I’ve already spoken about why I became a developer and offered some insights into how you might be able to transition from architecture into development. So now I’d like to start focusing more on the day-to-day of what it means to be a real estate developer.

And since I seem to be getting a lot of questions from readers on career and development related topics, I’ve decided that I’m going to turn these posts into a regular blog series. Right now the working name is “Developer Dirt”, but if you have a better name I’m all ears (let me know in the comments below).

So let’s start with step 1.

You’re ready to develop a new project and you’re now in the market for some land (also known as a site). It could be a greenfield site (meaning it’s virgin land that hasn’t yet been tainted by humans) or, on the other end of the spectrum, it could a brownfield site (meaning it probably once housed industry, it’s contaminated as all hell, and you’re going to need to clean that puppy up before you build).

Without going into further detail about all the different kinds of sites you could potentially buy (which is a post in itself), here are 3 high level things to keep in mind as you move forward.

Land is the residual claimant

What this means is that you want to start with your top line. You want to start with revenue. What can I build on this site (use and square feet) and how much can I ultimately sell or lease that space for?

Let’s say, for example, that you think you can build 100,000 square feet. If it were office space, you’d want to know that rents in your area are $30 per square feet and that that’s going to render you $3M a year in rental income. If it were residential condos, you’d want to know that the market is absorbing $500 per square foot and that if you sold 100,000 square feet worth of condo, that your revenue would be $50M. But remember this is top line.

Once you know your top line, you then need to figure out what it’s going to cost to bring you that revenue stream. In other words, what are the hard costs (construction costs), the soft costs (consultant fees and other non-construction costs), the return my investors are going to demand, the money I need to keep the lights on in my business, and so on.

Hopefully, once you’ve calculated all of these numbers, you’ll have some money left over from that original top line number. That residual money is what you can reasonably afford to pay for the land, which is why it’s often referred to as the residual claimant. But even though it comes last in this example, it comes first in development. If you overpay at the onset, it’ll be an uphill battle the rest of the way.

You often don’t know what you can build

But here’s the rub: You often don’t know exactly what you can build. When developers buy land they often consider what they can build “as-of-right” and what they think they can build as a result of variances, rezoning and other discretionary actions.

As-of-right basically refers to what the current zoning permits. It’s what you could go out tomorrow and build (after you get the requisite permits of course). Unfortunately though, as-of-right uses and densities are not often inline with what’s actually happening in a neighborhood. So you need to go into the city for things like a zoning by-law amendment.

Similarly, vendors want the most for their land and so they’re going to be aggressive on this front. As a developer, this is the point where you surround yourself with a team of smart people who can help you figure out what’s reasonably attainable for the site in question. And sometimes you have to worry about the politics as much as the planning.

Approvals are uncertain

During the due diligence phase, the goal is obviously to mitigate as much of your risk as possible. Nobody wants to get stuck with a piece of land that they overpaid for that they now can’t (profitably) develop. But sometimes shit happens.

It may seem like a no brainer. You could have a site that’s surrounded by transit with lots of great precedences (this matters) for the height and density that you’re hoping to obtain and that you feel will be appropriate for the neighborhood. But sometimes the stars don’t align.

And that’s why development is a risky game.

Last week I provided a few suggestions for how architects might be able to transition over to real estate development. And I ended by saying that I loved architecture school, but that it could use a few more business and entrepreneurship classes. Today, I’d liked to expand on that idea.

When I was doing my Master of Architecture at Penn, I spent a lot of time thinking about hybrid models for the architecture profession. I was trying to figure out a way to reconcile my love of design with my desire to be more of a building entrepreneur.

I was interested in what Jonathan Segal was doing down in San Diego with his “architect as developer" approach. And I was really taken by a lecture that Joshua Prince-Ramus (formerly of OMA, now REX) gave where he talked about how architects have marginalized themselves (away from being the master builder) by shying away from liability.

Out of all the models, conflating architecture and development seems to me like a real possibility. I believe that good developers understand good design and that good architects understand what’s good for the market. So why not merge the two?

We know that the architecture profession is facing significant challenges; fewer and fewer architecture school grads are getting licensed and actually become a bona fide architect. Some think this calls for licensure reform, but I’m also interested in revisiting the model in its entirety.

Imagine if every architecture school taught students how to design a building and then go out and actually get it leased up and built. Is this too much to ask of one discipline?

I can see firms naturally splitting up roles between those who prefer the design side and those who prefer the selling and business side, but is there any reason why the same firm couldn’t be handling both?

A few years ago during a class at the Rotman School when we were all introducing ourselves, I had a professor ask why all architects seem to want to become developers. He asked it because there were 3 architects (or at least architect-trained) in the class who were either currently working in development or planning to move into development following their MBA.

Indeed, it is pretty common for architects to make this jump. So much so that I’m often asked (as recently as last night) about how I made the transition from architecture to development. Given the frequency of this question, I figured it would be worthwhile to turn my response into a blog post—particularly since I did make the decision to write more about what it means to be a developer.

The first thing I should say is that I’ve never really worked as an architect. I interned at an architecture firm one summer, but that’s about it. I’m not licensed as an architect and I have no plans of ever becoming licensed. Therefore, I’m technically not allowed to call myself one, which is why I often say “architect-trained.”

However, this doesn’t mean that I didn’t face a certain degree of stigmatization while I was completing my Master of Architecture and looking for my first real estate job. The real estate community often perceives architects as being impractical, fanciful and generally poor with money and business.

Part of this, I think, has to the with the fact that design schools often don’t like to talk about making money. It’s taboo. Design is supposed to be something purer and grander than money. Maybe that’s why it’s not uncommon for even the most famous of architects—such as Louis Kahn—to die deeply in debt.

But I think this perspective is bullshit. Which is why I spent every single one of my electives during my Master of Architecture over at the business school taking finance, economics and real estate classes. I was determined to be just as good as the MBAs at “the numbers.” And even became a teaching assistant for a real estate economics class.

So my first piece of advice to architects looking to make the transition to development is that you need to overcome the perception that you don’t understand money and business. You need to demonstrate that you can crunch numbers and that you know how to make money for investors.

This could mean getting an MBA or Master of Real Estate Development, taking extracurricular classes, starting a blog, or just convincing somebody in real estate to give you a chance so that you have it on your resume. Whatever it is, you need to reposition your personal brand so that it no longer says architect.

This is important because, from my experience, if a real estate company is used to hiring people with business degrees, then it’s going to be tough to get them to pay attention to you and your architecture degree. They just don’t understand the value that you might be able to bring to the organization (and you do bring value).

My second piece of advice is to find developers who have an architecture background and specifically reach out to them. There are lots of us. They’ll be sympathetic to your background and will probably give you more time of day. But you’ll need to come prepared with the right tool chest. Demonstrate to them that you have the skills necessary to be a developer (see above).

As I’ve said before, developers are, in many ways, a jack of all trades. So the more you can master all of those trades, the more likely you’ll get some hiring manager to take a risk on you. But when you do finally make that transition, I believe that you’ll be better for it.

Not only because architects understand the building process, but because architects are trained to have an inherent sense of responsibility for the built environment. We get upset when building are ugly and public spaces suck. But we also know what will make them better.

The way I see it, by becoming a developer you’re really just learning how to execute on your ideas. It’s one thing to know what makes a building beautiful, but it’s another thing to go out and raise the capital and build the damn thing.

So I don’t regret any of my architecture degrees. I got so much out of them. And I firmly believe that design is only going to become more important. Designers, after all, are the new rock stars. We just need a few more business and entrepreneurship classes in architecture schools.