Less Teaching, More Feeling: How Tušti Narvai Tells Stories That Work
Created by Akvilė Harner (Growth Impact)
Created by Akvilė Harner (Growth Impact)
While reviewing Tušti narvai’s email performance across three recent fundraising campaigns, one pattern became clear:
Certain stories moved supporters to give and respond. Others, with the same ask, didn’t connect in the same way.
The difference wasn’t the amount of information we shared. It wasn’t how well we explained the issue. It wasn’t the facts or the statistics.
The difference was in how the story was told.
As Jeff Brooks writes, educating is not fundraising. Supporters don’t respond because they have collected enough facts – they respond because something in the message makes them care.
In this deep dive, I’ll break down what these stories did differently – and what they reveal about one guiding principle:
Tušti narvai operates in Lithuania, a country of around 2.8 million people.
Email is one of our main fundraising channels. Our mailing list includes around 50,000 subscribers, and storytelling plays a key role in how we engage subscribers and drive donations.
This deep dive focuses on three fundraising emails that performed especially well durring recent campaigns.
The emails we will look at are:
Looking closely at these three high-performing fundraising emails, one thing becomes clear: their success wasn’t accidental. Each one follows the same storytelling principles.
Rather than educating or reporting, these stories bring supporters close to a real moment, show what is at stake, and invite them into action.
Across all three emails – the fur farm investigator message, the veterinarian student’s testimony from the horse slaughterhouse, and Gabriele’s reaction to the piglet castration investigation video – the storytelling structure is consistent.
The story is not told in an organisational or reporting voice, but through a witness.
Each email begins with the sender witnessing something unbearable and sharing it directly:
“I just received a letter from someone who investigated many fur farms…”
“I must forward you the message I received from a veterinarian…”
“As soon as I started watching the video, I immediately realized…”
This is one of the reasons these emails feel so personal.
Supporters are not receiving an update – they are being spoken to by someone who has seen the cruelty up close and cannot stay silent.
The voice is human, honest and authentic.
Another key element these emails share is that the writer does not simply describe what is happening – she interprets it.
She puts words to what supporters are seeing and feeling, often in the exact emotional language the reader would use themselves.
To repeat, we found that effective fundraising stories are not neutral reporting. They are meant to guide the reader toward understanding and action.
These emails do that by naming the reaction: shock, anger, grief, disbelief.
In the piglet castration email, writer voices the reader’s outrage:
“As I watched some of the most brutal images I have ever seen, only one question rang loudly in my head: HOW CAN SUCH CRUEL ANIMAL TORTURE BE STILL LEGAL?!”
She also anticipates the reader’s response:
“I can predict that you, like me, find this cruelty beyond comprehension.”
And she acknowledges how difficult it is to witness:
“I know that, like me, it is difficult for you to read and see this.”
In the fur farm email, she translates what might otherwise feel abstract into plain moral language:
“This is complete absurdity.”
In the horse slaughterhouse email, she frames the story in emotional terms the reader understands:
“It was one of the saddest sights I have ever seen in my life.”
Across all three emails, writer does not leave supporters alone with disturbing images. She helps them process what they are witnessing, speaks in their language, and then channels those feelings toward action.
The story is not only about what happened to animals. It is also about what the supporter is meant to feel – and what they can do next.
We found that fundraising stories work best when they focus on individuals, not broad topics.
These emails are not about “animal cruelty” in general. They are about specific animals in specific moments – moments that make suffering impossible to ignore.
In the fur farm email, the story is told through direct observation from the inside Lithuanian of farms:
“Look at how dirty the cages are. They don't even take the corpses out of them.”
“Look how dirty, weak and wounded the animals are.”
“Look, animal parts are just lying on the ground.”
Instead of speaking in generalities, the email brings supporters face-to-face with what was documented.
In the horse slaughterhouse email, the cruelty is told through one unforgettable scene described by a veterinarian:
“But what stuck out the most in the slaughterhouse was when one man… was holding one horse head in one hand and another in the other hand.”
“He carried those heads and threw them into one pile.”
“The horses' eyes were still open in their heads, their jaw muscles still throbbing.”
“That fear in their eyes was the same as before they were slaughtered.”
The animals are not statistics – they are present, visible, and real.
And in the piglet castration email, the suffering becomes intensely personal through one detailed moment:
“Without injecting ANY PAIN AGENTS, the worker cuts off the little pig's tail.”
“A second later, he plunges the knife into the piglet's skin… and cuts through its testicles.”
“The piglet's squeal makes you want to cover your ears.”
“You can clearly see its eyes. There is nothing left in them, only indescribable agony.”
These are not abstractions. They are characters – living beings in pain.
The supporter is invited to see them not as part of a distant system, but as individuals whose suffering demands action.
A fundraising story should not end with the problem solved. It should end unfinished – with the cruelty still happening, the conflict still alive, and the supporter needed to complete the story.
The unresolved ending does more than create urgency – it also creates hope. After witnessing something cruel, supporters are not left only with despair. They are given a way to transform what they feel into action.
All three of these emails do exactly that. They do not offer closure. They offer a choice.
In the fur farm email, the story ends with the ban still under threat and the reader positioned as the one who can protect it:
“You have the power to ensure that for all 4 years, the members of the Seimas hear your request to protect the fur farm ban and suffering animals, not the wishes of fur farmers.”
The cruelty has been exposed – but what happens next depends on the supporter.
In the horse slaughterhouse email, after the veterinarian’s horrifying scene, the email turns directly to the reader:
“But you have the power to stop it.”
In the piglet castration email, the email makes the unresolved nature of the cruelty explicit:
“The worker places the newly castrated piglet, still trembling, in a cage. He goes to get another piglet, which awaits the same fate.”
The violence continues. The story does not end.
And then the supporter is given the role of changing what is still legal:
“But you can change that.”
Fundraising stories work when they create a cliffhanger – when the donor becomes the one who brings resolution.
These emails succeed because they do not let the reader simply witness suffering. They invite the reader to be the ending.
Another key element these emails share is that they never rely on a single ask.
When you tell a strong story, it’s easy for the call to action to get lost. Supporters may feel moved – but still not know what to do next, especially when reading quickly.
Readers skim, not study. That is why repetition is one of the most effective ways to ensure the action needed stays clear.
In all three emails, the call to action appears multiple times, so the supporter is constantly reminded what they can do next.
This repetition serves an important storytelling purpose: after showing something painful, the email does not leave the reader alone. It opens the door to action.
The supporter is reminded, again and again, that they are not powerless.
They can join. They can protect. They can help finish the story.
These emails succeeded because they did not try to educate supporters into giving.
Instead, they applied the core elements of effective fundraising storytelling: a human voice, specific and concrete scenes, clear emotional framing, repeated calls to action, and an unresolved ending that invites the supporter to step in.
The result is communication that doesn’t just inform, but motivates.