It’s now been three years since I took the plunge, quit my job and became a freelance writer. There have been immeasurable cups of coffee, tears and sleepless nights along the way. However, if you look through photos under the #freelance hashtag on Instagram, you’d think that it’s all shiny new Macbooks, Moleskine diaries, fresh bouquets of pink flowers and fancy looking cups of freshly brewed coffee. While I do, indeed, have a Macbook (and a Moleskine diary, and a penchant for flowers. Erm…) the realities of freelance writing are somewhat less glamorous. Saying that, I wouldn’t change this for anything else in the world. Actually, I would. I’d totally jack it all in if someone gave me $20 million or so.
The truths of being a freelance writer:
We spend most of our time looking for work…
It never ends when you’re a freelance writer. Sure, we can stay in bed for as long as we want, but we quickly launch our butts out from underneath the duvet when we remember that the less we work the less we make.
…and worrying about money
Doesn’t matter how much I have saved in the bank, I’m still always wondering about where my next paycheque will come from.
Making coffee is perfect procrastination fodder
I’ll start this article after I’ve made one more cup…
As is washing the dishes
Under any other circumstances, the last thing I’ll ever think of doing…
Working from coffee shops may look like fun but…
…we spend most of our time staring at hot men and taking photos of our laptops avec fancy looking coffee mugs. Eventually we realise we’ve done no work, give up and go home.
We secretly want to murder some of our clients
Maybe that one is just me.
And we spend most of our time chasing payments
Just bloody give us our money.
We’d love to only work on the projects that we want to work on but…
…sometimes we have to suck it up and take on the less than desirable work. Like emailers. Shudder.
We justify our Twitter habit with lame excuses
I’d totally die of loneliness if I didn’t send at least twenty tweets a day.
Getting paid for something you forgot you wrote is the greatest feeling in the world
I’m rich, I’m rich, I’m bloody rich!
But when people we’ve pitched work to don’t get back to us, it can feel like it’s the end of the world
Why do you all hate me?!
Ultimately, though…we get to work in our frigging pyjamas
Best job ever!
Anything to add?