Ever since I figured out how to read (which, according to my mother, was a belated, yet impressively instantaneous phenomenon), I’ve been ravenous to consume words on a page.

Antsy at the kitchen table without a book to crack, I’d read the back of the (non-sugar) cereal box for the millionth time—although not particularly satisfying (neither the box, nor the cereal), it would do in a pinch.

I elevated my relationship with Pizza Hut’s BOOK IT! reading challenge to a status disproportionate to the stakes.

I entered and won spots at several Young Authors Conferences with breakthrough pieces on topics including: shy kid crushes hard on school desk partner; tween auditions for musical at sleepaway camp (write what you know, right?).

I’ve joined (and non-confrontationally disappeared from) multiple book clubs.

I will always, always schlep reading material on a bus or train (should I ever ride public transit again), pack four extra books on vacation “just in case,” and prefer a paperback to Instagram.

And on rare occasion, I’ll meet a book I wish I’d written.

My most recent I’ve-misplaced-the-confidence-of-my-youth-and-can’t-possibly-author-a-book-now regret is that Jessica Pan wrote Sorry I’m Late, I Didn’t Want to Come: One Introvert’s Year of Saying Yes before I could.

Introverts, unite

In Sorry I’m Late, Pan, once an “unhappy introvert,” details her year-long pursuit of “perilous social situations” in an attempt to see how extroversion might change her life. She had me from the first page, where she posits two types of people in this world: those who join hundreds of thousands of fans at massive music festivals, and those who watch said festivals “on TV from afar as though it’s a horror movie.”

Gah, I wish I wrote that line! (Seriously, if I ever again have to elbow my way across Michigan Avenue against the grain of Lollapalooza revelers, it’ll be too soon.)

Pan opens herself up to “daunting experiences” such as initiating conversations with strangers in public places and performing a comedy set live on stage.

I could easily turn this post into a glowing book review, but the most relevant takeaway for our purposes here is the reminder, on the heels of World Introvert Day, that introverts embody many of the strengths that make for successful fundraising and communications leaders.

Reading the room

Early in my nonprofit development career, I was excited to join a regional conference session about fundraising for introverts. Back then, a fundraiser was stereotypically characterized as a schmoozer—a term never once used to describe me. Yet I knew my disposition did indeed lend itself to the development field, one where deep listening and astute appreciation of nuances in human behavior is critical to building relationships.

I looked forward to experts imparting this knowledge to folks in the development community. I nodded along as panelists praised introverts as articulate communicators and perceptive observers of social cues. But as I shared knowing smiles with similarly bobbing heads, I realized the speakers were preaching to the choir: chairs were filled with like-minded introverts who self-selected into the session. Personal affirmation? In spades. But conveying potentially career-changing information to our extroverted bosses? Well, those folks were scattered elsewhere through the hotel’s maze of meeting rooms.

Pan describes herself as shy, but not all introverts are. They may, for example, shine as

presenters, and then require alone time to recharge before facing crowds again. And while introverted colleagues may appear quiet compared to those who “take the lead” with their voices, we are hard at work listening, synthesizing, and planning.

To be sure, an effective team has a mix of personality types, ideally positioned to maximize each person’s strengths. Consider those capabilities when you want a…

• gift officer who honors the donor by listening to them versus talking at them.

• writer who thoughtfully interviews donors, faculty, and program officers, taking cues from averted eyes, nervous foot tapping, and the slightest shifts in tone—and intuitively responds in kind.

• consultant who takes stock of the big picture versus one who comes in hot with irrelevant (at best) or detrimental (at worst) directives.

• team player who cedes the limelight, allowing donors and volunteers to take center stage.

• communicator who invests resources to understand your audience and craft applicable, engaging messages.

Not necessarily the loudest in the room—we tend not to talk just to talk or fill up space—when an introvert does choose to speak, you probably want to listen.

Happy World Introvert Day, friends!

If your organization wants to elevate its audience-driven development messaging and is considering a nonprofit communications consultant, contact me today—I'm here to help!

*Wordplay edges out spelling.