I know that I set high standards when I talk to people about proposal writing. A few people have confessed that they’ve felt a bit intimidated when they know they were writing a proposal letter I would be reading. 

 

I hope that feeling hasn’t prevented anyone form submitting a great idea; I can assure people that I often look at letters to see what may be there between the lines. Often I’ve seen that projects that had more to them than the proposal letter indicated, just as I’ve found projects that didn’t live up to what was written in the proposal letter. 

 

 

One challenge of grant writing is that it is both a science and an art. The past few weeks I’ve been thinking about a good analogy that would help grant writers to better understand these two sides of grant writing. 

 

 

My wife is a big fan of So You Think You Can Dance. And, I admit that I find some of the dance routines interesting, especially those produced by choreographers such as Sonya Tayeh and Mia Michaels. Their work has a unique style, such that now I can watch a routine and know if it is a Sonya Tayeh or Mia Michaels work. It’s not unlike being able to read a piece of narrative and identify the author by its style.

 

 

Dance also has something in common with figure skating, such as we’ll see in the upcoming Winter Olympics just to the north of us. Dance and figure skating both have technical elements. The overall success of a performance, be it dance or figure skating, depends both upon the sophistication of the technical elements and the artistry used to combine those technical elements into a routine. 

 

 

There’s an analogy to grant writing here. There are technical elements that a funder wants to know. Who you are? What your organization does? Where it’s located? The key to a compelling proposal is how those answers flow together in a narrative. 

 

 

In dance, figure skating, and grant writing you lose impact when you fail to carefully knit the technical moves (answers) and thus interrupt the flow of the narrative. 

An example of this is the perennial conflict between the Russian approach to figure skating and the approach of American skaters. Americans tend to emphasize their athleticism, focusing on how flawlessly executing the technical elements. Unfortunately this focus often sacrifices artistry. They focus so hard on building speed and position to execute the element that routines often appear to be a patchwork of technical elements stitched together. 

 

 

Russians focus on artistry. They still have to executive the technical elements, but they also realize that moving from element A to element B can be done with some flair and grace. 

 

 

Another example of this is Circe du Soleil. If you’ve ever watched one of their performances you’ll notice that even the process of performers moving to their starting positions is integrated into the performance. Performers don’t just walk or climb into position, they soar and leap. 

 

 

The pairing of technical elements and artistry is one reason I hesitate to endorse online applications and common grant applications. Too often these approaches require grant applicants to answer questions that are all set off in individual boxes. There is little, if any way, to tie those technical answers together in a compelling narrative. 

 

Even though you may not always have the opportunity to use your narrative, I urge grant writers to write a narrative for every project they promote. The writing of that narrative often poses questions to address as you refine your project. 

 

That understanding of your project improves the quality of your other interactions that may affect you project such as the informal presentations, conversations, and reports to funders. Even if a funder’s formal grant application limits the artistry of your presentation, you have so many other interactions with funders that allow you to interweave the technical information in a compelling, and artistic, manner.