12 Ways To Conquer Fundraising Fear Without Crying In A Supply Closet

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If you think public speaking is scary, asking for money is like doing it while skydiving—with no parachute.” So, you’ve been asked (forced or voluntold) to help raise money for your favorite charity.
Well, welcome to the Nonprofit Fundraising Club. You are not alone. In fact, you’re in a massive, sweaty-palmed club of nonprofit tribe of do-gooders and boardroom escape artists who would rather wrestle a porcupine in a vat of Jell-O than ask someone for money.
But here’s the truth: fundraising doesn’t have to feel like a social root canal. With the right mindset (and maybe a paper bag to breathe into), you can turn terror into triumph—and maybe even have fun along the way.
Congratulations, you’re normal! No one is born knowing how to close a $10,000 gift, unless you’re Warren Buffett—and even he probably practiced in the mirror first. Fundraising is a skill, like salsa dancing or tax evasion (just kidding, IRS). You get better by practicing. Start by asking your mom for a $20 donation. If she says no, ask the dog. Then move up to real donors. Baby steps. Wobbly, beautiful baby steps.
Great! Donors don’t want a cheesy used-car pitch. They want to see your passion, not your impersonation of a game show host. Be real. Be human. Leave the glad-handing to politicians and creepy hotel managers.
Ouch. If you wouldn’t fund your own mission, why should anyone else? Get reconnected to your impact—or get help fixing what’s broken. You can’t fake passion. Donors can smell it. And unlike you, they won’t pretend they can’t.
You will… Count on it! Embrace it. You’ll call someone by the wrong name, or say “orgasm” instead of “organism” in a pitch about soil conservation. Laugh it off. Donors aren’t robots—they’re humans who’ve probably said worse at Sunday brunch.
Then don’t ask yet. Warm them up first. Invite them to your event. Send a thank-you note for showing up. Compliment their scarf. Then gradually move from small talk to the big ask. Fundraising is not speed dating. It’s more like a slow, respectful tango… with less touching.
Then they’ll tell you, and you’ll both survive. You’re not asking them to buy a yacht—you’re inviting them to change lives. If you’re unsure of their capacity, ask small and work your way up. Don’t assume. (Some of the wealthiest people look like they just wandered out of a Goodwill bin.)
Yes, and people own more than one pair of socks. Donors give to multiple causes all the time. You just have to show them why your cause is sock #2. Or #5. Or the one with llamas on it. Whatever. Just make your pitch stand out.
So you’re in the fundraising version of a standoff. Here’s the move: focus on the mission, not the friendship. Or let someone else do the ask. If she does ask you to give to her cause, just say, “That’s adorable,” and change the subject to raccoons, pickleball, or astrology.
Okay, fair enough. But here’s the deal: if you’re not comfortable doing the ask, then at least warm the oven. Introduce them to the mission. Let someone else bake the fundraising cake. You’re still helping—just not holding the fork.
Take a deep breath. A “no” is not a breakup. Most donors are far too polite (or Midwestern) to ghost you over a fundraising ask. If you’re respectful and not a pushy psycho, they’ll admire your courage—even if they don’t give.
Easy. Say, “Great question. Let me get back to you with the best answer possible.” Then sprint back to the office, talk with the person with the thickest glasses sitting in the corner, and respond within 24 hours. Boom. You look humble, honest, and trustworthy. Triple win.
Yes. But don’t be a tactless buffoon. Acknowledge the tough times. Offer flexible options (monthly pledges, delayed gifts, hugs). The key is making your case with empathy. People still give, even in tough economies—they just give to the causes that make them feel something. Ideally joy, inspiration… or mild guilt. Whatever works.
Fundraising is weird. It’s scary. It’s awkward. It’s also one of the most powerful, meaningful things you can do in this lifetime—besides inventing a dishwasher that puts the dishes away too.
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