Does size matter? It’s an age-old debate among grant writers. Some will argue that smaller are harder because of the level of detail that’s necessary to compress; yet others will argue that larger is harder because there is a tendency to lose one’s way on long narratives.
While bigger may seem better, this is only true in the hands of a skillful grant writer. Bigger grants in the hands of the inexperienced can miss the mark entirely.
Veteran Sexy Grant Writers can attest to the fact that size matters in many aspects of grant writing and here are ten reasons why:
10) Bigger will stretch your margins (spacing).
9) Most require a substantial size 12 [font].
8) Length is rigid (narrative).
7) Most have ample appendices behind.
6) Large visual images (fantasy) can crowd out narrative (reality).
5) Too much won’t fit (pages).
4) Staples may be too short (binding).
3) Big foot(notes) infer deeper substance (not always an accurate assumption).
2) Long ones are hard to duplicate (photocopy).
1) The biggest ones can be awfully difficult to firm up (edit).
In the end, it is masterful manipulation that matters regardless of size. Concentration and attention to the satisfaction of the receiver of the grant brings the ultimate reward. Bad applications of any size are disappointing and anti-climactic.
Sexy Grant Writers know that size matters, but bigger is not always better.
Top Ten Reasons Grant Writers are Sexy
Photo Credit: Michal Ufniak
Grant Writers are Sexy Beasts: Why Can’t Everyone See It?
Red eyed and bleary after a late night and early morning before a 5PM deadline, I rushed out the door of my office about 4:53 PM to the post office with both grants completed. I didn’t even stop to put the stack of envelopes down to lock the office door somewhere secretly hoping that I’d be burglarized and have to start a new career outside grant writing – tomorrow – after a good night’s sleep. These grants had to be postmarked by 5PM and the post office was about two blocks from my office but I still jumped in the car tossing the envelopes into the front seat.
Cross traffic at the end of my block was heavy of course, it was rush hour. So I sat there cursing my luck, cursing my greed at taking on two grants instead of one, cursing my copy machine that jammed over and over again as I was printing the final copies, cursing the pagination error in one grant which I found as I did a final perusal that forced me to re-print the entire correct document. There was a lot of cursing going on, I was in a state of panic.
A gap appeared in traffic and I drove my foot to the floor lurching my car into the gap to the bewilderment of the now equally distressed driver; oh well, they couldn’t possibly match my dire straits: it was now 4:56 and the post office is prompt about one thing and that’s locking their doors at 5PM.
Traffic crawled the block to the post office and I scraped my front end zipping into the parking lot through the deep gutter. I parked, I grabbed my envelopes, and I raced to the door where a worker was posted with keys in hand admitting the final patrons of the day before locking us in and the tardy public out.
Standing there in line sweating with my bundles of envelopes I knew I’d made it to the finish line and my clients’ grants would be submitted as contracted for. I’d narrowly escaped the Sword of Damocles and the universe had given me the smallest crack to squeeze through and I’d gotten through!
Post Script – Both grants were successfully funded and all was right with the world, my application to a trade school for window washers was rejected for lack of prerequisites and I was forced to continue my career in grant writing. I did sell that photo copy machine to an attorney who dropped in while loading it into his pickup truck, the universe is so good to me.
Now that’s sexy!