The Generic Plea

Why “Dear Funder” Applications Go Straight to the Bin

The application in front of me hadn’t just left the wrong funder’s name in. Somebody had found an old application and sent the entire thing, unreviewed, to a completely different funder. The original funder was still named in it. It didn’t match what the new funder wanted, and it still listed trustees who had already left.

It was so bad it was unreal. And I was the grant assessor sat reading it.

The Sniff Test

Assessors spot copy-and-paste within a few sentences. We aren’t especially clever. Nothing lines up. The need doesn’t match the funder’s priorities, the outcomes don’t match their criteria, and the language belongs to somebody else’s guidance notes.

If your proposal could go to fifty trusts unchanged, don’t be surprised when all fifty say no.

Stop Wasting Your First Twenty Words

One opening paragraph I rewrote started: “We are applying to [funder] because we want to deliver A, B and C.” That’s fifteen or twenty words gone, in a tightly limited box, telling the funder something they already know. The rest led with what the organisation wanted to do and what it would mean for the organisation.

We rewrote it to lead with the impact. By delivering the project, a set number of people would gain qualifications and be able to go back into work. They’d gain confidence and motivation, feel better about themselves, and feel they were contributing, which is exactly what they wanted. What the project would actually do came later in the text. The opening paragraph was all about the difference it would make if it were funded.

The Homework Nobody Sees

I can spend a good six to eight hours researching a funder before I write a word: what they want, what they fund, and how that compares with what the organisation delivers.

That’s just the funder side. On the organisation side, I want to know everything. Who are they helping? What do those people look like, where are they from, what are the issues in that area? Why will this project make a difference to their lives, and what would that difference look like? With a brand new client, that can take ten days before I’ve put pen to paper.

Do You Want the Money or the Project?

Organisations often try to push the price up. “Can’t we put this in as well? And that?” Just to get more out of the grant. I understand why. Plenty are so cash-strapped they want to squeeze every pound they can.

But are you after the money, or do you want to deliver the project? If you’ve properly costed it, that’s the amount you ask for. I push back on this, with grace, and I always explain why. I’ve refused to write bids that weren’t fundable. If a client insists against my advice, they pay an upfront fee. I’ve written more about this in Why Smart Charities Say No to Money [LINK].

The Numbers

In my experience, bids that are properly tailored, where we’ve done the homework together, succeed about 70% of the time. Rushed ones, sent because somebody wanted something in, manage 40% at most.

That’s what the homework buys you.

The Art of NOT Being Stupid

Write a fresh opening paragraph for every application. Lead with impact, not with the fact that you’re applying. Tie it to that funder’s own aims. Keep a solid bid pack of core facts, policies and figures, but rewrite the story every single time. Ask for what the project costs, not what you wish it cost. If you’re not sure you’re ready to apply at all, work through the Funding Readiness Checklist first.

Final Thought

Before your next bid goes, read the whole thing out loud and ask one question: could this have gone to any other funder? If the answer is yes, it isn’t finished.