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Gangs, Again

Hot on the trail of yesterday’s post about L.A. gangs and statistics, the New York Times published “Los Angeles Combating Gangs Gone International.” It begins:

Two gangs that originated on the streets here have grown so large in El Salvador that there are two prisons in that country devoted exclusively to their members, one for each gang, according to officials who traveled there recently to meet with the local authorities.

That is just one measure of the way gangs in this city with the worst gang problem in the United States have bolstered their presence in Mexico and Central America, where they attract new members eager to come here.

Over the course of the article, you won’t notice any numbers regarding how many active gang members operate in L.A., and not until the fourth paragraph do you actually learn that its premise rests on 23 people being convicted of extra immigration crimes. In addition, the only two people quoted are, for lack of a better term, anti-gang professionals; evidently the reporter knows what Isaac said about narratives:

If you’re having difficulty building your argument with data, a good technique is to call local “experts” for quotes. For example, find and call the police unit responsible for gang suppression in your target area, then ask leading questions. Invariably, the officer will tell horror stories about rampant gang activity. Just ask if you can quote her and she will almost always agree. It’s always fun to include the names of some local gangs in your proposal for a dash of reader titillation.

I’ve written about questionable New York Times articles on my personal blog, and there is something vaguely rotten about “Los Angeles Combating Gangs Gone International.”

You also don’t get the names of the gangs, but one is almost certainly “Mara Salva Trucha” or MS-13 (sometimes spell “Salvatrucha”), which is famous enough or has good enough PR to merit a Wikipedia page, although you shouldn’t necessarily trust what you read there. Still, given all the publicity MS-13 has received, you can always cite Bloods, Crips, and MS-13 affiliates as making up your local gang problem.

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On Gangs and Proposals

As Isaac wrote, it almost never hurts to claim gang activity in a proposed service area (“[. . . f]ind and call the police unit responsible for gang suppression in your target area, then ask leading questions. Invariably, the officer will tell horror stories about rampant gang activity.”). Now, by way of Freakonomics, I found an L.A. Weekly article on the subject:

Eventually, James started talking. He told me he’d started gangbanging when he was 12. “I got shot when I was 15, and that’s when it got bad,” he said softly. “I got extreme after I got shot.” James started teaching youngsters from Nickerson how to gangbang. Using rival gangbangers for practice, he taught his students how to hunt and kill. “You teach a person how not to take losses, how to be gladiators, run them down, gun them down,” he explained.

James wasn’t remorseful, but he was far from proud. In truth, he seemed numb; his life of crime and death hung about him in a static haze. There is a personal demilitarized zone in the advanced lives of former hardcore gang members, should they survive their 20s, where they live as neither soldier nor citizen. James said he struggles to keep a gun out of his own hands every day, but that in January he was tempted to join the battle with the Grape Street Crips after a young Bounty Hunter he knew was killed.

Steven Levitt of the Freakonomics Blog says he can’t agree with the article’s conclusion about increasing violence:

Landesman argues that the gang problem is worse than it has ever been, and that gang violence hasn’t dropped the way other crimes have. A quick glance at the homicide rates among young black males over the last 15 years shows that this statement just can’t be accurate. The biggest declines in homicide have been among young black males, both in absolute and percentage terms.

What Levitt doesn’t address is the possibility that gangs are getting worse in Los Angeles, which is the area covered by the article, even if the situation is improving nationwide. Judging from articles like “The Story of a Snitch” in The Atlantic, which covers Baltimore, I wouldn’t be surprised if gang problems are changing rather than abating. Or maybe programs like G.R.E.A.T. are having some effect, as The National Institute of Justice (NIJ) argues. This seems improbable but possible, and I don’t know of anyone who has examined the methodology of the NIJ’s study.

The preceding paragraph again goes back to Writing Needs Assessments: How to Make It Seem Like the End of the World by demonstrating how statistics can be attacked and why you shouldn’t necessarily trust conclusions found in the popular press or elsewhere. They can be changed and challenged in an actual proposal. If you’re writing one, you usually have an incentive to make the area or situation appear as bad as possible so you can remedy problems through your project.

Consequently, when writing about a target area, you’re better off claiming gang activity, since most reviewers aren’t going to be aware of gang trends nationwide, and even if they are, you can announce that gang activity in your area is rising, as the L.A. Weekly reviewer did. You could also cite Levitt, as I do, and then attack his reasoning.

As with most things about grant writing, there are some local aspects Levitt doesn’t know about, and in this case it’s something everyone in South Central does: Nickerson Gardens, a public housing development, is among the worst areas around. Here’s one example of its history: “The Nickerson Gardens is considered by many as the most violent, drug infested, crime riddled neighborhood in the country.” It’s a very scary place and, ironically, there’s a street running through called “Success,” which reminds me of Soviet propaganda about worker achievement and happiness.

Success Ave

(Click to here to see the full image.)

When I talked to Isaac about this article, he immediately said that he bet that the Housing Authority of the City of Los Angeles (HACLA), which owns Nickerson, hasn’t tried to use the HUD HOPE VI program to revitalize Nickerson. He was right, and HOPE VI also hasn’t been attempted at the other three public housing projects in Watts: Jordan Downs, Imperial Courts, and Avalon Gardens. Nickerson was also right in the middle of the civil disturbances in Watts in 1965 and the Rodney King incident in 1992, and 15 years later it remains a place of hopelessness and gang activity. Despite the street name, there is little success in Nickerson.

This is the kind of revisionist information you could include in a needs assessment about the area. The stories embedded would add flavor and help counteract what Levitt writes, so even if the reviewer happens to know a lot about gang activity, which is improbable, he or she would still award you points for need.

EDIT: This post covers similar territory.

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Writing Needs Assessments: How to Make It Seem Like the End of the World

Almost every grant proposal requires some form of needs assessment. More or less, the sentiment one must get across it that “It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine,” as REM says. Essentially, the object is to make problems look overwhelming, but solvable with just a dollop of grant funds. So, how does a grant writer do this?

Start by making the end appear nigh, which requires a needs assessment. Look at the Census data available at American Fact Finder, which has a variety of geographic choices (e.g. county, city, zip code, census tract, etc.). It is almost always best to match the project target area with a census data geographic area to make assembling data easier, regardless of whether the census area perfectly matches the area you want to serve. Try not to make the target area, “the Westside of Dubuque,” unless that happens to conform with four census tracts. Most geographic areas have 2000 Census data, as well as estimates for 2005. Pick the date that is to your advantage, and being to your advantage means making the situation look worse. For example, if incomes have been trending downward and unemployment upward due to plant closings, the 2005 data may be better. Announce that, if current trends continue, Dubuque may be abandoned completely in 2010 because there are too few jobs, but the situation can be improved with the requested grant.

Once you have your target area, find useful socioeconomic indicators like ethnic breakdown, median family income, age cohort percentages, percent of people living below poverty, percent with disabilities, etc. Only include data that supports your case. A winning grant proposal is not like a thesis, so you are under no obligation to use all available data. Also, it is critical that you provide some data on a larger area for comparison purposes, so your readers understand the relative problems. This can be the city, the county, state or even national data—pick whichever makes your situation look worst, meaning with the greatest discrepancy between the target area and the larger sample. It doesn’t really matter which geographic level you compare to, as long as you can say something to effect of, “The target area median family income is just 2/3 that of Los Angeles County.” Depending on the target population, it may be advantageous to compare data for a particular ethnic group to all residents. For example, if the target area includes a significant African American population with lower incomes, you can set up tables showing African American indicators versus white indicators for the same geographic area, in essence comparing the target area to itself. American Fact Finder has a handy tool on the left button bar for “Fact Sheet for a Race, Ethnic or Ancestry Group” that makes this easy to do.


(Click here to see the full image.)

You can also use census data to obfuscate the actual reality in the target area. For example, in many Southern California cities there are high percentages of Asian Americans, who in some communities have higher-than-average incomes. This can be used for statements such as, “over two in five residents is a person of color.” For better or worse, most grant reviewers will usually associate persons of color with lower incomes and higher risk factors whether this is true or not. Grant reviewers seldom have a deep background in statistics and they probably don’t even know statistics for journalists let alone real statistics. Even if they do, everything starts to become a haze after reading a dozen federal proposals that can be onerously long, so most reviewers are apt to begin looking more for conclusions than data not long into the process. Do you somehow fulfill the checkbox that asks whether educational attainment is lower in the target area than the nation? If so, give ’em five points and move on.

Other good sources of data include state and local departments of education. Some states and school districts have better data engines than others. For example, the California Department of Education has a great site, DataQuest, but other states’s data system are, as Borat would say, “not so much”. If a good data engine/warehouse is not available, find the school/district reports cards mandated by the federal “No Child Left Behind” legislation. Many districts try to hide these reports, as they are often unflattering after you get past the mission/vision statement platitudes, but if you dig hard enough you will find them. If necessary, call the statistics unit at the district or state and force the reports out of them.

Once you have data, only use what helps the argument. So, if test scores for certain grades are low relative to the county or state, use those, not all test scores. If you want to use dropout data, use the four-year derived rate, not the single year, which will be much lower. In some states, such as Illinois, drop out data is wildly understated, due to the way the state treats students who are no longer in school, so if you have to use it, underscore this fact. Health data, including disease incidence, mortality, etc., can usually be found at state and local health department web sites, while crime and gang data are typically found at police department web sites.

If you’re having difficulty building your argument with data, a good technique is to call local “experts” for quotes. For example, find and call the police unit responsible for gang suppression in your target area, then ask leading questions. Invariably, the officer will tell horror stories about rampant gang activity. Just ask if you can quote her and she will almost always agree. It’s always fun to include the names of some local gangs in your proposal for a dash of reader titillation. This is particularly important if the reader is on proposal 35 out of 40 and just wants to go find the hotel bar. You can also find the name of any large social service provider or city official in the target area (other than the one for whom you are working) and ask them about local problems with the target population. For example, if you seek information about at-risk youth services and you talk to the local Boys and Girls Club executive director or city parks director, this person will almost always say that new problems are erupting every minute while their funding is declining.

This gives you the opportunity to write something like, according to Conrad Cuttlebone, YMCA Director, “there are many more latch-key kids in the community since the Hindenburg Dirigible Factory closed, and we’re seeing many more cases of domestic violence, while at the same time the county cut our funding by 50%.” When all else fails, you can simply write, “although specific target area level data is not available, the agency knows anecdotally that teen pregnancy is on the rise, mirroring national trends.” Of course, you can do this even if the local area doesn’t match national trends, as most reviewers don’t have the vaguest idea about national trends for anything.

In other words, while it is not a good idea to make up data, it’s perfectly fair to exaggerate problems through obfuscation and specious analysis. You’re generally rewarded for such effects: the worse the target area, the more likely you are to get points, and the more likely you are to be funded.

The gentle art of writing needs assessments really comes down to painting word pictures that combine cherry-picked data with opinions and anecdotes strung together to meet the expectations of reviewers, who assume something terrible must be going on in your community, or you would be doing almost anything other than writing a grant proposal, such as watching my favorite college football team, the KU Jayhawks, trounce Virginia Tech in the upcoming Orange Bowl. Rock! Chalk! Jayhawk! KU!

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12-14-07 Links

* You may want to read this post from The Wealth Report in the Wall Street Journal, which details supposed changes in the way the rich give or the way they want to give. It’s light on detail but worth pondering:

Today, at the peak of the charity season and the height of the wealth boom, the charity world needs to wake up and realize that the rich have changed. The new wealthy aren’t content to write checks and hope for they best. They are self-made entrepreneurs who want to give away their money just as they earned it — by measuring everything, by being in control, by cutting out waste, and by finding a more-efficient way to deliver a service. They want transparency and concrete results.

(Robert Frank, who writes The Wealth Report, is also the author of Richistan: A Journey Through the American Wealth Boom and the Lives of the New Rich.)

* Rolling Stone has an interesting article with lots of good history as well as numerous questionable causal assertions concerning politics. It, combined with books like The Corner, demonstrates why drug treatment programs are never going away:

Cocaine is now as cheap as it was when Escobar died and more heavily used. Methamphetamine, barely a presence in 1993, is now used by 1.5 million Americans and may be more addictive than crack. We have nearly 500,000 people behind bars for drug crimes – a twelvefold increase since 1980 – with no discernible effect on the drug traffic.

* Got links we should post? Send them in.

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Studio Executives, Starlets, and Funding: Part II

In Part I of “Studio Executives, Starlets, and Funding,” I began by responding to a commenter who said:

<blockquote>I cannot shake the observation that to get a grant you must tell people with the money what they want to hear […] But there seems to be no objective criteria by which these grants are awarded […]</blockquote>

Today I’ll mostly deal with the second part.

You’ll sometimes find objective criteria and sometimes not. The former usually corresponds to government grants and the latter more often to foundation/corporate giving sources. The thing is, you can’t generalize the myriad of funders in the grant universe. Most federal grants will have points and criteria, and the more diligently you work to fulfill those criteria the better off you’ll be. I just looked at our email grant newsletter and found the “Smaller Learning Communities Program.”

Follow that link to “V. Application Review Information,” where you’ll find a list of criteria with point values. The agencies with the most points get funding. With most Federal, state, and local government grants, some number of proposals will be funded; it’s not like the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction, which doesn’t give awards if the judges consider no novel or story collection worthy.

If the funder says they’re offering $500,000 for after school supportive services, and you want to provide prison rehabilitation and drug abuse reentry services to adult offenders, you’ve got the wrong funding source. Sometimes there’s a middle ground—if you want to provide bilingual education, you might apply to my hypothetical program by saying you’re going to deliver after school supportive services in two languages to at-risk youth. Now you’ve told the funding source what they want to hear and you’ve done what you want, so barring other considerations you’re at least in the running to be funded.

Contrast that with most foundation sources: they often give broad guidelines, you submit proposals, wait, and hope for a phone call or letter. You seldom get point lists, but you’ll often get guidelines. If they say they only fund in Cupertino, San Francisco, and Northern California, and you’re in San Diego, you’ve at the very least discovered that the funder is unlikely to be interested in you. If you want to raise your probability of being funded, look for funders who are interested in San Diego.

But it’s their money, it’s a free country, and as long as a foundation distributes 5% of its assets to something vaguely charitable each year they can do what they want, including violating their own guidelines. More often than not, the best you’ll be able to do is submit a complete and technically accurate proposal written to the best of your ability with whatever attachments and paperwork they ask for. If they want a two-page letter, don’t send them an eight-page proposal, and the same if the reverse is true. I keep repeating the phrase “complete and technically accurate proposal” for a reason: people who do it are more likely to get funded than not, and you can rage against the opacity of funding sources if you want to, but probably won’t get you funded. Note how “probably” creeps into my post.

Do whatever you can to increase the probability of your application being reviewed favorably. Chances are, if you follow the snarky golden rule (“He who has the gold makes the rules”), you’re more likely to be funded. After all, he who has the gold makes the rules. But even if you follow the rules, you might not be funded. That’s just how it goes, and if you accept that and keep applying and working at what you’re doing, you’ll eventually succeed.

But nobody knows anything, including me. Good luck.

(COMING ATTRACTION: Make sure you apply to programs you actually want to run! See it in theaters and on this website soon!)

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Studio executives, starlets, and funding

In William Goldman’s hilarious Adventures in the Screen Trade*, he wrote, “Nobody knows anything.” Nobody knows how much money a movie will make or which movies should be made or what audiences want. Goldman cites movies a studio thought were a sure thing and flopped, and movies every studio but one rejected, only to see it do such astronomical business that every executive in the studio could buy a Beverly Hills pad and live like Ari Gold in Entourage.

Any smart studio head will they say, “I did it once with Star Wars, so why can’t I do it 50 more times with Space Battles and Sun Fight and so on until I exhaust my thesaurus?” This is grossly unrealistic because it assumes studio executives own a thesaurus, but the point remains that if they could reliably pick billion-dollar movies, they wouldn’t have to spend so much time agonizing over scripts from those ungrateful striking writers, putting projects together, trying to get Russell Crowe and his $20 million and 20% deal on board, and doing the 750,000 other things required for a movie to have what they consider a shot at the big time. In other words, they want to find an algorithm for finding a sure thing, so instead of all of that studio executives could skip straight to the mansion-and-floating-in-the-pool-drinking-mai-tais part of their lives, which is why studio executives became who they are. If they’d gotten in for another reason, they’d probably be picketing the Universal lot.

As a result of this effort at picking winners, studio executives have spent enormous amounts of time and money on screen tests, re-cuts, edits, and probably much I don’t know about, all in an effort to discover whether if their movies will succeed. Despite all this effort, most movies still bomb.

Nobody knows anything. If they did, movies wouldn’t bomb so often.

Many of you might be thinking, “I’m at a site about grant writing, right? And if so, why am I reading about Hollywood?”

It actually has a lot to do with grant writing. A commenter to our fourth post writes: “I cannot shake the observation that to get a grant you must tell people with the money what they want to hear […] But there seems to be no objective criteria by which these grants are awarded […]” Telling funders what they want to hear is a fine observation because you should follow whatever guidelines they provide.

The golden rule cliche says, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” The almost-as-old, snarky version goes, “He who has the gold makes the rules.” If you want to make the rules about who gets funded, you have to lead a federal agency or start a software company, make more money than some countries’ GDP, and endow a foundation. Assuming that Bill Gates isn’t reading this, you’ll have to follow the rules of whoever has the gold, and if you don’t want to follow them, you’re less likely to get funded. You should follow the funder’s instructions if you want to be funded, just as studio executives know that if they want their movies have a better chance of success they should hire Kate Winslet.

You can maximize your probability of being funded by submitting technically correct proposals written and prepared to the best of your ability. This will improve your odds of being funded, which in part includes making sure that you follow whatever submission guidelines are available.

To be sure, no one can be certain whether a given proposal will be funded. Almost anyone who makes guarantees about funding is probably doing something unethical, exaggerating their connections, or simply lying. It’s also difficult to gauge the likelihood of a particular proposal being funded because you probably won’t know many other factors: the other applicants to a program, the mood of the reviewers, who the reviewers are, how many other applicants there are, whether the funder has hidden priorities, the phase of the moon, etc. Like studio executives picking movies, you won’t always know what the audience wants, despite what the audience may say.

Sometimes the funder will want agencies with long track records, sometimes new agencies. Sometimes funders will have geographic preferences—if you’re working for an organization in the Northeast, for example, and the Northeast has brutal competitors while practically no one from the Southwest bothers to apply, and if the funder wants to fund programs evenly in the U.S., then it’s possible that an otherwise good agency with an otherwise good program won’t be funded in the Northeast. Notice the preceding sentence’s length and how many caveats it contains, and that’s only for a single hypothetical factor. Multiply that by fifty or a hundred or infinite factors, right up to whether a reviewer knows where the proposed evaluator went to college and doesn’t think much of that college, which happens to be his college’s rival, and you’ll start to realize why no one can guarantee funding no matter how great an applicant and application might be.

Still, as an organization applies, it should pay some attention to whether its proposals are consistently rejected. As the Seliger + Associates FAQ states:

Over time, you should achieve a 25% – 50% success rate. If less than 25% of your proposals are being funded, you’re probably doing something wrong (e.g., incomplete application packages, ineligible applicant, etc.). If more that 50% of your grants are being funded, you probably are not stretching the envelop far enough by trying to get grants to extend your agency’s service capabilities.

So, to go back to the commenter, who writes about how there seems to be no objective criteria by which these grants are awarded, I’ll give a short answer now: it depends on what you’re applying for. This post, however, has been extended long enough, so Part II will deal with that and come next Monday. Any successful post ought to have a sequel, action figures, and lunch boxes.

Part II is now live.

*An essential book for anyone who wants to better understand the movies they watch, and, implicitly, why so many are abysmal.

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Zombie Funding – Six Tana Leaves for Life, Nine for Motion

Jake’s post on Zombie Funding got me thinking about my favorite Zombie program, the Urban Parks and Recreation Recovery (UPARR) program. This oddball program emerged in 1978 during the Carter administration and was supposed to link economic development with park development, a curious combination even by federal standards. In 1979, I wrote the first two UPARR grants, one for planning and one for implementation, while working as a full-time grant writer for the City of Lynwood. The planning grant was particularly fun to write, as the City only had two parks and it was quite a stretch to dream up complex planning tasks. But such is the joy of grant writing. The Bureau of Outdoor Recreation (BOR) Program Officers, a group that really knew how to party, was so impressed that they invited me to the first, and probably only, annual UPARR conference in San Antonio. Not much of a conference, but I did get to shake hands with Henry Cisneros, a rising political star who might have been President, except for a minor personal peccadillo.

Time passed, and when Reagan rode into D.C., UPARR was one of the first casualties. I assumed it was gone forever, but I failed to take the Zombie factor into account. It was never actually killed. Instead, it was kept out of appropriation bills, which brings me to the Tana leaf effect. Those of you old enough to remember the seemingly endless Mummy movies (see the link for a nice discussion of these films, which were a childhood staple of mine) will recall that it takes the juice of six Tana leaves to keep the old boy in bandages alive and the juice of nine Tana leaves for motion! At nine Tana leaves, the mummy threatens the leading actress, but that part of the analogy doesn’t stretch into the proposal world.

Now, flash forward to 1994, shortly after we started Seliger + Associates. We got a call from a city interested in applying for UPARR. I checked and to my amazement found that the BOR had been giving six Tana leaves to UPARR for 13 years. When Clinton got elected, they went to nine Tana leaves and UPARR stalked the land once more. Even more fun was that BOR had done such a good job of hiding the program that the eligibility rules had never been updated—to apply, the city had to be on the original eligibility list from 1978, which was based on the 1970 census. Along comes G.W. Bush and BOR goes back to six Tana leaves, so UPARR is once again slumbering.

Depending the vagaries of the ’08 election, the scraping noise you hear behind you might be the UPARR Mummy creeping again, after having gotten its nine Tana leaves. Let’s hope they keep the old eligibility list, so I get to work with almost 40-year old census data again. For a real blast from the past, check out the table names for the 1970 census. Political correctness had not quite arrived.

The moral of this story is that the feds almost never completely eliminate funding programs; they just go into suspended hibernation like The Thing from Another World, yet another of my favorite childhood movies.

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They Say a Fella Never Forgets His First Grant Proposal

1972—A 21-year-old kid who’d taken a few Saul Alinsky-style courses in community organizing found himself as a Community Organizing Intern working in North Minneapolis, the mostly Black neighborhood in which he grew up, for the Minneapolis Housing and Redevelopment Authority. His supervisor, Helen Starkweather (who may or may not have been related to the better known Charlie Starkweather), a former AFDC mom and new careerist, let him loose to work on any of the manifold problems in the community.

After conducting a survey of the dozens of vacant and abandoned houses, a problem that existed long before the current subprime meltdown, he decided to ask the Willard-Homewood Organization (incredibly, WHO is still active) for an okay to set up a Vacant Housing Task Force. This led to a series of home improvement seminars and the realization that there were no local hardware stores, making it difficult to even find the tools and supplies necessary to repair homes. What to do? Aha, set up a cooperative hardware store. He asked around and was told, form a nonprofit organization and get some grant funds. He didn’t know what a grant was, but blasted ahead, formed the nonprofit and wrote a grant proposal that was funded for $5,000—big money in 1972 and enough to get the operation going.

The naive young man was of course me, and I thought this grant writing thing was pretty easy. After decamping to LA on a cold morning the following January in my rusted-out ’65 VDub by taking Route 66 (yeah, I stayed in Flagstaff and I didn’t forget Winona), I learned the hard way that there is more to successful grant writing than passion. Thirty-five years later, I’m still honing my skills. But I’ll never feel better about the universe than when I picked up that check from an aging 1930s radical who was a manager at the funder, Farmer’s Union Central Exchange, a producer cooperative long since merged into an energy conglomerate. This old guy in a conservative suit knew another radical when he saw one and was delighted to once again be stirring things up. I’ve long lost my radical ideals, but I still love crafting the small stories that are the stuff of successful grant writing.

I’ll be posting thoughts about grant writing, including tips, anecdotes and random observations about this most unusual occupation, based on my long journey and more proposals written than I like to think about. Posts from my son, Jake, who grew up with grant writing, will probably offer a less cynical and considerably less grizzled view.

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Zombie Funding

Programs can be engorged with money one year and fall off priority lists the next. The Assistance to Firefighters Grant Program/Fire Prevention and Safety Grants demonstrates this better than almost any other, as it had more than $500,000,000 available in 2006—and this year it has all of $2,750,000 (warning: .pdf link). In other words, the Department of Homeland Security, or Congress, or someone, ran out of money for or interest in firefighters.

This absurdly abrupt change in funding also demonstrates why you should apply for attractive funding opportunities as soon as you see them because they might be gutted next year. While old programs are seldom outright eliminated, it’s not unusual for zombie funding sources to keep lurching about without real funding. Occasionally they’ll spring back to life with an infusion of cash, but this is unusual without some impetus.

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About Us

Seliger + Associates provides comprehensive grant writing, grant source research and related services for public and nonprofit agencies throughout the United States. Formed in 1993, we have had over 500 clients in 40 states and have written over $175,000,000 in funded grants.

This blog is maintained by Isaac and Jake Seliger. Isaac has been working in nonprofit and public agencies for more than 35 years, and in that time he’s written hundreds of proposals. He has probably seen every manner of proposal blunder imaginable and has seen endless grant fads come and go, and you will have a chance to read his observations, reminiscences and anecdotes, while picking up useful tips gleaned from a lifetime of staring down proposal deadlines.

His son, Jake, is fond of telling potential clients that while some people grow up with parents who own Italian restaurants and thus inherit recipes for marina sauce, and others have parents who are developers and thus know their cities’ zoning laws intimately, he was raised by a clan of grant writers who were eager for the next round of YouthBuild or SAMHSA grants to be released. As a result, his knowledge of grant writing is broader and deeper than anyone else his age. He also operates Seliger Editing & Writing and writes the literary blog The Story’s Story.