Soliciting small donations is called fund-raising. It involves straight-forward requests, bake sales, pay-per-mile jogs, and beef-steak dinners. It is not glamorous. Soliciting large donations is called development¹. It is glamorous. It involves managing relationships (see: SalesForce, Convio, Kintera.) People who work in development are ostensibly paid a premium because they either have or are capable of building a network of high net-worth contacts from which funding can be extracted. The more general the cause they advocate for, the more important they become.

Most not-for-profits favor development over the solicitation of small donations. This preference was probably justified in the past but now exists as a historical artifact — a philanthropic appendix.² The cost of building and maintaining a motivated army of constituents was much higher twenty years ago than it is now. However, with the advent of internet-based communications, it can now be practically free in terms of time and money. This preference may now persist due to certain cognitive biases. It may appear as though finding one large donation is more likely than finding N small donations of equal aggregate value.

For small highly-focused organizations, I believe this nearly ubiquitous preference is sub-optimal. The constituent beneficiaries also have networks of contacts: their friends and family. The relationships between the constituents and their friends and family are likely to be far stronger than anything a development professional could build. I have been impressed by the generosity of my own family and friends in supporting my cause. I was also impressed by the initial strong push made by the Chordoma community in general after I offered them a fund-raising tool. Unfortunately, the initial success of community fund-raising was soon marred by swift appearance of fund-raising fatigue. Ignoring the poor quality of the first implementation, I completely missed a very important feature set: feedback. I believe that novelty combined the promise of proactivity resulted in a strong drive at first. However, after funds had been collected, there was a post-endeavor funk. Money had been raised, but there was no obvious coincident progress made on the non-monetary front. (Such an expectation is not rational nor was it encouraged, but I assume it was a quietly held assumption nonetheless.)

I believe feedback mechanisms could alleviate this problem in the same way that repetition in marketing leads to consumer interest. Early on it was decided that coaching mechanisms — nagging reminders, occasional notifications of non-monetary progress, and reports on historical donors that have not given recently — would be beneficial. Unfortunately, life intervened and I never implemented those features. This is unfortunate as I subsequently concluded that such mechanisms are crucial. (I think MoveOn.org’s email campaigns are a paragon of good feedback mechanisms in fund-raising. Ignoring the accompanying inane commentary, they are brutally effective.)

I should also note that in favoring beneficiary empowerment, the organization does not preclude the possibility of receiving large donations. Again, exploiting the social connections of your constituents gives you a far deeper social reach than that offered by development professionals. For causes that affect people randomly across socio-economic parameters, you’re going to find some potentially wealthy individuals. The constituents are engaging in the search for wealthy donors at no expense, in time or money, to the organization. If they tease out a potential large donor, why should they then be referred to a development professional? The potential donors interest is already piqued. Now they need to be convinced that their money will not be given in vain. They need to be sold on the efficacy of the organization. The development professional could (and basically does) play this role. However, since it has already been established that the donor is a strong lead, this role could also be played by someone intimately involved in the actual decision making of the organization.

Obviously, I have made a lot of assumptions in asserting the superiority to community-style fund-raising over top-down development work. Some of these assumptions are known to me, but I am probably ignorant of others. I encourage the reader to leave comments to help guide me while building Fundify, which will act as a test of my fund-raising hypothesis.³ Expect to see an alpha with active deployment sometime in late December / early January.

Notes:

1. I strongly dislike the term development in this context, but it’s part of the industry nomenclature. In the non-profit world, development means a combination of marketing and one-on-one salesmanship.
2. Medical g33ks: I understand this might not be strictly true. Please refrain from commenting that this not a perfect analogy.
3. Actually, Fundify is being built to raise money for Chordoma research, a rare type of cancer. I have Chordoma. I would like to not have to worry about Chordoma. That being said, focusing on testing my hypothesis is a better motivational tactic. Intellectual curiosity is a robust motivator; Terror inspired by mortality is a persistent drain.

Please visit my page, share it on facebook and twitter and your blog, and vote for my org.

Chordoma Sucks

Notice: I am a die-hard capitalist and a quasi-libertarian. This is not a post from some “proto-typical non-conformist with a vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs.” This was written by a guy who enjoys Ayn Rand.

In freshman year of high school, I made a lot of money spamming. Some of this success can be attributed to being lucky and being a teenage boy. Teenage boys basically have an option on life. If they do something really risky and it pays off, they get the rewards. If they do something really risky and it ends very badly — well, boys will be boys. It’s a pleasant asymmetry (for the teenage boy.) However, a significant portion of my success as a spammer can be attributed to a simple fact: writing a spammer was very interesting. It was challenging. It was a perpetual game of cat and mouse. Money was more of a collateral benefit than a primary motivation. Majorska vodka is not expensive.

Immediately after college, I had a minor existential crisis. This is not uncommon. College was great. College afforded me a ridiculous amount of free time to pursue my intellectual interests. This is not because college was rigorous; this was because college was not rigorous. I learn best independently. Going to college on my parent’s dime allowed me to spend practically all my time playing in areas that I found fascinating. The conclusion of my undergraduate career brought with it the termination of my favored learning style.

I was not happy. In order to reacquire my intellectual freedom, I did what any irrational, over-confident fool would do: I tried starting an online dating website. I wanted enough money so that I could sit in front of my computer and in my reading chair for a few years. I wanted to continue exploring. Writing an online dating website was not interesting. It was not challenging. It was not a game. My motivations were purely monetary. It was a project for cash — a means to an end. The result? It did not solve any of my problems. When I finally realized that the project was a bad idea, I sold it for about $35,000 on nine months of work. Considering the project’s purpose: FAIL!

Presently, I will be undertaking yet another web development project titled Fundify. My motivations for Fundify are not financial (at least, not in the typical sense.)  This project must be done and I am capable of doing it. The reward for me: it may help save my life. This is a (perhaps too) strong motivation. Since I have not yet left my job (another week probably), I have not been coding it yet; I dislike the after 9-5 job context switching. Instead, I have been planning the project to a degree that is unusual for me. Running a project Monte-Carlo simulator in my head for two weeks is a new experience.

My initial instinct was to release Fundify as an open-source application. It is a product for empowering the fund-raising arm of small-medium size non-profit organizations — specifically a small non-profit that has the potential to greatly benefit me. (I really like me.) An open-source project seemed like a particularly good fit. However, the simulator that is my brain was quick to point out that charging a nominal fee for hosting and maintaining this product would be just as beneficial to the non-profit organizations as an open-source product…while making me money. Finding a developer to install the software, set up an SSL certificate, and create a merchant account all take time. The goal of Fundify is to minimize time spent fund-raising by non-profit organizations. They have better things to do. Paying, say, $50 a month might actually be cheaper than spending time finding a volunteer developer.

Given this conclusion, I started to enumerate all of the responsibilities associated with running a business around this product. My motivation depleted — quickly. This is roughly the time I finally learned my lesson: money isn’t everything. If I were to build a business around Fundify, the set of mundane tasks would (significantly) overwhelm the set of interesting problems to solve. For me, costs({Legal Issues, Client Obligations, Heightened Security Concerns, Banking Issues}) > benefits({Money Earned, Testing my Fund-raising Hypothesis, Raising Funds for My Cause}). I’d rather burn through my savings building Fundify while dealing with the interesting bits than earn money for my labors while adding mundane responsibilities. Money isn’t everything. (I wonder what else my mother was right about.)

To be clear, I still want a bank-vault sized pile of money but I have accurately recognized why I want it. I don’t really care about a big house and a fancy car. I might someday; I don’t right now. My cramped apartment is sufficient. What I really want is the financial freedom to sit in a quiet room by myself and explore my ideas. Money provides this opportunity more than an academic career. The latter still imposes constraints that I am unwilling to bear. Maybe it’s a symptom of Peter Pan syndrome. (Although, if it is, I am sure it is very common amongst g33ks.) I prefer to think that being unconstrained can allow for long jumps versus incremental improvements while searching for novel solutions to problems I find interesting. An equally plausible explanation: I prefer no responsibilities. That does sound like Peter Pan syndrome.

In 2004, I was diagnosed with a very rare type of cancer. Following my surgery and an extended period of reading the academic literature on the disease, it became obvious that I was not cured.  Worse than that, there was little active research that had the potential to cure, or at least manage, Chordoma. Being an insufferable libertarian, I opted to start a 501(c)(3) organization, The Chordoma Research Foundation, with the sole purpose of aggregating funds and awarding grants to researchers.

At the time, (as a result of well-hidden bug,) I believed I would soon have access to a lot of money. Consequently, I formed the Chordoma Research Foundation as a funnel through which I could increase my donor potential (i.e. receive tax deductions.) I was largely uninterested in developing a proper full-fledged not-for-profit effort. I understood how research worked; the need for interdisciplinary facilitation; and the importance of starting projects sooner rather than later. I just wasn’t motivated. If my big payday came, I could buy research. Money opens doors. If I could spend my time doing what I had a passion for while being able to pay for research myself, it would have been ideal. My big payday did not come (and has not come – yet.)

Happily, pure dumb luck intervened. My parents, fueled by desperation coupled with a bit of good old fashioned common sense, decided to send a letter to our family and friends explaining our compelling need for research. The concise version:  please give us money so our son has a chance of not dying before his thirtieth birthday. It raised tens of thousands of dollars – quickly.

Inspired by the success of this campaign, I envisioned a web-app that could replicate this success across many people affected by Chordoma. Unfortunately, it was a pretty uninteresting project. Web development is not intellectually stimulating. My potential big payday project was (enjoyably) intellectually exhausting. The brief inspiration and motivation I experienced after my parent’s campaign was insufficient. Instead of building my web application, I only designed a simple website explaining the cause to other people with Chordoma.

Serendipity intervened — again. By this point, my small website for a very rare disease was receiving about three phone calls per day – a not insignificant amount. Initially, this produced mostly friendships (shout out to Bill Dorland, Michael Torrey, and a collection of other friends who do not have URL end-points.)  Soon, it yielded more tangible rewards. One day in August, while stuck in traffic heading to a Counting Crows concert, Simone Sommer called me. Her son, Josh, had gone through roughly the same experience as me and she also found the current state of research to be unacceptable. She wanted to be involved. To be precise Dr. Simone Sommer – a credential that, shockingly, opens doors in the medical community – wanted to be very involved.

Over the next few months and after many extended phone calls with both Josh and Simone, it became clear that they were willing to do all the things I knew had to be done but was uninterested in doing. More than that, Simone’s M.D. and Josh’s proximity to Duke – which housed one of the few researchers who was making headway into Chodoma research – meant they could do it better than I could. I (happily) passed the torch to them while I pursued my big payday (which is still, as of 2009, yet to arrive). They established the Chordoma Foundation. I dissolved my foundation and folded my assets into theirs.

For a while, I played a minimal ongoing role in Chordoma community. I continued to speak with a lot of patients, but only because I had already established relationships with them. I continued to follow papers on Chordoma – and discuss them at length with Josh – but that was mostly to satisfy my perpetual curiosity. (I am a if the plane is about to crash, I want to be in the cockpit type guy.) My father sits on the Chordoma Foundation’s board. I do not. My mother coordinates community outreach. I do not. However, late last fall, it became clear that they had reached the point at which money was the primary bottleneck. Earlier, the Chordoma Foundation had hosted a fantastically successful international, inter-disciplinary research conference. Cross-pollination of ideas occurred. Research was proposed…and, undertaken. Interest was piqued. Now, the low hanging fruits were gone. Now, there were calls for money. I was compelled to develop a prototype.

Initially, it worked well, although I am not convinced it raised money above what would have been raised anyway. It did help by connecting many people to each other, acting as an ad-hoc, emergent support group. This might not have translated directly into money, but it obviously was beneficial to the community.

Why didn’t it work as well as I expected? It was a sh*tty implementation! I hacked it together in four weeks in anticipation of the Thanksgiving fundraising season. We even launched it two days prior to Thanksgiving. It’s not really shocking that an idea only half-conceived was not fully-successful. Fundraising was not attributed in real-time; was not always accurate; and the feedback mechanisms employed were noisy. Additionally, one of the most important features, coaching (i.e. nudging) was never included. Unfortunately, disinterest asserted itself…again. I halted further development and took an internship in DC. Fundify was not yet to be.

Fast forward one year – present day. I just quit my job in order to properly build Fundify. This time, I am motivated. The project has not become interesting. It merely ceased to be something I can push off any longer. All paths are now dependent on larger grants being awarded. Larger grants require money. Enter, Fundify.

Stay tuned.

I just sent the following letter of resignation. I did not want to quit now, nor is it an opportune time. I have approximately 4-5 months of savings. Considering the project I must implement will take 3-5 months — and will provide me with no income even after it is finished — I am pretty much parachuting without a net. Weeeeeeeee.

Dear Redacted,

Unfortunately, fundraising at the derivative of the non-profit organization that I started has been declining sharply. In the past few months, the amount raised is far lower than we require. This stagnation may be a reflection of some progress made or cyclical constituent fatigue. In either case, given the general state of funding for rare diseases right now, it threatens to arrest research progress that I am hoping will translate into improved clinical outcomes…soon.

While I happily shifted responsibility onto the willing members of the Chordoma Foundation and folded my established organization into their nascent one a few years ago, I believe I have to shoulder some of the burden again. Last year, I wrote an application that would serve small organizations with highly-motivated potential beneficiaries. It worked very well initially. However, due to mistakes in the design that were entirely my own, it has soured some of the fund-raisers and needs to be corrected. I have been trying to do a rewrite after work each day, but the context switching is proving to be an obstacle. Half of my time is spent recalling work I have already done. Consequently, I have been sacrificing good-practices in order to churn something out. I produced a mediocre product last year; I cannot afford to do so again. A high-quality, distributable product will require a full-time effort for 3-4 months.

While it was my intention to remain at Redacted in my current capacity while pursuing a PH.D in experimental economics hopefully starting next fall (more precisely, experimental economics with a strong focus on agent-based simulations), this does not seem to be an option anymore. I thoroughly enjoy Redacted, but I reluctantly must resign.

I will stay on until a suitable replacement can be found.

Sincerely,
John B Nelson