Fundraising Is 20% Asking and 80% Everything Else

(Or, What Sewing Has Taught Me About Advancement Services)

When I started sewing, I thought I knew what I was getting into.

Fabric. A sewing machine. Some creative flow. How hard could it be?

What I did not anticipate was how little actual sewing I would be doing.

Sewing, it turns out, is maybe 20% stitching.

The rest is measuring. Planning. Cutting. Recutting because you measured wrong. Pressing. Sewing something slightly crooked. Unpicking it. Pressing again. Googling “do I really have to press every seam.” Learning the answer is yes. Always yes.

Oh, so much pressing.

The sewing machine gets all the credit. The real work happens everywhere else.

Fundraising works exactly the same way.

The part we glamorize

The philanthropic transaction is the visible moment.
The ask. The gift. The handshake, metaphorical or otherwise.

That’s the part we celebrate. That’s the part we build hero stories around.

But it’s a small slice of the pie.

Most of the work happens long before and long after that moment. Quietly. Methodically. Often invisibly.

And when we forget that, we set ourselves up for the blame game.

Heroes, scapegoats, and skipped steps

When organizations define fundraising as “the ask,” front line fundraisers carry the emotional weight of the entire system.

If revenue is up, they’re heroes.
If revenue is down, they’re suddenly not doing enough.

Meanwhile, the rest of the machine hums along, under-resourced and under-recognized.

Dirty data.
Delayed gift entry.
Processes that live in someone’s head.
Stewardship that depends on who remembered what this week.

That’s like blaming the sewing machine when you skipped measuring, skipped pressing, and cut the fabric on a slant.

Ask me how I know.

A moment that changed how I see this work

Years ago, at an Association of Fundraising Professionals conference, I was talking with one of the speakers about advancement services.

Clean data. Coordination. All the behind-the-scenes stuff.

This was before data was cool. It is cool now, right? (Please tell me it's cool.)

At some point I said, “Aw shucks, I’m just a data person.”

She looked at me and said, “No. You’re a fundraiser.”

That was it. No dramatic pause. No keynote slide.

That sentence has stuck with me for more than twenty years.

Because once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

What if we really meant it?

We call advancement services “support.”
We call it ancillary.
We call it back office.

But advancement services is not “just services.”

It is the machine.

Here’s a small but powerful example.

If the data entry person is considered a fundraiser, the definition of a win changes.

The win is not only entering a gift correctly.
The win is a front line fundraiser flagging a new address.
Or sharing a preferred email.
Or passing along a small but meaningful detail from a conversation.

That moment of collaboration is fundraising.

That’s pressing the seam before you sew it shut.

The 80% we rarely applaud

Clean data is fundraising.
Data governance is fundraising.
Gift processing is fundraising.
Prospect research is fundraising.
Stewardship is fundraising.
Processes that work even when someone is out sick are fundraising.

These are not afterthoughts. They are not overhead. They are not optional.

They are the unglamorous, repetitive, essential work that makes everything else line up.

Just like pressing.

You can skip it.
You just won’t like the results.

What happens when leaders get this?

When leaders truly recognize that 80% of fundraising happens behind the scenes, things shift.

Less hero worship.
Less finger-pointing.
More shared ownership.

Wins look different.

A reconciled database is a win.
A clean handoff between roles is a win.
A process that holds up under pressure is a win.

And here’s the quiet payoff.

When the system works, the transactions tend to follow.

Not because anyone worked harder.
But because the machine ran smoothly.
Because trust accumulated.
Because no single person had to carry the whole project on their shoulders.

Just like sewing.

When you measure carefully and press as you go, the garment fits.
When you rush to the fun part, you spend a lot of time unpicking seams.

Again. Ask me how I know.

One question worth pressing on

(See what I did there?)

What would change in your organization if you treated behind-the-scenes work as fundraising?

Who would you thank differently?
What would you resource differently?
What would you stop blaming people for and start fixing together?

Try one small test.
Press the seam.
See what happens.