“So…people pay you to write?”
“Yes.”
“But you aren’t employed by anyone?”
“No.”
“And people actually give you money to write things?”
“Yes.”
“But….can you survive on the money you make?”
“Yes.”
“I see….”
This was a conversation I had in a bar several months ago. The woman interrogating me could not get her head around the fact that people want to hand over their money for the words I write.
I have had similar conversations when trying to open bank accounts. One particular Albanian bank eyed me with deep suspicion, asked me to send them examples of my published work, and then declared that I would have to provide an invoice for every, single, cent going into my account.
The concept that I- an educated young woman with an impressive employment history, would have jacked it all in to go it alone seems quite inconceivable to some. Others cannot seem to grasp the concept of freelancing and that you don’t need an employer to be successful.
Almost four years ago, I was working for a big law firm. Specialising in iGaming, blockchain, fintech, tax, and IP, I was in charge of all things relating to marketing. Content writing, social media, legal analysis, ghostwriting for the partners, and creating all marketing materials. I had an excellent wage, health insurance, and a lot of perks.
I knew how lucky I was but I was far from happy.
Being in an office depressed me, I didn’t like most of the people I worked with, the incompetence and office politics bothered me, and the rigid routine of the 9-5 did not suit me at all.
I have suffered from depression for many years and was diagnosed and medicated at the age of 20. Managing a lifelong condition that peaks and troughs and fluctuates on a whim, whilst trying to remain constant in a high-pressured working environment was hell.
When I was on form I had the energy of 10 people- ideas flowed, energy simmered away, and I would work for 18 hours a day until my hands went numb from typing. But when I was down, it was quite a different story.
Digestive issues and migraines were the first warning sign of a crash and then I would spend days, even weeks struggling to get out of bed, crying in the toilets, screaming constantly inside my head whilst feeling like the pain would never end. It was like a dark cloud that descended upon me- everything went black and slowed down and there was absolutely no way to pull myself out of it.
Of course, this affected my work. I would fall behind and then spend weeks catching up to the point that I exhausted myself and crashed again. A vicious cycle with no end in sight, the thought of spending the next 35 years of my life in this way made me despair.
One day I turned to my mentor for help. A previous manager and an occupational therapist who not only understood me, but believed in me, he uttered one sentence that changed my life; “find something you love doing and figure out how to make money from doing it.”
So, I did.
I quit my job on the spot, forfeited my 30 days notice, packed up my belongings from my desk, and proclaimed I was leaving to become a freelance writer.
Everyone thought I was crazy. My mother went pale and panicked, my friends thought I was having another mental breakdown, and my boyfriend at the time told me to get a job in a bar “incase I didn’t make it”. But I was determined and I knew that I could do this.
Having handed my work laptop back to the law firm, I was left with just an iPad with a cracked screen on which to work. I had no savings, no money in the bank, and nothing to pay the next months rent with.
I sat down at my kitchen table, feeling a mixture of liberation and panic, and I started sending out emails and Facebook messages to every media and marketing agency, law firm, and corporate services company in the country. I figured that if I sent out enough messages asking for work, at least some would materialise.
Many ignored me, some replied saying no thank you, but others replied and asked me for a meeting. That month I worked non-stop. I hustled and wrote, drank countless mugs of coffee, and survived on pasta and rice which was all I had in my cupboard.
At the end of that first month, I paid my rent, settled my bills, paid back the money I had borrowed, and had enough left over to buy a laptop and a celebratory bottle of prosecco.
The following month, I made double what I had in my salaried role, and from that moment on, I never looked back.
Over the subsequent years, there have been many ups and downs. I have worked hard, given up my social life, cried, argued, and stressed. I have laid awake at night hoping that the work doesn’t dry up, and I have pulled all nighters finishing projects for demanding clients. I have ditched clients, some have ditched me, yet I remain sure that I made the right decision.
Eventually i got to a place where I did not need to hustle anymore. Through my columns in national papers and my journalism work, clients flocked to me, and continue to do so to this day.
People often ask me “How do you motivate yourself?”
My answer is simple- if I don’t work, I don’t eat. If I don’t do my best and I fail, I only have myself to blame. I am the master of my own destiny, and if I screw it up, then I have myself to answer to which is worse than any sociopathic boss.
Yes it is hard. I don’t really get days off. Sick days are a thing of the past, and even holiday’s mean I start work at 7am and finish at midday.
During my pregnancy, my health has suffered a lot and I lost a number of clients, or had to relinquish them because I was unable to meet my obligations. But it is ok- I have saved enough money to keep me going for a while, and I have a loyal enough client base to know that once I am ready to work again, I will have no problem in doing so.
Becoming a freelancer was the best thing I have ever done. It allows me to live a fulfilling and interesting life on my own terms. I can go where I want, when I want and as long as I figure out how to fit my work around it, everything is ok. But most importantly, I have the flexibility I require.
When I am depressed I can work from underneath my duvet and not speak to another human being except my partner for as long as it takes for me to recover. When I am happy, I can write 10,000 words a day, fit in several meetings, and still have time for socialising and writing a chapter of my book in the evening.
But the best thing about it is knowing that I have done it all by myself. Each time I get paid or top up my savings account, I know that I hustled, negotiated, and worked hard for every single penny- I didn’t just get it at the end of each month, purely for turning up.
People ask me what my secret is, or what advice I could give them and despite sounding like a huge cliche, I tell them the same thing my mentor told me- “find something you love doing and then figure out how to make money from doing it”.
For me, there is nothing worse than someone who complains about their life, yet does nothing to change it. After all, the only person who is in control of your happiness is you.
Think of me, with my cracked iPad and EUR 100 to my name, typing away furiously determined not to let myself down, or prove those that doubted me right. If I can puruse and master my dream, then there is absolutely no reason why you can’t as well.
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