{"id":248803,"date":"2026-11-11T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-11-11T14:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thewaterproject.org\/community\/?p=248803"},"modified":"2026-11-11T09:25:24","modified_gmt":"2026-11-11T14:25:24","slug":"what-it-takes-to-ask-once","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thewaterproject.org\/community\/2026\/11\/11\/what-it-takes-to-ask-once\/","title":{"rendered":"What It Takes to Ask Once"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

This is an installment in the \u2018Still Reading the Handbook\u2019 blog series featuring newer members of our team.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I started with The Water Project in March of this year. I\u2019d written for nonprofits before, so I knew roughly what the job was going to be. But this was one of the larger organizations I\u2019d worked for and I was flabbergasted at how many things I had to juggle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The envelope<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Somewhere in a stack of mail on somebody’s counter, there\u2019s an envelope with my fingerprints all over it. Obviously not literally. But I helped pick the envelope, I wrote and edited the copy on the flap, and I had opinions about where the little box goes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You\u2019ll look at that envelope for about four seconds, and you\u2019ll either use it or throw it away. And both of those are fine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But let me tell you a little bit about all the work behind those four seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Ebby with a full container at her community’s water point in Kenya<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The pile<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A build spec and copy for the landing page. Ten emails, each with its own copy, banner, and subject lines I wrote far more versions of than I\u2019d admit to. There\u2019s digital ad copy. A letter, an outer envelope, a reply device, maybe even a lift note and a bounceback card. All of this to build just one well-rounded campaign.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think that\u2019s the part people picture when they hear \u2018marketing\u2019. Writing and designing a lot of stuff is most of the job.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Shanice, outside her school in Kenya.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The decisions<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the content I make is not the only work. There\u2019s also the amount of decisions. Most of them are small enough that nobody would ever ask me to defend one, but this is exactly why they add up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Take the photo chosen for a marketing email, for example. I spend a lot of time in our image library. Choosing one isn\u2019t just a matter of finding a nice picture. A photo of someone carrying water home tells you about the problem. A photo of the day the water arrives tells you what a gift did. Those are two different emails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then there’s what each email is for. Ten emails is not one email sent ten times. The first one has to earn the second one, and so on. You have to build an arc: here’s a place, here’s what’s needed, here’s the ask, here\u2019s how your donation is used, spread out, all without repeating yourself or adding too much fluff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then there’s who gets what. Someone who gave last week should not open an email asking them to give this week. That sounds obvious, and it is obvious. But it\u2019s also another task as somebody has to build the list that makes it true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few of the decisions are about what to leave out. To give an example: we don’t put a dollar gap in the emails, so no “we\u2019re $4,000 short.” It makes the ask about our shortfall instead of about the water. But you can’t show anybody the sentence you didn’t write. There\u2019s no folder on my computer called \u201cRestraint\u201d. So some of the hours go there, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Students drinking clean water at their school’s tap.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The point of it<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I step back and look at all of this, I think about how all of that work exists so that a community somewhere far away ends up with water that works. Written down, that looks backwards. Enormous effort, one modest ask, one well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it definitely isn’t backwards. Like most things, the more work that goes in behind it, the less work it should look like from the front. A good meal, a clean edit, a repair someone made properly – you\u2019re not supposed to see it. And at the end of it, somewhere, there’s water that works.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Four seconds. Use the envelope or throw it away, both are fine. I’ll still be over here arguing about where the box goes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Written by: Vanessa Sherwood<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Senior Marketing & Communications Specialist<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Water Project<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Other blogs from the Still Reading the Handbook<\/em> series:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Close to Home: What I’m Learning About Water in My First Months at The Water Project<\/a><\/blockquote>