First Bob called. He's with a college. Head of communications. Then Jen called. She's with a hospital. VP in charge of major gifts.

Both have new capital campaigns in hand. Both have written cases for their campaigns. And both are getting those cases rammed back down their throats by aggressive internal critics.

I've read both cases. They are strong: persuasively rational, emotionally satisfying, crisply written. Ready for release.

Yet the internal critics howl for changes. "Improvements." Additions and redrafts. Jen and Bob are now at their wit's end, and I am a collegial shoulder to weep on.

If you run into this situation yourself, remember, please: it might well be that your demanding internal critics do not actually know how a campaign case is used. In other words, they are critiquing in a vacuum. Which is the polite way of saying they don't know what they're talking about.

A campaign case is a tool. It exists to help with a job. That job is the solicitation of major gifts.

Criticizing a campaign case if you've never seen how major solicitations are successfully made is like trying to design a hammer without ever having seen someone nail.

It's a reference and a leave-behind

I'm just back from speaking up in Toronto, at the 2009 AFP Congress, a tightly crafted and energy-filled event.

One of the wonderful things about going to so many conferences is I get a chance to buttonhole experts like Guy Mallabone, CFRE, VP External Relations at SAIT Polytechnic in Calgary. Guy is an extraordinarily successful fundraiser. Joyful, funny, really tall. In 2009 he was named one of Alberta's 50 Most Influential People. Asking for major gifts is part of daily life for him.

I asked Guy to take me step by step through how he physically uses a case in a typical meeting with a prospect. This is how he likes to work:

1. He goes in, case in hand. He puts the case on the desk but doesn't open it right away, nor does he hand it off to the prospect. The last thing he wants is for someone to be flipping through a document while he's talking.

And talking is the point. When the moment's right, Guy opens the case and draws the prospect's attention to a key talking point, mentioned either in the text or in an illustration.

2. The conversation continues. Guy's listening. He draws the prospect's attention to another key talking point in the case, something especially relevant to the prospect's interests.

3. Ultimately Guy makes the ask. When he departs, he leaves the case behind with the prospect, as a handy reference.

And that's how the tool is used. It acts (1) as a quick reference document during the ask and (2) as a leave-behind once the ask is made. It is not sent in advance. The first time the prospect sees the case, there's an interpreter present, and that interpreter is Guy.

The 97/3 rule

In big capital campaigns, the 80/20 rule is dead, says major gifts expert Tony Myers, M.A., LL.B., CFRE, another featured speaker at the 2009 AFP Congress in Toronto. The 90/10 rule is a corpse as well.

These days, Tony insists, the 97/3 rule holds sway: 97% of the money for your campaign will come from just 3% of your prospects.

This has implications for your case. Although sometimes they're fancied up to look like brochures, a case is not a mass marketing document. It is an informational piece seen by a relatively small group of people: the 3% who give 97% of the goal. For a campaign goal in the tens of millions, that 3% might number no more than a few hundred people.

So: the case is collection of talking points that the solicitation team can bring to face-to-face meetings with a few hundred prospects, hoping to intrigue, excite, or try to find a match with a prospect's particular interests.

The solicitation team might include several people, Tony says. There would be a fundraiser like him, a "major gifts officer." There might also be a "content expert" in attendance, such as the head of a university department, to answer technical questions about the project. And there ideally would also be a peer a.k.a. "influencer" a.k.a. "moral authority" in the room, another big donor who has already supported the campaign.

The peer might point to something in the case and say, "Here's why I thought this project was worth my money."

The content expert might point to something in the case and say, "Here's what makes this project so uniquely important in our field."

The major gift officer's primary function is to mouth the words, "Would you be kind enough to consider a gift of $100,000?"

Tony likes to use the case as a tool for cultivation as well as information. He asks the prospect for her suggestions on how he might improve his case.

No one says no to that request. Jerry Panas recommends the same thing: stamp "DRAFT" in red on the cover of your case and invite the prospect to comment. When someone does you the favor of acting as an editor, they will read every syllable.

And the truth is, you are deeply interested in your prospects' opinions. Feel free to send these reviewers your most tortured, oft-criticized draft. They will be thrilled to tell you how awful it is. Donor feedback, in fact, is the only kind that matters. Your harping internal case critics are irrelevant, because they're probably not making gifts

>>> Takeaway >>> The last chapter in my book on writing cases (Seeing Through a Donor's Eyes) states (based on expert opinion, not on my opinion) that a poorly written case will not hurt a worthwhile capital campaign. That's because the real selling is done by the people in the room during the ask, not by a printed document.