eugene copywriting and editing

Ten words to cut from your copy

No matter what you’re writing – the next bestselling novel, a social media status update or content for your company – there are words you can eliminate from your copy. It’ll make it quicker and easier to read, get your point across better and be more engaging.

I recently finished editing a memoir I spent the better part of last year writing. One part of the editing process involved spending quality time with Word’s find and replace feature. I found the following weak words and replaced them either with nothing or a stronger, more active word. It cut my word count by 1,000 words (out of 75,000).

That

We overuse “that” constantly because we feel that we need it in our writing. You don’t need it. There are times “that” is appropriate, such as, “I want to buy that book.” But, most of the time, it can go by way of the delete key. Re-read your writing without the “thats” and see if it still makes sense. If it does, you don’t need it.

Just

“Just” weakens your writing. You can delete this word and the only difference will be fewer words to read and writing that’s stronger and more engaging.

Really

We use “really” for emphasis. Change the word you’re emphasizing instead. Rather than saying “writing is really hard” use a stronger word, such as “writing is difficult” or “writing is unendurable.”

Very

It’s the same as “really.” Delete it and strengthen the word it modifies.

Almost

At a writing seminar I once went to, the speaker lectured us on her dislike of the word “almost.”

“Don’t write, ‘He ran so fast he almost hit the door,’” she said. “Tell me what actually happened instead of what didn’t happen.”

Perhaps

Perhaps and its sister word “maybe” indicate uncertainty about what you’re saying. Unless you want to indicate uncertainty (which is fine if your protagonist is pondering why something happened that they’re not sure about, but not if you’re writing about your company’s latest product) don’t use it.

Quite

I’m English and “quite” is a regularly-used adjective in my speech. It used to be in my writing as well, until and editor told me I was “damning them with faint praise” in article about a band I said was “quite energetic.”

Sometimes quite means “really really really.” Sometimes it means “kinda.” Unless you’re writing dialogue for an English person, it’s best not to use it. Your goal is not to confuse your reader.

Literally

Before we collectively changed our minds, the only time “literally” was supposed to be used was when something was true in a literal sense. It can now apparently also mean “figuratively.” As the word has essentially lost its meaning except in hyperbole, don’t use it.

Nice

“Nice” is bland. Surely there’s a better word you can use that’s more alive. People aren’t nice. They’re friendly, observant, kind, patient, polite. Food doesn’t taste nice. It’s savory, comforting, palatable, bland.

Every

I confess, I was a rampant over user of “every” including “everyone” and “everything.” Over use of this word makes your writing less believable. Writing (and thinking) in absolutes (every, always, never) doesn’t work well in copy or in life.

There are more ways to strengthen your writing, but cutting these 10 words will go a long way to making your writing more polished and engaging. When you read a professionally written work – book or blog post – notice which words you see and which you don’t. When your writing is strong and clear, it’s easy and fluid to read.

The Power of the Anecdote

If you’ve ever been pregnant…you know the power of the anecdote.

If you’ve ever had surgery…you know the power of the anecdote.

If you’ve ever…toilet trained children, had a vasectomy, grieved a loved one…you know the power of anecdotes.

Anecdotes are just stories about things that happened to other people.

You’ve heard stories about the friend of a friend who was shocked she was having twins, or who had preeclampsia or… You’ve hard about the guy going in for surgery on his left knee who wrote “replace this one” on it with permanent marker to be sure the surgeon got it right.

We all know someone (who knows someone) who had this thing or that thing happen to them. And it made an impact on us. So we remember it. And we pass it on to the next person we encounter that it might relate to.

Stories are connection points

We tell stories to connect with others, and to make sense of our own experiences. If I know someone, or someone who knows someone, who experienced something similar to what you’re going through, it helps me relate to you. If it’s similar to what I’m going through, it helps me integrate the experience into my life.

What does that have to do with fundraising?

Stories in fundraising

When you talk to donors, you’re seeking their connection points with your charity. How does what you do relate to who they are?

Stories and anecdotes about the people you help stick. They stick with your donor relations folks who go out and talk to donors — and need stories to tell. They stick with your donors when they read your newsletter, website, social media messages and even brochures (when done right).

Stories change brain chemistry

And what do they do? Good stories–powerful, engaging stories–actually change the brain chemistry of the people hearing them. And that changes their behavior.

In The Psychology of Storytelling and Empathy on PSYBLOG Jeremy Dean explains how stories with a dramatic arc cause the listener’s brain to release cortisol (associated with distress) and oxytocin (associated with empathy). In turn, folks who released more of those chemicals tended to donate more money–either to another person or to charity.

I don’t think you need a story to explain how that can help your organization.

We are social creatures, ever seeking connection to each other and the world around us. Stories connect us. Tell them.

Tell a story of hope

In fundraising — and marketing of any kind when you get down to it — storytelling is the key.

It’s the key to engaging your donors.

It’s the key to inspiring and motivating your donors — to donate, to volunteer, to act in whatever way you’re asking them to.

We all love stories. It’s part our human nature. We’ve told stories before we had written language. They are an intrinsic part of who we are.

Donors don’t approach giving like they do investing

As much as we love to call major donors “donor-investors” and want to believe that these donor-investors will give us wads of money because they understand the good business sense in making positive change through our organization, that’s not the thing that does it.

People make donations because they have an emotional connection with your charity. And stories make that connection.

Our donors are smarter than that!

I know what you’re thinking.

“But our donors are smart, well-educated, reasonable, rational people.”

Yes, they likely are.

But that’s not why they make the decision to give you money or time or talent. That’s not why they invest in you.

They invest in you because they care. Because the cause you champion means something to them inside their squishy, mushy centers.

We have to convince them we’re awesome

“But our donors will only want to give us money if they believe we’re a good investment, that we use the funds well, that we know what we’re doing.”

Sure. But you can give them all of that knowledge and reassurance through stories. Stories about the good that’s been done because of donors like them.

Stories — moving, heartwarming stories — in fact, will convince them of those things better than anything else.

Things that don’t work (and do)

Bragging about children whose lives have been saved because of your organization doesn’t do that. (But thanking donors who have saved those lives does — along with a story about such a life.)

Promoting your latest piece of technology doesn’t do that. (But a story about the good it’s done that thanks donors who enabled its purchase does.)

Data on your productivity and ROI and how much you spend on administrative costs doesn’t. (But a story about how you helped someone with the money you don’t spend on admin costs does.)

Imagine this

Think, instead, of a story about a young girl. Her life was changed for the better, her adversity overcome, her hopeful future restored because of your donors. Donations paid for her surgery/the technology used in the surgery/the skilled surgeon. Or they paid for her therapy, or clothes, or education or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that her hopeful, rightful future was restored to her. Hope. That’s what your donors are investing in. Sell them that. In a story.

Go on, be naive

Last Tuesday, as I stood before a room full of folks at the Emerald Valley Development Professionals January lunch program, I realized what it was I wanted to tell them about storytelling in fundraising.

So, I told myself, “I’m excited! I’m excited! I’m excited!” (because that apparently works better to quell nervousness and do an awesome job than trying to calm myself down) and got on with it.

Turn to wonder

The non-profit I most recently worked for has a set of touchstones it asks employees to follow in their interactions with patients and each other. Among these are:

  • Presume welcome
  • Extend welcome
  • Turn to wonder

There are few more that involve listening and other things. Seven or eight in total.

But “turn to wonder” is the one that matters right now. It’s about keeping some naivety in our outlook and being willing to let down our guard.

Journeys into communicating

When I first started writing as a professional, it was for a local weekly newspaper in North Carolina. It was a small town. We had one traffic light and if you missed it going South, the next one was in South Carolina.

I didn’t know anything about journalism when I first started. Fortunately, I had an excellent editor who taught me so much.

What I did know was how to tell a story. I knew how to draw people in, to hook them and keep them engaged.

It worked. Even if my approach was a bit unconventional.

Award-winning naivety

Early on during my time there, I wrote a story from the crime blotter. A guy was flashing women on the golf course in a nearby town. I talked to the Sheriff’s Department. I talked to a recent victim. And then a I wrote a story that won an award from the North Carolina Press Association for General News Reporting.

It went like this:

“It was a dark and foggy night. She looked up and there he was, stark naked in the picture window.”

The story went on to give all the facts, ma’am. A description of the incident, of the perpetrator and how the victim felt about it.

I never occurred to me that my take on the situation might possibly be offensive. Making light of someone exposing their genitals to unwitting women!

But no one got mad.

In fact, during my time at that newspaper, our circulation increased by 30%. I doubt it was because of the Sunday coupons. People liked being entertained.

Do you un-offend into boredom?

When you write to  your donors, do you worry about all the possible ways your message might be received?

Do you go through so many rounds of editing, your stories lose their life?

Do you censor yourself to the point of conveying emotionless copy?

I was fortunate to have an editor who recognized good writing and appreciated a little bit of quirk.

I went on to cover the school board’s shenanigans — all I needed to do was quote them accurately, as truth really is often stranger than fiction. And I had the pleasure of writing stories about local folks doing interesting and amazing things.

That’s what your donors want to hear about, too.

So forget every way you can possibly offend someone and tell a story that engages and keeps your donors’ attention. Wouldn’t you like an uptick in your “subscription rate”?

If you’d like to see it, here are the slides from the presentation. I’ll write more about it in depth next time.

 

Your resolution: Tell a better story next time around

It’s the last day of the giving year.

By now, the results are in from your year-end direct mail letters. You’ve sent out your New Year’s Eve email appeal (you sent it yesterday or today, right? These are the two highest days for online giving in the year).

How are they performing? Do they meet your expectations?

If not, what will you do differently next time?

Change what you can, know what you can’t

There are probably lots of things you can’t change – your executive director, for instance. Or your budget. With education, perseverance and a bit of moxy, you can change some of the seemingly immovable obstacles to good fundraising. Or not. In that case, please refer to the serenity prayer.)

But you can change how you tell your story.

Always go with emotion

Telling a poignant and emotional story will win out over giving your donors statistics hands down, every time.

Wharton marketing professor Deborah Small researches why people make the decisions they do. The research you care about is the decision whether or not a donor responds to your ask.

Here’s what she says in an interview with the Stanford Social Innovation Review:

“The more vivid the story – through narrative or through imagery – the more emotionally arousing. And emotions are what triggers the impetus to help.”

Lose the statistics

Not only do “emotionally arousing” stories inspire donors to help financially, but they are the ONLY thing that truly does. Mix in some statistics and, poof, you lose your impact.

“Showing statistics can actually blunt this emotional response by causing people to think in a more calculative, albeit uncaring, manner,” Small says. Even if you share both the emotional story and the statistics, donations drop.

People give to people

As much as we want to think our donors are rational, logical, intelligent people who think through every decision, they’re not. At least, that’s not what gets them to give.

According to interviews that CCS conducted with more than 6,200 folks, the top three reasons people give are:

  • People are inherently generous
  • People give to people
  • People respond to a meaningful mission

(You can download the full report, the 2013 Snapshot of Today’s Philanthropic Landscape here.)

So next time, tell a story. Tell one person’s story. Your donors will want to help that one person. Because helping that one person, with that one problem, makes the world a better place. It means they’ve made a difference to one person they’ve identified with or felt something for.

But statistics are cool!

Statistics, however, are for the head. They won’t keep you warm on a cold winter’s night. They certainly won’t warm your donors’ hearts.

Statistics overwhelm. They make the project so big, so huge, that it seems insurmountable. Your donors know they can’t save everyone. They can’t make world hunger go away, or provide free health care to everyone in need, or save every kitten from euthanasia.

But they can feed one person, or provide for one life-saving medical test, or help one, soft, furry, innocent feline ball of fluff.

Making a difference

It’s like the story of the starfish stranded on the beach at high tide, dying in the sun. A man walking along the shore begins throwing them back into the ocean, one by one. He knows he can’t throw every starfish back into the ocean, he can’t save all of them.

A friend walking with him points this out to him. Doesn’t it seem pointless to try and save all of them? How can he make a difference?

The man bends down, picks up another starfish and throws it back into the clear, cool ocean water.

He says, “I made a difference to that one.”

Let your donors make a difference. Give them someone to save.

How do you address your donors?

When you write your donors a letter, send the quarterly newsletter, invite them to splendid event or send them your e-newsletter, what do you call your donors?

“Our donors deserve our respect! We must use their formal titles.”

I realize I’m not a 65-year-old major donor, but when I get mail addressed to Mrs. Bartlett, I laugh. Even the kids I teach a Fiber Arts class to don’t call me Mrs. Bartlett. My bonus-son’s high school teachers all go by their first names.

“Yes, but our donors are older, they like to be called Mr. and Mrs.”

Perhaps. But not by their friends. Certainly not by their family.

And whether Mr. John Smith is writing a $100 check as a response to your direct mail appeal or a $2.7 million stock transfer to your capital campaign, if he’s your donor, he’s your friend. More than that, he’s a member of your family.

Donors give because they’ve made an emotional connection with your cause. They give to make the world a better place, even in a small way. And if you’d like them to keep giving (which I suspect you do), then keep their hearts open toward you. Treat them like beloved family.

Also keep in mind that, according to Jeff Brooks in The Fundraiser’s Guide to Irresistible Communications, women outnumber men as donors 2-to-1. Being called “Mrs.” makes you feel old. And no woman wants that. You might as well call them “Ma’am.”

What did you call me?

While we’re on the subject of addressing donors, remember that not all of us go by our legal first name. My husband is known only as Geoffrey to police officers and our public library. He’s Adam to everyone else.

Fundraising expert, Tom Ahern, really dislikes being called “Thomas.” He simply doesn’t use his full name. And he doesn’t want charities to address him as Tom. It’s a turn off. Which isn’t something you want to do when you’re developing a relationship with someone who’s keeping your organization’s doors open with their donations.

Ladies first—always

And when you’ve finished the debate on whether or not to include donors’ names in your annual report (Kivi Leroux Miller says she could do without it, but admits none of us are sure whether or not it’s truly ineffective), consider this: if you insist on calling your donors Mr. and Mrs. Someone, Miss. Manners says that etiquette requires the lady’s name to go first.

So it might just be easier, more effective and have much less potential for alienating folks through error to call them by their first and last names. So that would be Joanna Bartlett and Adam Miller, please.

Religious fundraising, is it really that different?

A Facebook friend recently posed this question: Why are so many churches (New Thought centers in this case) having such a hard time raising enough money to keep their doors open?

In every church I’ve attended – Religious Science, Spiritualist, Unity – it certainly seems to be the case.

What’s so different about fundraising for churches than for, say, schools? Our local public school system has a well-oiled fundraising machine in place. My youngest children’s elementary school raises upwards of $140,000 a year from about 320 students.

According to this study more than 45 percent of all charitable contributions in the U.S. are to organized religion. Folks who identify themselves as being religious in nature give six times the amount of money to non-religious organizations than people who say they don’t have a religious orientation.

Clearly people who go to church are generous. So what is it?

It’s better to ask and to receive

In any charity-based organization, you have to ask for donations in order to receive them. And, at church, it’s true we pass the plate (or the basket) at every service. But is that enough? And is it the right way to do it?

Perhaps stewardship and requests for support need to be a larger part of the culture. Not just saying thanks over the offering plate and asking during the offertory. But letting people know the impact that their donations make.

In Seven Ways to Instantly Increase Church Income, Denis Greene, the executive director of the Church Development Foundation, writes, “When a pastor reminds me that I am sitting in a pew that someone before me paid for, in a building that was funded by people I may not have even met, I am humbled and reminded that I can have that kind of impact on those who will follow me.”

Striking the right tone

People who go to New Thought churches have often been burned by religion. My experience shows that they often take requests for money the wrong way – as if the church should somehow exist on its own without their financial support. Perhaps that is just the lost and the lonely coming back to finding their spiritual selves, needing healing in many areas of their lives.

And hearing about stories of healing may be just what they need. Hearing about how lives have been changed, connections made, loves found, hearts healed. Because isn’t that what keeps us going back for more?

Everyone likes a good story

The case for donating to education almost makes itself. We see our innocent, bright-eyed children and can’t accept they could grow up in a school without art or P.E. or enough teachers – and so we open up our pocket books and give generously.

The case for supporting the place that nourishes your spiritual life and growth can be similarly compelling. Without invoking guilt, fear or shame.

Help your congregants tell their stories. During weekly services, on your Facebook page, in your annual appeal letters. Talk about the transformations your teachings have made, the healings that have happened, the friends who have been there in times of need – all the things that wouldn’t be possible without your church or spiritual center being there to bring people together in worship.

When we tell our stories, we connect people to why they’re there in the first place. We connect people to each other and break down the barriers between us. In a spiritual setting, that also opens up the connection with the divine.  And there isn’t a greater or more generous presence than that.

And, if nothing else, there’s always your youth program – educating the next generation of children and giving them a spiritual home. It works for schools, right?

A journey into fundraising

I was 14 years old and the Easter holidays were about to start. All across the island of Barbados, school children were involved in fierce competition.

The goal: to raise the most money for the Special Olympics.

The prize: airline tickets to Disney World!

Well, some school children were a bit more competitive than others. I was one of those.

Other than my mum, I didn’t have any family on the island. And while she could donate a few dollars, it wasn’t going to be enough to win that trip.

A holiday spent on a good cause

As I didn’t have any high-dollar donors at the top of my giving pyramid pegged for large donations, I hit the streets. Specially, the pavement outside our local supermarket.

I talked to every shopper coming out of the supermarket, told them briefly about the fundraiser and asked for their change from shopping. When they gave their donation—of whatever amount—I wrote down their name and the amount on my notepad and thanked them sincerely.

Some were more generous than others. Some didn’t even speak English (Barbados is a tourist isle), but I managed to convey the need—and I smiled a lot. A few were super generous. I got a lot of change, but two or three $100 bills.

Staying on track

I remember the feeling when a generous donor gave me more than I ever imagined. I think it made their day, too.

And it kept me going. Our Easter holidays were long. I spent 3 weeks asking everyone I could find on that island for donations.

When it was all totaled up, I raised $1,200. It was more money than I’d ever held at one time. I trotted back to school very pleased and turned in my big bag of change and bills. Surely that was more than anyone else had raised?

The rumor mill does me in

Somehow word got out about my large haul. And I wasn’t the only competitive girl at my school. Unfortunately for me, that girl did have a family who could write a large check to bring her up to—and beyond—my total. Because I had indeed collected more money than anyone else on the entire island.

I was dashed. It seemed so unfair—all that hard work and yet I still didn’t win, just because my family didn’t have as much money as hers. (Yes, the fact that the charity got all the money and it wasn’t supposed to be about me at all did seem to elude me at the time. It was really a win for them.)

Nuns comes through in a crisis

At the time, I went to a Catholic school: The Ursuline Convent. And while I wasn’t Catholic—and was even atheist at the time—there were some benefits to being taught by nuns. They saw to the heart of the situation and decided to make things as fair as they could.

Somehow, two grand prizes were procured. Airline tickets to Orlando or to New York. I was set on Disney, so I picked Orlando, which was just as well as the other girl wanted New York. We all won.

And that was that.

But it’s not the end of the story.

Coming to America

A few months later, my student visa and my mum’s visitor’s visa weren’t renewed. We had to leave the island. But where would we go? Back to England? To France?

My mum didn’t like the weather in England – it’s why she left in the first place. We considered the French Caribbean islands, Martinique, Guadeloupe and St. Martin. But finding a job was challenging.

We decided on Florida. The United States of America: the land of the free and opportunity where the streets are paved with gold. Yes, people from other places really do believe the mystique of the U.S.

And how did we get here? With the airline tickets I worked so hard for. We flew to Orlando, Florida, and began to make our new lives.

Full circle

It took a few years until we actually made it to Disney World. And a few more before I started working for non-profit organizations. But when I did, it felt like coming home.

Fortunately, I no longer spend my vacations asking random strangers for donations. And while, as a communications professional, I don’t ask for money directly as a development officer does, I’m still asking. Annual appeals, newsletters, social media, cases for support – they all build a story and ask for financial support.

I wonder sometimes what life would have been like if we’d gone in a different direction: moved back to England, perhaps. But we had those airline tickets to Orlando. And an idea of a new life we could build for ourselves.

I hope that fundraiser helped change lives for the folks competing in the Special Olympics. It certainly changed mine.

Annual appeals: make an impact on the heart

It’s time for the year-end annual appeal to go out. Things are looking good—you know exactly what you’re raising money for, you’ve got your list segments sorted out, and you’ve interviewed the letter signers and written your best appeal letter yet.

It tells a story, it’s emotional, the P.S. has impact. This is the year the appeal is going to rock it!

Time to get the stamp of approval
And then you show it to your letter signers. And it comes back with edits. The story hit too close to home for them. It reveals too much about them. What will their friends think?

The emotion is gone. It’s a dry and lifeless husk compared to what it was. What now?

Emotion is everything
You know that, in fundraising, emotion is everything. If an appeal doesn’t move the heart, it won’t move the wallet (to open up for your worthy organization).

But your letter signers are a big deal at your non-profit. They’re your board chair, or major donor, or head of an important committee. You don’t want to piss them off. But you want your letter to bring in gifts—not just for you, so you can show the world and your boss what an awesome fundraiser you are, but for your organization, so it can fulfil its mission of doing good in the world.

So now what?
Remember this important rule: people give to people. They respond to emotion.

Take these steps
Pick up the phone and call your letter signer. Apologize for not better setting expectations at the beginning of this process (you’ll set better expectation next time, right?).

Tell them what impact their story had on you. Connect with their emotion about why they are involved in the organization.

Help them understand that it’s OK to be vulnerable. That’s why you’re there, isn’t it? To help the vulnerable, the week, the underserved, those in need of help, folks or animals or ecosystems unable to take care of things themselves?

Explain, as best you can, that emotion is what sells in fundraising. Annual appeal letters are a tried and very well tested method of raising money. Their format, spacing, P.S. (you have a P.S., right?), underlining—all of it—is used simply because it works. The emotional story is part of that. We don’t do it because we like it, we do it because it works.

Tell them why you’re involved in the organization. What’s your emotional connection to the place and its mission?

This step is hard.

Connecting through vulnerability
When I worked at a large health care non-profit, I ran the marketing communications for our annual employee campaign. It raised money for local health care agencies in the community that the organization partnered with.

We relied largely on stories from the patients who had been helped by those agencies to explain the importance of employees giving their hard earned dollars away.

My mum was one of those patients. And this is the story I told a room full of managers and leaders at the health care non-profit.

Colette
One of the very last photos I took of my mum.

Colette’s story
Colette was 64 and unemployed, laid-off from her job as a kitchen designer. She took care of my kids after school so I could work. She was a bright, well-educated member of society. But she had no health insurance.

In the spring she thought she’d come down with a cold that didn’t go away. She finally went to see her doctor at a free clinic. Her doctor ordered a chest x-ray to check for pneumonia. Then she ordered an abdominal ultrasound and blood work.

My mum had advanced liver cancer that had spread throughout her lungs. I sat with her as her doctor told her she had 3-6 months to live.

Three weeks later, the Hospice nurses visited for the last time. My mother had passed into spirit.

Because of the donations to that non-profit clinic, we knew what was happening with my mum’s health. Without it, we would have watched her quickly get sicker and sicker, ending up in the Emergency Department late one night out of desperation and in fear.

My brother would have received a shocked phone call, at home in France, to learn his mother had died. Instead, she passed peacefully in my home, with her children at her side.

Opening hearts opens wallets
That was a hard story for me to tell—now as much as then. But when I stood in front of a room full of my peers and shared it, all I received was compassion, understanding, and lots of donations to the clinic that helped my mum (Volunteers in Medicine, should you want to help them out).

And everyone in the room—and the whole non-profit as I also told the story by email—knew where I stood in terms of the importance of the campaign and my connection to our mission as an organization.

Sometimes people just need to be reminded why there in it.

And, if that just doesn’t work out and you’re stuck with your letter, edits and all, there’s always next time. The good thing about annual appeals it that just keep coming around again!