Nonprofits: Show, don’t tell

From a very young age, we are all taught to tell. Tell me what you learned at school, tell me about the book your reading, and so on. The aspect of telling is so instilled into our brains that when it comes to your nonprofit, naturally you like to tell everyone how amazing it is. My nonprofit raised $20,000 to fight cancer. My nonprofit saved 1,000 trees. Great. That’s wonderful that your nonprofit accomplished that, but so have a thousand others. You need to set yourself apart or risk being lost in the vast sea of nonprofits. Anyone can say how great a nonprofit is; it’s up to you to show — or demonstrate — what you have achieved.

I came across one nonprofit’s web site that did a remarkable job at showing their results. The Blood Connection, located in Greenville, South Carolina, has incorporated a “Who You Help” section on the front page of their web site. When you click on it you are shown stories from seven different people whose lives were changed by The Blood Connection.

This is an easy way to ignite donor interests. This form of showing is such a simple concept that it is often overlooked. You can also spark just as much attention by adding videos or pictures to illustrate the good that your nonprofit has accomplished. When you show, instead of tell, what your nonprofit has achieved, your statistics become human, not just a number.

Jody Courtney

 

On obsessions.

What is your latest obsession?

 

Pete Anderson
Authentic retro MLB batting practice jerseys

Cathy Monetti
Looking for fun. http://cathymonetti.blogspot.com/

Kathryn White
Friday Night Lights, on Netflix. Yes, I know I’m a couple years behind on this one. But this show is so much bigger than high school football. Bigger than Texas, even. And I feel quite validated to learn that literary greats like Lorrie Moore have been just as obsessed as I. Clear eyes. Full hearts.

Ryon Edwards
spotify.com

Yanti Pepper
HBO’s True Blood

Kevin Smith
I recently got a big green egg: http://www.biggreenegg.com/. So I’m all about grilling everything.

Maria Fabrizio
http://tatt.ly/

Julie Turner
Survival. http://scwordsmith.com/

Teresa Coles
Reading Ann Patchett books. Bel Canto should be on everyone’s list.

 

Singularity

Great brands are singular. They stand for one often profoundly simple thing or idea. David Doyle’s campaign for Volkswagen in the 1960’s, arguably the greatest ad campaign of the 20th century, made VW stand for one thing: small.

Modern branding still reflects this premise. Recent work for Subaru ends with the one word concept: love. BMW owns a different space with the idea of joy. Nonprofits would be smart to follow suit, yet so few do.

Most nonprofits deal with complex causes about which they are passionate. As a result, the products and services they offer tend to grow via offshoot and initiative. With most, a once core service has grown to a bundle of services. The same applies to fundraising initiatives. This renders multi-layered ambiguous communication.

In an economy that presents greater need than ever, and a shrinking donor base, consider the power of singularity. Being known for doing one thing done amazingly well is far better than generating general awareness of five less remarkable feats, and far more memorable.

I’m not suggesting that you overhaul operational programs or fundraising basics. I do urge nonprofits to look to their organization’s roots when considering external communications. Then deliver a singular brand message. Given continued economic chaos, people simply can’t absorb much more.

 

On pizza.

 

Tell us about the best pizza you ever had.


Ryon Edwards
Venus Pie Pizzaria, Spartanburg, SC. Ate there while on a photo shoot a few years ago. Hand tossed, New York style. Not too much sauce, thin crust, large slices. Service not great, restaurant not the cleanest. But the best pizza ever.

Kevin Smith
Taking visiting friends and family to Lombardi’s on Spring Street in New York City, the first pizzeria in the US. The best ever, especially when it’s snowy.

Pete Anderson
My choice is Moon River Pizza in my hometown of Jacksonville, FL. I liked going there with my sisters when my parents were out of town.

Julie Turner
I have eaten so much pizza it’s impossible to say.

Kathryn White
Margherita pizza, eaten at a bar in downtown Charlotte, while wearing stage make-up and tights. After a full day of dancing, I had just finished the last performance at a museum’s grand opening. I was 15, and ravenous. The balance of fresh basil and tomato, of rich mozzarella and slightly-chewy crust tasted like the best thing I’d ever eaten. I’ll always wonder if the pizza was truly that magical, or if the dancing just sharpened my hunger.

Cathy Monetti
Homemade Margherita Pizza, made by my sister-in-law Colette Rodbell. Fresh pesto, fresh tomatoes, fresh mozzarella (from Arthur Avenue) and fresh basil from Colette’s herb garden, spread on the most perfect fresh pizza dough. Grilled right there on the Rodbell’s patio, where it was served on a perfect summer night in Larchmont, NY. I have never been able to recreate Colette’s pizza (and believe me, I have tried) but I do believe it is proof that pizza can change your life.

Teresa Coles
Brick oven pizza in Castellina in Chianti, Tuscany, on a late summer evening in 2002. Cathy, Tim, Jay and I. It was so good I smoked a cigarette afterward.

Maria Fabrizio
I have always been a cheese and pepperoni kind of person. Simple. Easy. Classic. But when I moved to Richmond, VA for grad school I discovered the most heavenly of  pies. A dear friend and now relative of mine bought one for us to share with a few glasses of wine at her house. I was so skeptical, it was from a chain called “Extreme Pizza” and it was covered in vegetables. Politely, I took a slice as not to seem rude and I absolutely fell in love. The pizza is “Drag it through the Garden” and I’ve found nothing near as good. My heart and stomach now live for fresh mushrooms, green peppers, red onions, artichoke hearts, broccoli, vine ripe tomatoes, fresh basil, tomato sauce, mozzarella and cheddar

Toolboxes: A Narrative of Process

Whether you’re a writer, designer, illustrator or a grandmother turned pastry chef, you have a toolbox. If you’re a writer, you probably have an arsenal of pens and paper. If you’re a designer, you’ve certainly got a mighty mouse and some x-acto blades, and the illustrator could have anything from paint tubes to charcoal.

In the past three months, I’ve discovered Design*Sponge, a fantastic blog for anyone looking to be inspired to create or recreate your space. Design*Sponge has a recurring post called “ What’s In Your Toolbox?” and it’s a brilliant idea. Not only are these little features wonderful because they show beautiful work, but in a quick snap shot, they reveal process. You can see which artist is completely square and thinks through things all the way, and which ones work intuitively —grabbing the first piece of material at hand and working with what emerges.

These little toolbox portraits are beautiful, friendly and inspiring.

I’ve started throwing in random things into my own office drawer to see what I can reach in and find.

Enjoy these little vignettes. Photos from SCOUT’S HONOR Co. and Design*Sponge.

Delightful Weekend

What was delightful about last weekend?

Julie Turner
Last weekend I picked fresh cherries at an orchard in upstate New York.

Rebecca Jacobson
Staying in pajamas till 3:00 in the afternoon!!  And had a friend over
visiting while our kids played.  Pure delight!

Pete Anderson
Enjoying sunshine beyond 8:00.

Kathryn White
Rocking on a back porch on a late summer night, listening to my friend read Lorrie Moore’s latest book aloud to me.

Ryon Edwards
Spending time with my daughter, who turned 13 on Sunday. Yikes.

Cathy Monetti
I made pesto from the July bounty of basil in my garden. I hope heaven smells like fresh basil.

Kevin Smith
Fresh cut grass and grilling.

Favorite teacher

Who was your favorite teacher, and why?

Maria Fabrizio
I can’t choose one. The collective group of teachers as parents at Governor’s school get the gold medal. They were all hard, they all made me cry, and they all made me better at my craft. They saw potential where I did not. I doubt that each of them know how much they changed my life: Joe Thompson, Ben Gilliam, Axel Forrester, Carly Tucker, Alice Munn, Dana Howard, Michal Brodeur, and Katya Cohen.

Teresa Coles
Carol Gunn, my English teacher of all four years of high school. That level of  consistency  yielded my permanent mastery of its versus it’s.

Ryon Edwards
Two favorites: Dangerfield Ashton, my middle school art teacher. He was eccentric, outspoken, and wild. He painted some crazy stuff. Chris Davis, my high school art teacher. She was softspoken, sensible, and honest. She led me to study design in college, which I am grateful for.

Cathy Monetti
Dr. Robert W. Hill, English professor at Clemson University. He made me believe I had potential as a poet.

Kevin Smith
Dr. Jim Sims. He made history relevant by drawing parallels with present day. We have much to learn from the French and Russian Revolutions.

Kathryn White
Dr. Teresa Jones, professor of English. She taught me to be a better reader, critic, and writer–but most importantly, she taught me to get to the heart of it.

When Endings Are Beginnings

at Swarthmore

Swarthmore is a fine liberal arts college located just on the outskirts of Philadelphia. There is much to say about the Swarthmore experience, not the least of which is the way a visitor can be moved simply by the school’s idyllic campus: an arboretum dotted with old stone buildings, antique rose gardens and long, long lazy lawns perfect for philosophic conversations and college courting. (I’m quite sure these lawns have seen a bit of both.)

I visited there recently to celebrate the graduation of my eldest stepson, Carson Monetti (highest honors in Philosophy, thank you very much). He walked us oh-so-casually around the campus while I snapped photo after photo. And then we came upon The Tree.

“What’s the story there?” asked my husband.

Turns out the tree is a 30-foot oak that began a descent into death some time ago. Rather than remove it, Swarthmore and the arboretum agreed to paint it red, demonstrating the tree’s ability to transcend the natural limitations of regular existence (a dead tree) and be transformed into something new (a work of art).

I find this story of transformation profoundly important. But I have to say I love my own story, too. I was mesmerized by that red tree from the moment I saw it, imagining a band of idealistic college co-eds descending upon it under the cover of darkness, paintbrushes in hand, transforming it into their own powerful statement. Day dawned, in my story, and the red tree lived on in spite of Administration, simply because it was so. . . Swarthmore.

I love that campus. I love that red tree.

Quality of Life

What item that costs less than $100 greatly improves your quality of life?

Kevin Smith
iTunes

Cathy Monetti
Clairol root touch-up

Kathryn White
High thread count sheets

Julie Turner
Hugs and kisses from my family

Maria Fabrizio
http://www.fitbit.com/

Rebecca Jacobson
Having someone other than me clean my house.

Moe’s and Social Media: The Fast-Casual Options

Working with our client, Moe’s Southwest Grill, has helped convert me into a social media believer. Moe’s has a very distinct brand identity. Their messaging is very tongue-in-cheek, pop culture affluent and slightly irreverent. They remain popular with the school-age crowd, but are tailor-made for families with young mothers, who appreciate the fun while keeping it family friendly. All of this means social media is the perfect avenue for Moe’s to communicate with its customer base. Social media is decidedly informal and playful, and lends itself to instantaneity.

We help keep Moe’s highly active on the social media front, posting witty (well, depending on who you ask), timely updates not just for the purpose of advertising a daily special or promotion, but to stay top of mind and engaged with our audience. Customers typically respond very well. In Columbia, we’ve cultivated a fan base of nearly 13,000 followers, many who respond to our posts and proclaim their affection for the Moe’s brand. It makes sense: the young, social-media affluent, typical Facebook and Twitter user falls in line precisely with the Moe’s customer base. It’s a match made in heaven. And when something does interrupt the love-fest—say an unpleasant dining experience or an unredeemed coupon—we can receive feedback, pass it along to store managers, and remedy the situation at the blink of an eye, a speed only accessible with social media. No need for customer complaint cards, 1-800 hotlines or formal corporate responses. We acknowledge the error, fix it at once and compensate the affected party for their trouble.

While Facebook and Twitter fit Moe’s like a glove, social media is not the most suitable means of communication for all brands. I see car dealership commercials lately encouraging viewers, “Follow us on Twitter!” or, “Like us on Facebook!” I appreciate the effort to get with the times, but buying lunch and financing a car are two different things entirely, requiring completely separate levels of seriousness. Facebook has never been admired for its formality. A brand selling big-ticket items needs to acknowledge this truth and realize Facebook and Twitter do not lend the necessary gravity their services require. To these brands I recommend: stick to traditional media. But to those existing in a more playful market niche: embrace social media. It is not a trend or passing fad. It is the principal tool of the new consumer—informed, empowered and opinionated—and it will serve you well as a means of engaging your customer base for years to come.

–Pete Anderson