The Invisible Hand of Synchronicity

Skater Ghost by Daniela Semeco

San Francisco is a power spot. What is born here can live forever. Coast redwood trees are an example: When they die, as long as their roots are alive, they will grow back genetically identical. That's why they're called Sequoia Sempervirens, which means everlasting sequoia. San Francisco, also symbolized by the Phoenix, is a place where ideas converge, innovation is born, and these things are then propelled out into the universe.

Throughout my entrepreneurial journey, I've experienced many instances of synchronicity. The invisible hand has saved my company from the valley of death and laid stepping stones to help us through the patent process at our earliest stage. We've been bootstrapping for three years, and we've filed a provisional patent, non-provisional patent, patent cooperation treaty, and three trademark registrations. It all began with $250 and a dream.

I arrived in San Francisco in February 2011 after having lived in Berlin for a year. I'd completed an internship in art galleries as part of my studies in France. I wanted so much to stay in Berlin, but I wasn't granted a work permit, although I had landed a well-paying interpretation job. Having to leave Berlin was devastating, and I was so tired of having to deal with bureaucracy and paperwork that I decided to move to San Francisco to live like a hippie.

I arrived at my father’s house in Georgia, where I first came up with my invention. I was with my father in the car, joking around about my idea for a multi-language keyboard. Racking my brains trying to figure out how to fit five languages on a single keyboard layout, I asked him half seriously: “What if I made a key that would turn things upside-down, like the parenthesis, and the brackets‽”

He replied, “That would be really great for Spanish, with the upside-down question mark and exclamation point.”

That was my ‘ah ha’ moment. The next step was me rushing to the computer and researching the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office website for anything that resembled this, and it didn’t exist!

All of a sudden, when I looked to the future, it no longer seemed uncertain. It was like the sun had come out on the horizon. I made my father swear he wouldn’t tell a living soul, and I kept it secret for a year and a half before I was able to file my first provisional patent. I paid off the last of my student loan from one year of studies at Indiana University. That’s when I felt ready to begin the patent process.

I wrote my first provisional patent myself. Then, I made an appointment for a free initial consultation with a patent attorney. I drilled him with questions for an hour about the patent process. Shortly afterward, we began working together. I came up with a logo and a name for my multilingual keyboard. We filed the POLYGLOTTE trademark registrations. I was working as a tour guide at the time, and at one point I asked my attorneys how much this was all going to cost.

“On average, it costs $10K to file a utility patent”, my patent lawyer said.

The provisional patent would expire in a few months. I looked at my salary, did the math, and realized there was a problem. I had a few rich friends in San Francisco, whom I asked for $5,000. They said no. I felt desperate. I considered selling my body.  Then, one night, I went to the inaugural dinner for VoKü (short for Volks Küche or the ‘people’s kitchen’). My friend and housemate at the time founded the San Francisco version of this originally German free-dinner-and-entertainment event. I was served a delicious vegan meal, and as I sat down, I introduced myself to a young woman: “Hi, my name is Daniela. I’m an inventor. What’s your name?”

“My name is Cora. Do you pay for intellectual property?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, stop,” she said. “I work for the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights, and we can connect you with lawyers who will work pro bono.”

“What‽” I thought. I couldn’t believe it.

I applied for the legal services for entrepreneurs program offered by the LCCR (Lawyers' Committee for Civil Rights) and was accepted. I must have been the happiest person in San Francisco. Shortly afterward, I had a launch party, where I announced my invention to the world for the first time. That's where I met my mentor, Stan Osborne, who was invited to the launch party by Cristian, the founder of VoKü-SF (and my good luck charm). Stan would later introduce me to some of his closest friends on the West Coast, Gerard and Diane Cerchio. Gerard is now my mentor and computerist. That's how it all came together like synchronicity.

It only takes one person to change your life, and sometimes that person ends up being one of your best friends.