s very little patience for hype.
We’re not impressed by the hat — we want to see the cattle first.
Those traits shaped not just what I chose to pursue, but how I went about it.
As I explored how best to support local founders, I kept returning to the example of our relationship with the Central Texas Angel Network (CTAN). Its success wasn’t just about capital; it created a disciplined, repeatable way for local investors to engage responsibly with early-stage companies. That partnership had been championed locally by Douglas Peters, CCE, IOM, CEO of both the Abilene Regional Growth Alliance (ARGA -- on LinkedIn as Grow Abilene) and The Abilene Chamber of Commerce , who helped identify CTAN as a strong fit for Abilene and proposed the collaboration. I kept him informed of my quest to find a similar kind of partner for founders, one that provided structure without uprooting them from the place they were trying to build.
That search began with research, but it quickly became relational. I began following the work of Paul O'Brien, a startup advocate based in Austin who publishes The Startup Economist. I liked what he had to say, so I sent him a cold message. I wasn’t sure he would even respond. But he did.
On our first call, I began by describing the kinds of programs and models I was exploring. Paul listened, then gently redirected the conversation. Rather than focusing on structures, he asked about the place itself — about Abilene, its history, and what had changed. The conversation shifted from what I was trying to build to where I was trying to build it, and why that mattered.
I’m still not sure whether Paul immediately saw the same potential in Abilene that I did or was simply intrigued by the audacity of the idea. Either way, he offered to help by writing about Abilene’s potential in his newsletter, an article that was well received both within Abilene and beyond.
Around the same period, Doug Peters — who, in addition to leading Abilene’s local business community, was then serving as chair of the Texas Chamber of Commerce Executives (TCCE) — invited me to speak at the TCCE annual meeting in Denton. He asked me to sit on a panel to highlight Abilene’s partnership with CTAN and how we were leveraging that relationship to promote regional innovation. Paul mentioned he would be attending the conference as well, so we agreed to meet in person.
Between sessions, we talked about his article and the steps I was taking locally. I mentioned that I was exploring the possibility of launching a Founder Institute chapter (FI). He was encouraging and offered to arrange a call with FI’s head of expansion. As we were about to part ways, he added something almost in passing, an echo from his previous article: “If I were you, I’d look into starting a venture studio.”
I admitted I’d never even heard the term. Paul explained that he was planning to publish an article on the subject soon and suggested I read it before deciding anything. When that article appeared, I read it carefully and was immediately intrigued. The venture studio model addressed a constraint I’d been wrestling with: how to bring experienced operators into a young ecosystem without pretending that experience already existed locally — importing judgment while keeping founders rooted in place.
Wanting to understand the model in practice, I posted a request on LinkedIn to be connected with anyone who had recently started a venture studio. Paul tagged Matthew Burris, who reached out to ask what kind of studio I wanted to build. I told him the truth — I was too new to the concept to answer — and instead described my broader vision for building an ecosystem in the Big Country. In Abilene, credibility comes less from having the right answer and more from being honest about what you don’t yet know.
Only later did I realize Matthew was also a partner at the 9point8 Collective, a group that specializes in launching venture studios. After reading my response, he suggested continuing the conversation with another member of the 9point8 team.
By coincidence, my call with 9point8 and my follow-up call with the Founder Institute’s head of expansion fell on the same day. Both organizations were thoughtful and credible. In an ideal world, I would have pursued both paths at once. In reality, I had to choose which one would come first.
The Founder Institute model, like most incubators, assumes the presence of other ecosystem players to support new ventures — particularly a deep bench of experienced founders who can serve as mentors. In more mature startup communities, that assumption makes sense. In Abilene, where that supporting infrastructure was still emerging, it posed a real constraint.
The venture studio model offered a more holistic approach. Rather than depending on a fully formed ecosystem, it integrates entrepreneurial, operational, and financial support within a single institution. Experience isn’t assumed; it’s deliberately brought in. For a young ecosystem, that distinction matters.
In my mind, that made a venture studio the better choice – not as a replacement for other programs, but as an anchor. It provided a way to concentrate judgment, capital, and responsibility early, creating a stable foundation on which the rest of Abilene’s startup ecosystem could grow.
After discussing this direction with Doug Peters, I proposed a 90-day exploratory engagement for ARGA to underwrite a partnership with 9point8. The purpose was deliberately narrow: to test whether Abilene could support a venture studio, and if so, what form it should take. The proposal was reviewed and approved by ARGA’s board, and the work began.
Soon after, I met with the 9point8 team, whose approach emphasized listening first. The initial phase of the engagement focused on understanding the community – its history, culture, strengths, and limits. Understanding before prescribing wasn’t a differentiator but a prerequisite — a posture that mirrors what works in Abilene more broadly: respect the place before trying to shape it.
Early on, I asked the 9point8 consultants how I should think about my role in all of this. Their answer was honest: they didn’t know yet. They were clear that every ecosystem has a local champion, but that champion doesn’t always lead the institutions that emerge. The right answer, they said, would surface with time.
At the end of that first month, they concluded Abilene was a strong candidate for a venture studio – and recommended that I serve as its executive director.
I already knew what I wanted to call it. Paul had once said, “How cool would it be for a startup ecosystem to emerge from the place known for the Abilene Paradox? If it were me, I’d start a venture studio and call it Paradox Ventures!” The name Paradox Ventures was already taken, so I adjusted slightly and settled on The Paradox Lab.
The studio didn’t emerge fully formed from a model. It’s taking the shape of the people, relationships, and values that already define this place – disciplined, generous, and oriented toward service over spectacle.
With the bones of the ecosystem in place and its soul beginning to show, the work shifted again. Structure and culture had to be translated into intent. Alongside 9point8, I focused on defining the studio’s posture — its investment thesis, its mission and values, its pace of company creation, and the scale of its ambition. These decisions would determine whether the studio became just another program or a durable institution.
Choosing the latter meant accepting a longer horizon and a higher standard of responsibility. That work — building something meant to last — is where the long haul truly begins.
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