Welcome, hustler, side-hustler, or just-surviving-inflation survivor. Today’s episode: how to craft a Business Plan just irresistible enough that an “angel investor” (aka—rich person with trust issues) might actually bet on you instead of… literally any other human with a Gmail account. If you think angel investors like risk, just remember: their idea of risk is ordering oat milk in their latte. So, if you’re ready to parade your hopes, dreams, and best Canva charts, let’s break down EXACTLY what goes into a business plan that gets funded—or at least gets you ghosted politely.

The Executive Summary: Pitch-Perfect… but Under 90 Seconds (Because Their Attention Span = TikTok Reel)

First impressions? You only get one. The “executive summary” is Wall Street’s version of “hey, quick question.” You want money? This is your Hail Mary.

• What are you doing—and why do you sound so pumped about it?
• Is there really a market, or did you just consult your group chat and your cat?
• How much money are you asking for? (No, “as much as you’ll give me” isn’t a number.)
• When will everyone be yacht-rich (ideally by Q4)?

Bold truth: If your summary reads like a dating app bio (“passionate about growth, big on vision, not into red flags”), you’re halfway there.

Side note: If your summary gives off “corporate Mad Libs” vibes, at least make the closing sentence a meme-worthy mic drop.

The Problem, Solution, and Why TikTok Cares

Let’s be honest: Nobody invests if the “problem” is “sometimes I’m bored on weekends.” Level up the drama.

• Pain Point: Make it hurt. “Lost productivity costs America $1 gazillion a year!” Sure, Jan.
• Your Unique Solution: Is it an app? A tech thing nobody understands? A new way to deliver boba on demand? (Critical: sound more impressive than a Starbucks secret menu.)
• Why now? Does the market actually care, or is it all fueled by boredom and FOMO?
• Proof people want this: Screenshots, pre-sales, your TikTok with 300K views. (Your mom’s group chat… probably doesn’t count.)

Reminder: If you can’t explain it to your grandma before she finishes her soup, you need to simplify. If TikTok can’t meme it, go less niche.

Team: Convincing Angels You Didn’t Just Recruit via Craigslist

Let’s address the $500,000 question: Can your ragtag crew do anything? Investors don’t want your “energy”—they want a team that might, maybe, allegedly execute a plan.

Checklist:

• Bios with drama: Did your cofounder “survive two startups and three bad breakups”? Star power.
• “Advisors”: The more mysterious the title, the better. (“Strategic Growth Visionary” or “Chief Vibes Officer”—classic.)
• Track record: List wins, even if it’s “won hackathon in 12th grade.”
• And if most of your team is “remote” (read: wherever Starbucks Wi-Fi is strong), just say you’re “tech-forward.” That’s code for “bootstrapped but dreaming, baby.”

Pro tip: Angels want to see that someone (anyone) besides you might have a clue what’s happening if you’re hit by an emotional bus.

The Business Model: How Are You Actually Getting Paid? (Yes, Investors DO Care!)

Ah, the part where delusion meets Excel. Your Business Plan needs to spell out exactly how you’ll turn hope and hustle into sweet, investable cash:

• Is it SaaS, direct-to-consumer, D2D (door-to-door, but Gen Z rebranded), or “just doing what Uber did but with plants”?
• Money flows: Where is it coming from? Is there recurring revenue, subscriptions, ads, or “the influencer side hustle to subsidize initial launch”?
• Pricing: Will anyone pay, or will you just offer a “90-day free trial” and forget the “trial” part?
• Customer: Can you show demographics that aren’t just “18 to 35, lives on Instagram, shops when bored”?

Paste in your “this is how we won’t accidentally bankrupt ourselves” slide here. Investors LOVE a scalable model. It’s just a word, but write it in bold. Everywhere.

Traction: Tell Them You’ve Done More Than Just Manifest It

Angels invest in “traction.” Twitter follows and LLC paperwork don’t count. Real traction looks like:

• Revenue. (If you have even $18.50 of it, flex hard.)
• Users. Even lurkers or free sign-ups count if you spin it right (“Waitlist of 700; 4 are real, rest are probably bots but shhh.”)
• Buzz. Press mentions, viral TikToks, or that time your ex “liked” your product page.
• Partnerships—especially with people who are “kind of a big deal” in LinkedIn headlines.

If your only traction is “planning to launch soon,” just “project” some numbers and say “early interest is strong.” (Confidence is key. Reality is… negotiable.)

The Ask: Money, Equity, and a Dash of Shamelessness

The climax of every Business Plan for angel investors: Ask straight up.

• How much are you asking for, down to the penny? (“$432,222.22” is oddly persuasive, no idea why.)
• What sacrificial offering of equity are you dangling? (At this stage, be honest with yourself: “minority interest” means nothing is minor until Series B.)
• Break it down:
  • How will you spend it? (“Development: 50%, Marketing: 40%, Therapy after launch: 10%”)
  • How long does this cash last before you show up again in their DMs?

Don’t forget to include what’s in it for them. If your answer is just “mad clout and future yacht invitations,” you’re almost there.

Financials: Because Hope Is Not a Number, Sorry

Put on your grown-up pants. Angel investors want proof you know how numbers work (or at least that you can copy-paste into an Excel sheet):

• Three-year projections. Make the lines go up. Down is a mood, not a plan.
• Burn rate: How fast are you torching cash? (Hint: Don’t say “one Pumpkin Cream Cold Brew per day.”)
• Unit economics: How much do you lose on every sale before “scale” allegedly fixes it?
• Break-even: The mythical day when the business stops eating money, now forecast at “sometime before Elon buys the moon.”

If your spreadsheet has a tab called “Wishful Thinking,” rename it “Growth Forecast.”

The Appendix: Where Hopes, Dreams, and Unread Attachments Go to Die

No one, and I mean NO ONE, reads the appendix. But if you forget it, someone will demand it:

• Incorporation docs
• Letters from “partners” who may never return your email
• Screenshots of customer reviews (even if they’re all from your aunt Connie)
• Mysterious charts to prove you’ve “done the math”

Also a good place for burying early UI wireframes you made before you discovered actual design skills.

Conclusion: Congratulations, You’re Now Sufficiently Anxious

If you read this far, you’ve absorbed more about Business Plans than most “founders” yelling on Clubhouse. Writing for angel investors is equal parts wild optimism, half-hearted math, and ALL ABOUT looking credible while quietly panicking. Will this win you funding? Maybe. Will you survive the process? Unknown.

If your pitch bombs, remember: At least you got structure, some bullet points, and maybe a few new memes. Also—real talk—your dream needs a plan, not just an energy drink and a Canva template. Now go get that angel money. Or, at the very least, a free coffee from your “network.”