It happens when I’m busiest. Probably happens at the same time for you.
The client prospects start showing up in email, on the phone, and inquiring about your services.
I’ve been getting quite a few lately (seems to pick up every year as August creeps up). Some are straightforward. Others are loaded with questions.
Some of the questions are smart. Others … let’s just say you can tell when someone isn’t used to hiring freelancers.
That’s perfectly fine. Except when they insist.
Those are the times we freelance writers get confused, too. We want to please our clients. We don’t want to do so at the expense of our boundaries (or our time).
So how do we know? We look for the more common signs.
Hourly versus per project.
This one comes up a lot, doesn’t it? I charge per project because it’s just easier for both clients and me when it comes to billing. But some clients insist on hourly rates. What I do: I offer, again, my per-project rate and give them another measurement — maybe a per-word rate. Most clients are just trying to see how expensive/affordable you are.
Tests.
Another sign, to me, that someone hasn’t hired a freelancer before. If they can’t tell from your existing body of published work, I don’t see what a test will prove. What I do: I let them know I charge for them. Happy to do a test, but I do need to be compensated, particularly if they intend to use the test.
Shifting project needs.
It’s okay when your client is still working out the details for her to maybe shift focus before work gets started or contracts are drawn up. It’s not okay when, after the contract has been signed, for her to slip in “Just keep it around 700 words” when you’ve contracted for 500 words. What I do: I simply refer them to the contract, and cheerfully tell them I’m happy to draw up a new contract for the new word count and fee. What I don’t do: say nothing and just do the job. That, my friend, ends with you writing their business book for the same price as that blog post.
Specific background requirements.
This one always makes me scratch my head. The client is asking you about your background, then she says “And have you written anything in the dog leash clip safety area?” You, a freelancer who specializes in pet products manufacturing and distribution, says “Not directly, but these four articles show that I’ve handled topics quite similar.” Then the client passes, saying they need exactly that experience. What I do: I reiterate how my experience transfers, and I offer to do a one-time small project so they can see how I handle it. If they pass on that, I skip it. Don’t beg anyone for work. There are other clients who can see beyond the ultra-specific.
Specific work requirements.
Some clients expect you to work with some sort of monitoring device so they can see what you’re doing at all times. Some will require you to buy liability insurance. Some will have you sign contracts that transfers (contractually) the blame over to you should their team mess up. (One I was presented with had that blame reaching one year after my involvement ended.) Some will expect you to run everything through Copyscape. What I do: turn them down. Seriously, we are freelancers, not employees. We’re also not in control of their teams’ actions (nor should we be), and we’re not in need of insurance to cover their mistakes. There is no reason why you, freelance writer, need to be treated in any other way than as a professional. A trusted, valued professional. Don’t agree to terms that don’t sit well.
Unclear direction.
We’ve all had that one client prospect who cannot for the life of him tell you what he wants (or in one really bizarre case, what he did). He communicates better with semaphores than with words, maybe. He spends nearly an hour trying to tell you what his business does, but resorts to “Here’s an article someone else wrote that may explain it.” What I do: walk away. If the communication is that bad at the beginning, it’s not going to improve. Don’t try to save people who have no idea they’re drowning. The resistance you get will double your work, and you’ll still end up with a big headache.
Writers, what are some of the more peculiar requests you’ve had over the years?
How did you handle them?
How do you turn down an offer tactfully?
8 responses to “Confusing Client Requests (& How Writers Can Handle Them)”
A couple years ago a potential client sent me a contract including wording that would have made me liable for changes their editors made to my copy. Instead of signing the contract, I highlighted the passage and added a note explaining that it would be impossible to accept liability for things that happen AFTER I’ve completed my work.
The editor who’d sent it admitted she hadn’t even read the standard contract supplied “by Legal.” She agreed it was ridiculous and had “Legal” draw up a new contract for me. It didn’t have that clause and I signed.
I also had potential client send a one-size-fits-all contract that was really geared more to maintenance and repair contractors than content providers. I crossed out all points that didn’t apply to writing and editorial issues and sent it back unsigned. This place also sent me a more appropriate contract.
My guess? Some legal departments simple find it easier to create one or two all-encompassing contracts filled with legalese that are too difficult for most people to decipher (but not writers!) than to write separate contracts for different types of projects.
The company that sent it to me was a big one — and knew better. They didn’t move forward because I asked for the liability section to be revised. You’re lucky if your client saw the problem and corrected it. These guys didn’t think there was a problem. They didn’t want the liability. I figured it’s best they keep the work internal if that’s the case. 😉
In a few cases, I have had clients who send standard contracts that don’t fit, and they’re quite happy to change things. The one time I did get burned on a contract was with ‘Teen Magazine decades ago (literally). They had a contract that stated one word — “minimum” — that ended up costing me $1500. They paid me for that “minimum” 500 words and printed the whole thing. And they never answered my letter pointing out that they’d used the entire thing without compensating me. Why? Because how it was worded (and it’s been years, so I’m fuzzy on what it had said) left them off the hook and left me high and dry.
These days, with the internet, they’d never get away with that. If they’re even in business anymore.
I think the fact that I used actual logic on the potential client helped: Why would I ever accept liability for actions taken by others well after my copy has been handed in? I have no power to ensure their “corrections” are correct, and this is clearly a case of your legal team trying to shift staffers’ liability onto others.
I also made it clear I wouldn’t sign anything that made me liable for the decisions of others—especially people I’ve never met.
I think how you phrased it is perfect, Paula. A question often allows them to see where the problems lie.
I’ve noticed, with some of the small book publishers, that when my agent and/or lawyer and I go through for negotiations, they say “we don’t negotiate” and expect me to sign a boilerplate. As far as I’m concerned, the initial contract is where we START negotiations. I don’t sign boilerplates.
Yeah, no boilerplate. That smacks of employer-employee relationship, not an exchange of professional services.
Where I live now, there are a lot of prospective clients who don’t believe you’re doing the work unless you’re in the room where they can see you. I don’t like to work that way. I don’t mind spending some time on-site, in their office, on particular projects. But I’m more productive on my own time, and I don’t charge unless I’m working. So having me in a loud, open space that curtails my productivity ends up costing everyone. So now I say no.
See, I’ve never understood that type of thinking, Devon. It’s a mistrust, or maybe the need to control that I believe makes some prospective clients demand the onsite work. It makes no sense, either. I can get more done in four hours than I ever did in an office for eight hours.