Hi Friend,
The other day, LinkedIn (I think it was LinkedIn—isn’t it always social media sharing unsolicited celebrations with you?) reminded me I’ve been a freelancer for 18 years. I think officially the anniversary is closer to the end of May, but at this point the specific day doesn’t matter. It’s like trying to remember my age. Unless it’s a police officer or bartender asking, the exact number is mostly irrelevant to anyone who isn’t me.
18 years.
I’ve been a freelancer for as long as I lived in my childhood home. My career is voting age in my province. It can drive a car. In some places, it can drink alcohol.
In 2006, LinkedIn was still a baby. Facebook was forming. Marketing on social media wasn’t a thing because social media wasn’t a thing. (Side note: social media has made networking infinitely easier than it was when I started freelancing.)
When I was in my writing program, I viewed people who succeeded in freelancing as inspirations. To me, even 10 years in the business seemed aggressively unfathomable. Those who survived that long must have some secret formula for doing so, I thought. Maybe they drank a special potion every morning that made them irresistible to potential clients and attracted money to them. Maybe they were secretly wealthy and didn’t need their freelancing income. Maybe they had already taken all the good freelancing clients.
When I first started, freelancing was a day-by-day existence for me. Each day I woke up thinking, “I can do this for another day,” and after a while, I was able to string weeks, then months, then years together. Now, decades.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you focus only on the very next step.
I’d love to say it was incredible resilience, brilliant thinking, and long-term strategy that kept me in business for 18 years. That would certainly sound heroic, wouldn’t it?
“Yeah bad months happen but I stuck it through because I love this career and nothing could stop me from helping my clients. I’ve never once thought of giving it up, because that would be—in the words of Vizzini—inconceivable.”
Except I’ve had many moments of almost throwing in the proverbial towel. I’ve had days where I thought, “I’m tired of hustling. I just want a regular paycheque and someone to make decisions for me.” Or, “If I have to deal with one more terrible client, I’m locking myself in my room for a month with an endless supply of chips and I’m not coming out until my dog learns to write articles for me.”
I’ve had days of dreading waking up to sit at my computer, where I couldn’t fathom writing another word for another law firm who just wanted more of the exact same content every other lawyer wanted.
I’ve gazed longingly at full-time job descriptions and thought, “What if that were me?” as I scrolled through long lists of job requirements and “competitive pay” proclamations.
And while I generally do love self-employment, I can’t say that was only that keeping me going. Nor was my love of helping clients.
So what was it?
Fear.
Fear of having to find a job. Of possibly having to commute. Of no longer being in control of my schedule. Of getting to know coworkers. Of potentially loving a job and losing it. Of my dog not having me home with him day after day. Of missing out on my restorative morning walks and my easy-going lunch breaks. Of having to wake up early every single day.
On top of that, everyone in every career has bad days. Days where the last thing you want to do is work. Where you just want to stay in bed and watch all the seasons of Friends again so you can wrap yourself in a comfortable nostalgia and think about the blissful days when life seemed a bit less complicated.
Those with full-time jobs also have people they hate working with. They also have activities they loathe and projects that drain the lifeforce out of them. They might have a regular paycheque, but who knows if their job is actually secure, or what they have to endure to keep it secure?
What experienced freelancers don’t always acknowledge is that sometimes we stick with freelancing simply because it’s the lesser of the evils. I may get tired of hustling, but it’s still preferable to commuting to work, or having someone else control my schedule.
I had a brief period of being head of content for a small agency, but that work was a hybrid position, where I was also able to continue with my freelancing. Upon reflection, I don’t know if any experience as a freelancer was as disheartening or as frustrating as that situation was. In many ways, it cemented my commitment to freelancing.
And so, I’ve found ways to make it work. Sometimes by reacting quickly when pandemics hit and all my clients vanished. Other times by taking courses to enhance my skills or offer new services. Or by finding ways to diversify my income.
It hasn’t always been easy. In fact, it’s rarely super easy. But the alternative remains inconceivable to me.
You probably won’t always have days where you love freelancing. You will likely have days where it feels like a slog. Where you wonder if you can keep going. That doesn’t necessarily mean freelancing isn’t for you—it means you’re normal. Don’t ignore your feelings, however. They can be an important guide.
It may be worthwhile to revisit why you became a freelancer, what you love about it, and whether—over the long-term—it’s still working for you.
Here’s to you ongoing freelance success,
Heidi
If you like this post and feel so inclined, please hit the like (heart) button in the email. That will help me to build this into a thriving community where we can learn from and share with each other.