The Little Words Mean the Most

From a certain UK-based guru (the real kind, not the self-ordained)

 

... you are in my thoughts and I wanted you to know there is a real stand-out quote of yours I use everywhere:

“baby boomers are the largest cohort of potential donors ever seen on earth… so DO continue to stereotypically insult them. It makes it so much easier to see which charities are idiots....”

So many charities are STILL treating BBs as idiots, this good, wise, seasoned, long-suffering star-quality-successful guru rummaged on ....

 

Building a new home page

Before the Internet

How-To books, hundreds of them

 

 

What a mega-webby on donor newsletters looks like after 4+ hours of Q&A. Things get a little giddy. Three time zones represented on screen. Off screen: a planet's worth of time zones asking questions. We love you!!!!

Join us next time.

Please.

 

Talking to my therapist, cancelling today's session

 

Last session, you asked about the title of the book in progress.

 

Right now its working title is Sim One: A love and then-what-happens story

 

A good title comes either like a lightning bolt ... or like you're passing an elephant-sized turd ... with tusks.

 

Another possible subtitle for Sim One: Things we no longer do together ... That theme comes up in a few chapters. But it seems kind of sad for a book that, while gruesome from her diagnosis' standpoint, is really a celebration of a loud lovely life fiercely lived. > With style and great hair.

 

[still talking to my therapist] Titles are hard, especially for straightforward how-to books. My publisher and I came up with 75 or so options for my latest (last?) how-to book ... and never found one we liked. We surrendered and grumpily went with our barely-acceptable second best, shown here.

 

Thank you for all you're doing to guide me. Last week was good. Turned out I'm not the drunk I thought I was.

 

You've likely heard this: Extroverts talk to think. Introverts think to talk.

 

On that spectrum, I'm much more comfortable writing than talking. I can think on the page. It's mostly, for me, a matter of cadence ... and trash removal. The cadence? So, you've just said this ... what are you going to say next? Trash removal: Spot the redundancies, spot the larks, spot the flagrant self-indulgences, remember the audience: what do they need, what do they need, what do they need....

 

You've gotten me to talk, in 50-minute spurts. Thank you.

 

Ahern enters a local hall of fame

 

This news from Mary Jo....

 

"You & the rest of 1963 championship track team are going to the Holbrook Hall of Fame. I remember you running cross country but don’t remember your track event(s). Mile? Two mile? 🏆"

 

NEVER did a "champion" athlete NOT deserve plaudits ... than me in 1963.

 

Did the mile. Did the two mile. They were effortless; it was like flying. You wore the lightest clothing you could. Running distance events with no-weight shoes on your feet was psychedelics before psychedelics. You left scorn behind. You met sunset and sunrise on equal terms.

 

Because of this one thing I couldn't avoid in the first place:

 

I'd been forced to climb mountains in New Hampshire over the past summer, as a camper. The camp was staffed in part by college cross-country runners. We'd go on hikes of several days' duration. I'd complain the entire way, hefting a pack of snacks.

 

Still, unbeknownst, it was a miracle for me.

 

I went in one grueling summer from being the last person across the finish line in high-school cross-country ... to being first ... by a country mile.

 

I was clueless.

 

September-October-November that year were gifts. Winning at track was easy after that; triumphant and arrogant. It was just stupid; my legs were stronger, my asthma-damaged lungs were participants. By accident, I learned a tiny bit more than Holbrook's coaches about interval training (from this Harvard guy I happened into at the town's high-school track).

 

There's some kind of parable here. I don't know where to start....

 

Love forever,

 

tom

 

Who told you this shit was easy?

My Las Vegas love....

As you say, "words are hard." And unexamined, place-holder, endlessly-repeated, jargon-ista words have the dangerous life-span of radioactive waste. "Well, they said it that way ... so we should say it that way, too!" Blah, blah, blah, etc.

The industry's been through this ... more than once. It's a BIG reason (IMHO) why average donor-comm performance (and US household giving) is in decline ... because new practice unwittingly copies bad practice.

My latest real-life example? A good, beloved, award-winning, life-saving nonprofit community hospital system that got ZERO response to a massive email appeal. Hey?!? Me, too! Been there, done that, once upon a time ... before I gulped down 2 decades of training re: "words are hard."

Who told you this shit was easy?

 

Is Flesch-Kincaid still relevant, Dawn asks a decade later

Dawn! HELLO!!!

Yes, the tool is still relevant ... more than ever ... I teach it all the time. It's called the Flesch-Kincaid calculator (after its co-founders).

Here's the URL:   https://goodcalculators.com/flesch-kincaid-calculator/

As I probably harped on back then, grade level is NOT about getting 6th-graders to make donations.

Grade level is exclusively about how fast and easily I (an adult who might make a gift) can comprehend what you're trying to tell me: a 6th-grade level is faster than an 8th-grade level is WAY faster than a 10th-grade level ... and if you're trying to shove 12th-grade writing down my throat, you better be buying me a hot-fudge sundae with 3 cherries on top. And a day in rehab.

12th-grade writing ceases to be of any use after the 12th grade (unless you want to be a peer-reviewed scientist or college professor). For the general public, it's an insult to our attention spans.

Flesch-Kincaid standards ripple through the User's Manuals on our sub fleet, where sailors with high-school diplomas tend nuclear reactors and drive the boats. The people at the wheel are 18 and 19 years old (under senior supervision, of course). Thank you, Flesch-Kincaid.
 
Without Flesch-Kincaid, what a mess we'd be in.

 

 

Reply to a congressional candidate seeking to pick my pocket

First: My name's not THOMAS. It's TOM.

I would never give a penny to any fundraising robot that doesn't get that right. And you can thank ActBlue for that persistent mistake. They go by my credit card name, not my common name. And never asked my preference.

I can't vote in the first district, anyway; so I'm really not your target audience. I have, however, given serious money to candidate Aaron, because I like a flaming progressive; I think he has fire power. Spoken with candidate Sabina, too; be happy with her. There are what? 33 other candidates as well? Oh, my.

And Walter, who are you again? I know what you're not (your paragraph 4).

How was the opening rate on your subject line? Not exactly a barn burner declaration.

And starting with a statistic in your email is how you lose the "3-second test." (I can explain; it comes from neuroscience.)

All this must sound like criticism. Honestly, may the best candidate win. David C. did RI proud, especially during the worst of the Trump years. Little Rhody can punch well above its weight ... with the right people in office (Whitehouse, Jack Reed).

And, yes, I know no one's listening. Hi, robot!

~ tom (not thomas)

 

 

Spoke in Romania; trying to help in Ukraine with kids' cancer care

Tabletochki was kind enough to send a photo of a how-to book they use to help train their new fundraising hires.

Look: this is a very useful charity, raising money for state-of-the-art cancer treatments for Ukrainian kids, bolstering 6 hospitals in-country.

And then a fork-tailed demon in human form (driver's license name: Vladimir Putin) invaded without provocation, threatening the survival of these cancer kids.

Tabletochki WAS donor supported. Now? More than 16 million potential donors have fled the country or are displaced, living out of suitcases. For now: the outside world has to support these kids.

Help? Will you? Thank you!!!

 

A team works up a case for Ukranian kids' cancer relief in the midst of war

 

[after praising a great headline...]

 

As I say ad nauseam (to my ears, too), that same headline is missing the most important word in sales: you. Without "you," it's a statement. WITH "you," it gets personal and emotional. Simply extending the headline with a short, next sentence. Or with a deck (subhead).

 

Will you join Veronika's new battle?

Will you tell Putin to get his hands off these cancer kids? [turn Putin into a pedophile as well as a mass-murdering Hitler sans mustache]

Will you [whatever]?