7 Things I’ve Learned During My Freelance Writing Career

Recently, I dropped out of a LinkedIn writers’ group. I was already disenchanted by some of the conversations, which revolved around how miserable it was to be a freelancer these days. When a rather sketchy job posting was allowed to stay on the forum — and was defended by the moderator — I knew it was time. We all have our limits of what’s acceptable. Her limit was higher than mine.

Time to go.

But during my time on that forum, I saw a lot of misconceptions, and even more naysaying oozing from the comments. ( say oozing because at times, it felt like festering wounds were being displayed, not actual facts.)

I wish some of those writers could have learned some of the lessons I have over the years. Maybe those wounds would have proven to be mere scratches instead of the gangrenous torment they were experiencing.

Maybe some of what I’ve learned through either trial-and-error or research can benefit another writer. Maybe even you.

Here are just a few of the lessons I’ve learned over the years:

Freelance writing takes a lot of work.

That’s because I’m constantly building a business. Even 15 years after going full-time at freelancing, I’m still marketing, still negotiating, still improving, still learning. It’s a business. Every business has to face changes in customers, customer needs, industries, and economies. Adapting is a requirement, not an option. And I’m doing this all while being my own accountant, admin, payroll department, and HR department (you know you have to give yourself those “talks” about wasting company time, right?).

Freelance writing is not impossible.

Once I figured out what works for me, the process of getting clients and getting better earnings wasn’t tough at all. Yes, I still have the work, but I’ve found my rhythm. Getting clients gets easier with each one I’ve worked with. Getting name recognition got easier as I showed up in magazines and at trade shows (and in emails) regularly. Securing payment became easier when I started working with better clients and adopted my invoice system. Doing the job to the client’s satisfaction became easier as I learned to put myself in their shoes, actively listen, and ask smart questions.

Finding quality clients is not hard.

At first, I struggled with the lower-paying clientele (and chasing payments and defending my skills and handling more headaches than a person should). It seemed it was all I could do to get someone to pay me what I was worth. Then it happened — I decided I was raising my rates. I raised them to the point where the lower-paying crowd was no longer interested, but lo and behold! I started getting clients who weren’t balking at the rate (or giving me any of the hassles I’d gotten from former clients). I also identified my ideal client, where that client was hanging out, and started showing up on those social media sites, in email, and at those conferences.

Active marketing rocks.

Job boards held me captive for far too long, and I regret that I actually paid for a membership to one for a brief time. Five minutes browsing job listings was causing a weird side effect — depression. The jobs weren’t ideal, the prices quoted were awfully low, and the ad posters had far too many demands. So I looked across the Internet for how other writers were doing it. Then I took what had resonated, tweaked it, and started actively seeking — and gaining — clients. And my depression cleared up the minute that first check from a new, higher-paying client arrived.

Trusting my gut saved me numerous headaches.

That feeling I’d get when I was presented with a project or a client and something didn’t quite click… that’s what I learned to listen to. I lead with it now. The times I ignored my instincts were some of the most frustrating, ridiculous experiences I’ve had to displeasure of living through. That displeasure became the muscle behind my intuition — if it didn’t feel right, it could well turn out as badly as that I’d tell myself.

Saying No is freeing.

The first time I said no to a client request, I nearly died of anxiety. However, that early death was thwarted when the client replied, “Okay, let’s just reschedule. Are you available next week?” That nonevent gave me the courage to tactfully tell a potential client that I was not taking on his project, and no writer could deliver custody of his children to him via a book project. Then I was able to turn down other projects that didn’t fit, clients who were less than kind on first contact, projects where the timing was just wrong, and projects where the time required wasn’t within my ability to give them. Saying no never made me feel like I’d lost work — it made me feel like I’d gained my self-respect.

Other writers’ self-limitation is not the way things really are.

Freelancing is not dead. It’s not a dying profession. It’s not low-paying unless I don’t put the work into making it higher-paying. It’s not a hobby. Pricing is not based on what the market will bear but what I want it to be and what my clients and I agree to. Freelance writing is my profession, my business, and my passion. No amount of people fighting to convince me otherwise will change my own reality — I’m successful at what I do because I don’t waste time arguing with people over how “dead” the profession is or doing anything other than working to make it better in my own little orbit. I’m bound by my own limitations, not those imposed by others. I’m the one who decides what they’ll be. I’m also the one who can move beyond limitations with hard work and persistence.

Writers, what have you learned in your years of freelancing?