I used to think AI was evil.

Not just risky. Not just lazy. Evil.

The kind of thing that would flatten the craft, cheapen the work, and steal jobs from people who actually care about the words they write.

And if I’m honest, I was mostly afraid it would steal mine.

I messed around with AI a bit when it first came out, out of curiosity more than anything. But I didn’t trust it. I didn’t see a real use for it. And I definitely didn’t want to build it into my process.

I sent a text after the presentation:

I think that went well? The client was a little quiet.

My colleague replied quickly:

Yeah, went great. Only reason she was quiet was ‘cause she was in the car. She may wordsmith a few things, but we’re 98% of the way there.

And then I admitted what I didn’t really want to say…

In a world where everything’s digital, mailing a letter to a donor might feel as cutting edge as downloading a song from Napster.

But here’s the surprise: direct mail is still one of the most powerful ways to discover—and develop—your next major donor.

You could call them creative.

You could call them empathetic.

You could even call them interested.

But the best copywriters I know… the ones whose words actually drive a response… are relentlessly, annoyingly, and unreasonably curious.

Your organization just invested in a new brand strategy, and it’s… amazing.

The tagline is brilliant, the tone-of-voice slides are polished, and the values? They’re alliterative and inspiring.

But now you’re staring at a blank Google Doc, trying to marry your brand strategy with your donor appeal letter. And that amazing strategy? It suddenly feels like a weight on your back.

“Have you figured out how to work in marketing and still be a good person?”

A colleague asked me this half-joking, half-serious question a while back. And honestly? It’s a fair one.

Marketing—and fundraising in particular—has a reputation problem.

Ask the average person what comes to mind when they hear the word fundraising, and you’ll likely get responses like “manipulative,” “salesy,” and “pushy.”

Sadly, those impressions don’t come from nowhere.

But here’s what might surprise you: the Apostle Paul, the theological heavyweight of the New Testament, used many of the same tactics we see in modern marketing… and he used them in his fundraising appeals to the early Church.

If you’re a copywriter, you’re probably used to writing in someone else’s voice.

It’s one of the strangest things about the job. Your name’s never on the bottom of the letter or email, but your fingerprints are all over it.

And if you do your job well, no one ever knew you were there.

That’s the goal. Your copy doesn’t sound like a marketer. It sounds like the person your reader knows and trusts.

The founder. The pastor. The leader in the field. The real human on the other side of the work.

Because in fundraising, voice is connection.

Picture this: You’re standing on a busy street, clipboard in hand, trying to get passersby to stop.

You call out, “Join us!” And then?

Crickets.

Your message falls flat because nobody knows what “Join us” means.

Join who? Join how? Join for what?

Yet nonprofits use this same vague, uninspiring call-to-action in their fundraising copy every day.

Most appeals I read start on Sunday.

They skip the pain.

Skip the tension.

Skip the story.

And head straight to the win:

“Lives are being changed—please give to keep it going.”

But here’s the thing:

Sunday’s glory makes more sense because of Friday’s grief.

Nonprofit fundraising is inherently emotional. As we’ve talked about, giving itself is a decision ultimately driven by the heart.

But fundraisers often mistake excitement for authentic emotional engagement by peppering their messages with exclamation points.

You’ve see it before…

• Your gift will change lives!

• Donate today to make a difference!

• Thank you for your generous support!

The problem? Overusing exclamation points can feel insincere, desperate, or even manipulative. They aren’t shortcuts to real emotional connection.

Back in elementary school—in the glorious awkwardness of the 1980s—I had a pretty sweet dating strategy. Maybe you remember it (or are guilty of using it) it too.

I’d scribble a note that simply asked, “Will you go with me? Check yes, no, or maybe,” then fold it neatly and pass it along, my heart pounding like I’d just diffused a nuclear bomb.

Fast-forward a few decades, and thankfully I learned a crucial fundraising lesson early in my career…

I have a confession: I’ve never used a semicolon—not once.

Sure, I use colons, commas, and parentheses all the time. But never semicolons.

I learned this early on from my first boss and mentor in the fundraising business, Rick Dunham. He’s a man whose copy is as clean as his desk.

When it comes to fundraising copy, you have 0.2 seconds to hook someone. That’s it.

This means the first line of your fundraising appeal has one job: make the reader want to keep reading.

If it doesn’t, you’ve lost them before they even get to your carefully crafted ask.

Here’s something I didn’t fully appreciate about myself for a long time: I’m a sensitive dude.

Growing up, I thought this was a weakness. I mean, I was the kid who cried at freakin’ “Little House on the Prairie.” So trust me, being “too sensitive” wasn’t exactly celebrated on the playground or at work.

Then there’s my undergrad psychology degree. I used to think it went to waste. After all, I didn’t become a counselor or do groundbreaking research, so what was the point?

You might have a great story to tell your donors, but the brutal truth is that people are busy. Our brains also have limited cognitive resources and we’re quickly overwhelmed by too many words.

Despite this, many copywriters make the mistake of drowning their message in excessive details, which causes readers to mentally check out.

If you want to grab attention and be persuasive, you need to be fast and precise. That’s why I want to help you master the art of precise copywriting—or, the art of getting to the point.

Imagine you’re at a dinner party. You’re seated next to someone who spends the entire night talking about themselves—listing their achievements, rattling off their job title, and throwing in a few vague buzzwords about how they “strive for excellence.”

Are you engaged? Inspired? Ready to connect?

Or are you looking for a stick to gouge your eardrums out?

Fundraising is all about connection. Because you aren’t just asking for people’s hard-earned money. You’re inviting them to impact lives, bring hope, and transform our world.

But here’s the kicker: the words you choose can either make or break that connection.

Time and time again, I see nonprofits relying on the same tired, uninspiring, and downright damaging language. In fact, there are three little words that pop up in fundraising copy so often, they’re practically become cliché. The worst part? These words are actively working against you, making your campaigns feel transactional, forgettable, and painfully generic.

It’s sad but true: A lot of fundraising copy sounds like it was written by a committee who’s mindlessly talking at you. Like they’ve never met a donor (or actual human being) in real life.

Their message sounds stiff, formal, and downright boring. The problem? It’s missing the magic of conversational copywriting — the kind that actually makes people care and thus, engage.

Let’s face it: writing persuasive fundraising copy can feel like herding cats—with cats being distracted donors, limited budgets, and competing priorities pulling you every which way.

But there’s a time-tested framework to help your words resonate deeply, engage your audience’s emotions, inspire trust, and ultimately drive action.

It’s called Aristotle’s Model of Communication.