Confession. I do not know everything. This will stun absolutely no one, especially anyone who has watched me bypass perfectly clear instructions in favor of “I’ve got this.”
If I could walk into a Build a Mentor Workshop and design one from scratch, here is what I would select. Someone who built a successful nonprofit without starting with seven figures in the bank. Someone who made something out of nothing and little institutional know how. Someone who can look at my ever expanding list and say, “These three things matter. The rest can wait.” Someone who understands the frustrations, without treating that frustration like a character flaw. I have questions constantly. Some can be solved with a search bar and stubbornness. Others require a class. But every so often I hit a question that does not justify a four hour seminar and a spiral bound workbook about synergy. That is where mentorship comes in. I am actively looking for it.
Not someone who dissects organizations for sport. I want someone who understands borrowed equipment, thin margins, and the uncomfortable faith that this just might work. I need a mentor who can corral my occasional “squirrel!” moments and say, calmly, “Focus. Build this first.” Accountability matters. I am fortunate to have strong business guidance, but nonprofits operate in a different ecosystem. Legal nuance. Public trust. Donation stewardship. Board governance. From a distance it looks like business. Up close, it plays by different rules.
I am in conversations with a couple of individuals to see what wisdom they may be willing to share pro bono. They may not have founded their own nonprofits, but some people prove their competence by how they operate, not by the titles they invented. That kind of experience still counts.
Now, about these newsletters: I genuinely enjoy writing them. They force reflection. They show you how the sausage is made, and occasionally how the sausage machine jammed and required percussive maintenance. I have always wished I could read someone else’s unfiltered notes as their dream was taking shape. This is my attempt at that.
That said, we may be appearing in your inbox more frequently than you expected. Judging by our open rates, many of you are reading. Which is flattering. And mildly terrifying. We are not stopping. We are simply shifting to a biweekly rhythm. Fewer emails. Stronger signal. More substance, less word count gymnastics. If you do not see us next Sunday, do not panic. We are still here. Just sharpening the pencil before the next round.