craft, fundraising industry

Knowing Your Enemy

Today’s entry was inspired by Kristina Leroux’s post, Writing Assignment: Knowing Your Enemy, on the Nonprofit Marketing Guide blog. She challenged the reader to personify the enemy, whether that enemy is homelessness, apathy, greed, sloth, or something else. During an AFP event a few weeks ago I heard from Jim Schallom at Sherwood Forest that the enemy for fundraisers is “Starbucks”, or the general consumerist mindset. That’s been on my mind, and this challenge completely integrated my fundraising and fiction writing minds.

So here it is:

Dee Dee versus The StarBuck

In the still morning light, before the armies massed at the opposite edges of the valley slopes are fully awake, Edie and Dee Dee walk carefully along a dew-covered path. “I know you’re scared, Dee Dee”, says Edie. “But I believe in you. You’ve been preparing for this moment a long time.” She grasps Dee Dee’s shoulder, and the connection immediately encourages Dee Dee’s troubled heart.

“Yes,” she admits. She doesn’t want to fear, she trusts her training, and she knows that she is on the good side in this fight. But the idea of her upcoming battle with The StarBuck, their nemesis, the bane of their existence, looms large in her mind. She stoops down to the path and gathers a handful of pebbles, dumping them into her supply sack at her waist. Still… “Yes, I’m scared. I know how important this is to all of us.”

“I believe in you,” Edie says. “I wouldn’t have trusted you with such responsibility otherwise.” Dee Dee knows she is telling the truth, and yet the challenge still brings butterflies to her stomach.

Their brief walk returns Edie and Dee Dee to their army’s campsite. Tents fill the small plain in haphazard clumps; volunteers, advocates, and employees alike wander throughout, preparing for the day. A buzz of conversation rises over the morning cookfires, and any who see them give a smile. Today is the day. It is the start of the Annual Campaign. And for the first time Dee Dee, instead of Edie, is to lead the charge.

Across the valley the enemy waits. They go by many names and nicknames, but the most common is “The Something Betters”. That is, everyone over there always has something better to do with their time, their money, their advocacy, than to give it to this side over here, where there is good to be done. Something better like a phone upgrade. Something better like a new automobile lease. Something better like an extra manicure this month, because, well, reasons.

Edie and Dee Dee, though, lead the army fighting the battle to save local homeless animals, to provide them places to live and to provide loving companions for their human partners. They work to make all lives better in the community, not just provide a little more entertainment. And it is sometimes disappointing to see how little progress gets made.

Because so many of the surrounding villagers just don’t know what’s happening. They don’t know of this battle waged here, in this Valley of Public Opinion, to keep the shelters open. They don’t know how the battle is fought for the division of wallets and attention, every day, every week, ever month, every year. They of course have time to keep up with all about the latest government scandals, they know what’s happening half a continent away in the fashion capital of the world, and yet so much opportunity is missed here at home to make a better life with such a small effort. Edie and Dee Dee and their army fight, every day, against the Something Betters, in order to bring about that satisfying community that everyone so deserves.

Today Dee Dee will meet The StarBuck, at noon, in the middle of the plain, to do battle, to fight, to compete for the attention of the world. Should she triumph, her shelter will have earned yet another temporary reprieve. Temporary, for there will always be another Something Better coming along to take its place, and the fight will wage on. Should she fail… Well, that is an option too tragic to consider.

The sun beats hard on the plain as the two armies begin their descent. Dee Dee leads her pack, Edie follows at the rear. Across the way, she can see that The StarBuck, her rival, leading a similar army. She gathers her nerve; this is most important. All those behind her are counting on her to deliver.

They approach, these massed brigades, to support their avatars in this battle. They know that their future, too, hinges on the success or failure of the two who represent them. They stop and wait, in silent anticipation, tension building as Dee Dee and The StarBuck approach one another.

The StarBuck is large, three feet taller than Dee Dee at least. His stout body and broad shoulders bear leather armor destined to rebut the slights of opinion arrows pointed at him. Everyone knows his reputation, too, as a thief, arms snatching coins from unsuspecting consumers with a little drip here, a little dab there, insidiously expanding his effect every day. His armor is decorated with hundreds, perhaps a thousand, shiny baubles proclaiming themselves the Newest! Cheapest! Fastest! Best! He attracts his prey, and they come close, close enough for him to rob their pockets while they are distracted, and after he leaves them wondering just where all their money went.

Dee Dee is armed, though, with her weapons of choice. The stones in her sack represent all her tools, all her little tricks she has picked up along the years. She knows she will not convince The StarBuck to retreat with words, so she remains silent while he shouts.

“Ha ha, little one!” His voice rings out over the masses. “You have nothing. Nothing! What do you give them?” He sweeps an arm to indicate the whole world. “Better? Faster? Tastier? No! Not even a guarantee. You give them nothing! You should walk away now, before we destroy you forever.” He sneers, and Dee Dee can see the bright white of his teeth, many shades whiter than normal, only available through the latest and greatest bleaching technique. He reaches into his pack and pulls out a mug, tossing it across the space to her. It bounces and spills, double-mocha extra whip foaming across the grass. “Here,” he says, “drown your sorrows in that and be gone.”

Dee Dee stares at the pointless waste, and says nothing. Instead, she reaches into her sack and takes out a stone. On it are etched the words “Direct Mail Campaign: 345 adoptions last year”. She places the stone into her sling, winds, and fires, the missile aiming directly for The StarBuck’s exposed head. It strikes him on the chin and rocks him backwards. The next says “Case Study: How We Educated 912 With FREE Classes”, and it connects with his temple. The StarBuck is wounded, dizzy, staggering. She loads up yet another.

“E-mail follow-up: Partnerships with hundreds of businesses and thousands of volunteers” flies across the space, strikes the StarBuck at the cheek, and spins him around. He staggers but does not fall. His strength and resilience are evident. Dee Dee has one last chance. She takes out the largest, heaviest stone from her bag. On it is written “Matching Gifts”, and she loads it into her sling. She feels the weight, the power, the importance of this moment. Her arm winds up; she releases just as The StarBuck turns to face her once more.

The stone arcs towards him, in silent slow motion as the massed crowds wait breathless, and as it strikes him between the eyes he rocks back, back, back, until the only sound is a loud crash as The StarBuck hits the ground.

Nobody moves.

And then, from behind her, a cheer erupts, as her dedicated soldiers watch the Something Betters launch into disarray and scatter. They flee at the loss of their leader; they run back to their hiding holes in the discount marts and strip malls and e-tailers. Dee Dee has won the day; she and the army have saved the shelter for another year.

Edie appears beside Dee Dee and gives her another hug. “Well done,” she says, “I knew you would do it,” and Dee Dee floats on the emotional high of the moment, feeling hundreds of hands pressing in to congratulate her too. Her smile overwhelms her, and she cannot turn it off. Why should she? The Annual Campaign is a success, and for one more year there will be contentment in the village.

THE END

(FOR NOW)

craft, Writing improvement

Prove Yourself Without Saying A Word

The following quote is a fantastic guide for anyone in sales, persuasion, or attempting to change another’s mind. It comes from one of the most successful books of all time, about one of the most important topics we all encounter daily.

“If you are going to prove anything, don’t let anybody know it. Do it so subtly, so adroitly, that no one will feel that you are doing it.”

Dale Carnegie, How to Win Friends and Influence People

And I have nothing more to say. I’m just going to let that one sit. Far be it from me to expand on an idea that’s much older than I am, one that has helped a countless number of people to be more successful on their journey through life. Just do what Mr. Carnegie says, and you’ll be well rewarded.

So, then, why do I choose to write about it? As soon as I read it I wanted examples of this principle in action. When I browsed through the library of my mind, I found two that illustrate this quite well. And they’re entertaining too. Allow me to share so that you might learn and be inspired to apply this idea in your own life.

 

Example 1

First, let’s consider a segment of text. This is from L. Ron Hubbard’s story The Devil’s Rescue:

The main cabin was ornate with carved blackwood furniture, glowing silks and oriental carpets. Along the bulkheads to either side were rows of chests, camphor and ivory and teak, from which drooled the luster of pearls or gaped a little over a load of dull gold coins. The ports were twenty feet athwartship and full seven feet tall, all of cunningly set glass to make compasses and tritons and sea horses; through this, trailing far behind them, glowed their frothing wake, leading off into the gray dark and the shrieking wind.

The Devil’s Rescue, reprinted in Writers of the Future, vol 33

In this example, you can feel the knowledge that Hubbard has about life aboard a ship. He’s been there, he’s studied, he has the intimacy necessary to make you believe that you are aboard the The Flying Dutchman. But why is this important?

Because the author must establish the credibility of the narrator, in order for him to be believable enough that the reader enjoys reading and participates fully in the experience. If, for example, an amateur [such as yours truly] who had done the barest amount of research [or, more likely, none at all, attempting to fudge it with whatever is already in his head] about the internal decorations and workings of a pirate ship, were to write that same paragraph, it might come across like this:

The main cabin held elegant furniture, darkly-colored and well-formed. Rugs covered the floor, dulling the sound as the men walked. He dragged his hand across the sculpted walls, feeling under his fingers the rough differences between the carved wood of storage boxes, sculpted brass of drawer handles, or formed glass of the lamps lighting their way. Behind them, he could glance out the portholes, just at the height of his eyes, to the trailing wake, glowing in the dim moonlight.

Now, which of those sounds more believable? Which author has convinced you of his authority? Which one has proven that he knows enough about a sailor’s life to make it worth your while to read further? Hands down, it’s Hubbard. He has taken the Carnegie principle to the extreme: he has shown his competence, rather than blatantly beating you over the head with facts about how many books he’s read or how many interviews he’s conducted. And therefore you, as a reader, are more likely to believe him, accept him, and actually finish the story.

Nowhere in the story does Hubbard tell of his expertise. Nowhere does he come out and say, “this man knows such and such because of years aboard a ship”. He doesn’t have to. He’s shown that, subtly and adroitly, by his extremely competent narrative.

 

Example 2

The following is a humorous scene from Tommy Boy, in which main character Tommy Callahan finally succeeds in making his first sale. How? By demonstrating that his company is an authority, not because of the physical qualities of the parts they make, but by proving, quietly, that Callahan Auto actually meets his client’s unspoken needs:

And what are his needs? Not more brake pads. Not more inventory on a shelf. Not more stock to track and invoices to pay and deliveries to coordinate. The client already has plenty of those. That warehouse is full of stuff. No, what his customer needs is peace of mind. And Tommy tried that. In a sense, he said, “Well, sure, you’ll have peace of mind if you buy from us. I guarantee it!” Does that make the sale? Doubtful. It’s too direct and turns your customer off. The client completely rejected this approach in the first minute of the scene.

Notice what happens when Tommy switches tactics from the hard sell. Instead of pressing the point, he pivots to a more subtle method, and his client softens. His fear of “being sold” dissipates, and he opens up to the possibility of buying from Callahan Auto. When he does, he can see that his needs can actually be met, and he is no longer afraid of losing. Instead, he’s winning! He’s getting the emotional connection, the security and peace of mind he’s searching for. Tommy was able to make this point by, ironically, not making explicit statements to that effect. On the contrary, he spoke in a friendly manner, and allowed his expertise to come through in less obvious ways.

 

Conclusion

The next time you’re struggling to prove yourself as an expert, take a step back. Instead of becoming more belligerent and overbearing with facts of your qualification, consider a softer approach. Demonstrate your competence by producing quality work, rather than just talking about how you will produce quality work.

craft

How a Comma Costs You Thousands of Dollars

In a previous post, I picked some nits. I said that there are little things that stand out to me as errors, and, while not everyone might agree that what I pointed out was important, at least you could have agreed that those things were wrong.

But so what? Why does it matter if your blog post, or your campaign landing page, or your direct mail letter is perfect? What does it matter if you misuse “their” for “there”, or have the wrong “it’s” when you really needed “its”? Who cares, besides grammarians? Who bothers to count the 7 bullet points you’ve listed, to see if that matches the 8 you promised in your headline?

Everyone.

Everyone cares about it. It’s inherent. It’s inside. It’s deep within our subconscious. It goes to trust, it goes to authority, it goes to whether or not I should even keep listening to you.

Because when you make a mistake, and I notice it, even if I don’t notice it notice it, it affects me. It sets off a little counter in my brain. And when my counter reaches my limit, I’m done.

I stop believing you. And what’s worse, I stop reading. I stop listening. I step out of the universe of potential clients (or donors) and join the 98% who don’t give. And I’m not alone. Everyone does it.

Everyone has their own limit on how many errors they’ll accept before completely rejecting you. And that boundary may be different for each piece. But it exists. And it’s costing you. Because when your audience reaches their limit, they check out. They’re done. They’re not going to give, they’re not going to volunteer, they’re not going to tell their neighbor.

It costs you authority … time … sales … donations.

Again, you might think I’m being picky. Perhaps I am. But even the scientists at NASA recognize a need to reduce errors. Their post, How Many Decimals of Pi Do We Really Need? illustrates this very well. They have determined that 15 decimal points of pi (3.141592653589793) is enough. This gets them the precision they need for virtually everything they do. They’re not losing spacecraft around Venus or Pluto with that kind of perfection.

NASA recognizes the need to eliminate errors. That’s why they use a more precise value of pi than the 3.14 virtually all the rest of us will be able to get by with. Because they don’t want to make any mistakes along the way and destroy their mission. If they did, if they allowed imprecision to flow through their work, they wouldn’t be working very long.

So what happens when you allow it?

Let me bring this back to copywriting. To nonprofit donations. To your audience and how they perceive you.

Let’s say your e-mail contains just 3 little errors. You spelled “performance” as “preformance”, you had an extra “,” at one point, and you used the word “reigns” instead of “reins”. Suppose 5% are turned off by the very first one. And 20% are turned off by the next, and the last 25% by the third.

These three errors might be completely missed by 50% of your audience. Okay. Only then do they have a chance to be influenced by your offer. Only then do they get a chance to take action. This is your effective audience.

Had you fixed only one error, your effective audience would go from 50% to 75%. Fixing 2 is 75% to 95%. Fixing all three means that everyone gets a chance to hear your whole message.

Suppose your 3-error mailing has a response rate of 2%. That 2% of the total is, in effect, 4% of the effective audience. That means, had you fixed even one error, you’d expand the effective audience, and your overall response rate would be at 3%. Fix all 3, and it’s up to 4%. Now you’re talking.

Put some numbers to it.

Let’s make-believe for a minute. Imagine an acquisition campaign that costs $50,000, with a 2% response rate, garners $65,000 in donations. Not bad! A $15,000 positive campaign. Suppose you went through your letter with an additional copy review, and caught all 3 of those errors. Let’s say you invest $1,000 in this. What’s the total cost now? $51,000. And the return? $130,000, because your effective audience doubled. A $79,000 positive campaign.

What’s the ROI of that copy review? Pay $1,000, get $65,000. Pretty amazing.

Okay, maybe these numbers are a little facetious. But might it be worth it to spend a little more time critiquing your copy in order to get a lot more return? How much would you have to invest to see a positive ROI on that review? Just $1 more than the cost. It wouldn’t be hard to get $1,001 in additional responses. That 2% has to improve only to 2.04% in order to get there. Is that reasonable? Absolutely.

And if it improves to 2.4%, that’s a $76,000 campaign, and a $10,000 ROI on that copy review. Pretty easy to see how small improvements can be very valuable.

Conclusion

Grammatical errors, far from being something that your audience just ignores, build up over the course of your communication. They break down trust, and they reduce your effective audience. Ultimately, this reduces donor confidence, degrades your reputation, and erodes donations. It’s in the best interest of your nonprofit for everything you do to be as clean as possible.