THREE Things I Like About Freelancing
The Number One Tip for more blog traffic, according to 1,293 (or more) blogsperts: Include More Numbers in your blog titles.
Number Two: Make a lot of lists. People like lists.
Actually this isn’t news. It’s a tried-and-true technique for magazine articles as well. Check out any Cosmo cover. Or Men’s Health for that matter — the magazine which has infamously been recycling exactly the same cover teasers for years on end.
And it’s an easy, easy way to crank out an article. I actually feel a bit guilty doing it. Feels like cheating.
But hey, if it keeps editors happy and generates a cheque …
The whole list thing has only become more prevalent since all of us have had to learn to write for the web. “Humans have the attention span of a horny wombat,” we’ve been told. “They can’t read whole sentences anymore. Give ’em the sound bite. Give ’em point form.”
People like point form.
I don’t really buy the idea that people are incapable of reading more than 350 words in a row anymore. If people can slog through 2500 of my words on how to buy a compact tractor (and they assure me they have, all the way to the very end) in a magazine, then I have at least 85% confidence (see, Google? Numbers! You have chills, don’t you.) that they can do so on the Interwebz too.
But it really doesn’t matter whether I can convince you, gentle reader. Got to cater to the folks handing out the meagre cheques …
So both in the spirit of practising the art of the Numerical List, giving Google naughty little tremors of pleasure … and writing something a smidge less bitter and negative, here are my Top Three Things I Like About Freelancing (with apologies to Pitching the World, one of my fave bloggers, whose concept I have blatantly stolen here under the guise of imitation being the sincerest form, yadda yadda yadda).
Number One: I Don’t Do Office Well.
Oh, believe me, I’ve tried. Either I’m allergic to fluorescent lights, or just claustrophobic when I’m trapped in a fabric cube, but either way, nine-to-five jobs make me feel like I’ve got fire ants crawling all over my extremities and nibbling on my bits.
There are a couple of reasons for this, I think. First, I have screwed-up circadian rhythms (or maybe mine are the ones which are normal, and everyone else is just play-acting because they want to conform and keep their jobs and their benefits more than I do). NOT a morning person, and often at my most productive in the wee hours of the night when all those conformist drones are tucked away in their warm, soft, cozy, ever-so-inviting (mmmm) beds. I found out long ago that I do not thrive on nine-to-five.
Second, I have absolute contempt for office weasels, a species which seems to breed indiscriminately and proliferates in cube farm habitats. I can’t STAND that fishbowl feeling of always having a disapproving pair of eyes on the back of my neck (or on my computer screen), trying to work out what sort of subversive activities I’m up to instead of What I’m Supposed To Be Working On.
I briefly took on a gig this past summer, doing social media for a veterinary clinic with ambitions of World Domination (hey, that’s always a benign and noble goal, right?), and whence I encountered an office weasel with a whole lotta passive-aggressive going on. To say she enjoyed making me squirm is to understate considerably. Clearly feeling her territory as the reigning (ahem) SM goddess was being threatened, she did her best to make my life a living hell from the moment I arrived, and it didn’t take me long to decide I wasn’t being paid nearly well enough for that crap. I left after two months, to our evident mutual satisfaction. Ugh.
Number Two: I Can Go To the Dentist Without Begging for Permission
As a freelancer, I don’t need to justify my time usage to anyone but myself. I get paid by the project, not by the hour, so whether I take 10 minutes to bloody well move cards around in a game of solitaire, while my gray matter tries to generate the particular word or phrase I’m looking for, is nobody’s business. And I can schedule the rest of the minutiae of my life without having to count my remaining sick days, invent another funeral for my grandmother (both long dead), or grovel so I can get to the damn feed store before it closes.
Now, there’s a downside to this, which is that when you work from home, everyone thinks you’re completely free to help them move, dog-sit (I have at least made it clear that I do not human-sit), or wait for their cable guy, because really you’re just sitting around with your proverbial thumbs up your ass all day, aren’t you?
The truth is that I probably work at least twice as many hours per week as most of you lucky bastards with Real Jobs. Probably three times as many. Seriously, I put in some crazy-ass hours. I work until I’ve got a product I can send out the door. I have deadlines, so it’s not like that undergrad job I had at the university library, re-filing the card catalogue (yes, a card catalogue with actual cards — we’re talking Bayeux Tapestry era, folks) and re-shelving books, where basically anything that needed to be done today, could just as easily be done tomorrow with nary a complaint from the universe or the student body. The whole self-motivated meet-the-deadline-or-you’re-fucked thing is not something that everyone can do. Some people apparently need those office weasels breathing down their necks. But I’m so much happier self-motivating, I can’t even tell you.
Number Three: It’s Compatible with My Horsey Lifestyle, Mostly
I have horses, and they live in my backyard. This requires that I live on a farm, which makes commuting to a Real Job something of a challenge (though by no means impossible if the right opportunity were to come along, hint hint). They require rather more care than, say, a guinea pig or a tank of tropical fish. (Not just blowing smoke, here — I worked in a pet shop when I was a high-school brat, and cared for everything from crickets to sulphur-crested cockatoos, which are evil, nasty creatures, and saltwater lionfish with uber-poisonous pointy spines.) As a freelancer, I can be here to change the bandages on a gimpy beast on stall rest, and I can rescue the lot of them from rotten weather that they’re standing out in, even though they’ve got a perfectly good run-in shed that they’re too stupid to use. I can be here to hold them for the farrier or the vet I can’t afford, too.
What I do precious little of, of course, is ride. What with working 190 hours a week, I’m lucky to carve out enough time to muck the stalls, never mind perks like riding. But c’est la guerre … the inclination to loathe office weasels also makes me pretty intolerant of boarding stables, where sniping and snarking often are elevated to art forms and the care is rarely up to my exacting standards. I’ve actually had some unbelievable stuff go down at boarding stables, which will no doubt become the subject of a future rant. With my horses at home, little control-freak me is in charge of every aspect of their day-to-day management, and everyone is a whole lot happier, especially me.
There, that’s three. That’s all I can come up with. The Things I Rather Dislike About Freelancing List is likely to be a little bit longer. Fair warning.