Embracing the Grant Writing Process: Why Failure is Part of the Journey

Lately, in my attempt to navigate middle age with poise and grace, I’ve been focusing on my health and well-being. I’ve committed to getting adequate sleep, drinking more water, reducing stress, and—perhaps most challengingly—hitting the gym.

But as we all know, change is never easy.

While my journey has been intentional, it’s also been a process—and not an easy one. I’ve had to juggle my kids’ schedules, find an experienced trainer, learn proper squat form, and come to terms with the humbling reality that I can barely do one sit-up and can’t bench more than 95 lbs.

But it hasn’t been all bad. In fact, this season of give and take has brought more wins than losses. Since committing to my health, I’ve lost 20 lbs., have fewer physical aches, and can climb stairs, bend, and squat with ease. I feel strong and confident. Most days, it’s absolutely worth it.

That was… until Thursday.

Recognizing my consistency and commitment, my trainer decided to incorporate boxing—my favorite workout—into our session. We met on the second floor of our local YMCA. I strapped on my gloves, ready to go.

“Alright, Rocio,” he said, instructing me to add in-and-out jumps between sets.

I hesitated. After all, I’m still a heavy woman in my 40s. That alone should’ve been a red flag. But I felt confident. I’d been training for weeks.

So I went for it.

It felt amazing—exhilarating, even. I jumped out, then in. Out. In. Then—snap.

I don’t know if it was audible, but it was deafening to me. A sharp pain shot through my knee. Swelling began almost immediately. I knew something was wrong. This wasn’t something I could just walk off.

“How could this happen?” I thought as I hobbled to my car. “I’ve been trying so hard. I’ve been consistent. Is the world conspiring against me?”

I didn’t know if it was a sprain, a tear, or something worse. Do I rest it? Push through? How long will this last? Will I even recover?

Now, as I sit here on a quiet Sunday afternoon, I’m trying to stay positive. My knee is still swollen, and though the pain has dulled, it’s a steady reminder that—for now—things are out of my control. I’ve scheduled an appointment with an orthopedic doctor for Monday, hoping for answers.

But even amid the uncertainty, there’s a small part of me that smiles. A quiet whisper in my mind reminds me of something important. It’s almost drowned out by doubt and fear, but it’s still there:

I will be okay. This is just part of the process.

The More You Do, the More Things Will Go Wrong — And That’s the Point

It’s logical if you think about it: the more you do, the more chances there are for things to go wrong. So how do we avoid the pain and frustration of failure? We stand still.

But the problem with standing still is that it gets you nowhere. And for many, that’s fine—until standing still becomes the least desirable option. Eventually, the discomfort of stagnation outweighs the fear of failure, and only then do we move forward.

And as we do, things will go wrong. You might fall. You might fail. You’ll probably feel overwhelmed. But if you keep moving, something else happens: the chances of things going right also increase.

That’s the nature of growth. It applies to life—and it definitely applies to grant writing.

If you’re new to the world of grants and looking to diversify your funding, know this: it’s a process. Sure, you can hire someone to write a grant for you. But real grant writing—the kind that builds sustainability and helps your organization grow—takes time, learning, and effort.

And yes, things will go wrong. You’ll miss deadlines, get rejected, and feel discouraged. But that doesn’t mean you’re doing worse. It’s a numbers game. The more you do, the more things may go wrong—but the more you do, the more things will also go right.

There’s data to support this. The 2024 State of Grantseeking Report, published by GrantStation, highlights this clearly:

“Submitting a higher number of applications increased the likelihood of winning awards. Among organizations that submitted just one grant application, 62% won an award. But 88% of those who submitted three to five applications won at least one, and 96% of those who submitted six to ten applications received funding.”

Let that sink in: submitting more applications increases your chances of success.

Yes, that also means more denials. But in the world of grants, rejection matters far less when you're winning. This is the life of a growing nonprofit. Loss is part of the process—it’s expected. You keep going anyway.

So today, I challenge you to start.

If you're an organization in need of funding, start researching grant opportunities. Submit an application. Get rejected. Feel the sting. Process it. Then do it again—smarter, stronger, better. Keep going until you start to win.

A Lesson from My 13-Year-Old Son

I tried to explain this recently to my 13-year-old son, a passionate basketball player. And like many teenagers, he’s not exactly known for deep, reflective conversations. I was in the middle of one of my passionate monologues about effort, failure, and success—going on and on, really building momentum—when I paused and asked, “You know what I mean?”

He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and said in his calm, teenage way,
“I get it, Mom. You take more shots, you gon’ miss more shots.”

We locked eyes—and in perfect unison, we both said,
“But you make more shots.”

And isn’t that what it’s all about?

Conclusion

In life, in grant writing, in health, and in basketball—growth is messy. You will miss. You will fall. But you will also win. Keep moving, keep learning, and most importantly, keep shooting your shot.