The second year as a freelance independent

Time to read: 2 minutes

Major validations, minor tribulations and lessons learned—two years into Sam Howard’s career as a freelance independent PR.

No more awards for you, my girl. Think on.

Smug moment: Ongoing clients have expanded their remits, project clients return for more projects, and growth rates are healthy.

Dark muttering: So why haven’t I won Employee of the Month or been given a round of applause, a certificate, a mug, or anything?

Note to self: Stop hankering for external validation. Ain’t ever gonna happen.

Smug moment: Stress levels are down, inner contentment levels are up, and my aura has never been so glowy. Everyone says so.

Dark muttering: It can be astoundingly bad when you have a bad day. The temptation to cry is immense. After all, no one is watching. Usually, it’s just a matter of keeping the faith, but it’s easier said than done.

Note to self: Just read the contract, you stupid, stupid girl.

Smug moment: I’m getting to do more stuff with more people and getting back to a more integrated approach.
Dark muttering: Peer collaboration is all very well, but where’s a lovely, enthusiastic junior when you need one? Media monitoring…at my age.

Note to self: Get over yourself. It’s the same day rate.

Smug moment: Blog’s doing good.
Dark muttering: I’m a bit behind on sorting out my own brand. What brand, you say? Quite. I abandon it as soon as client work comes in. Worse still, I keep changing my mind. I am more empathetic now with past employers who could never ‘get their act together’. It turns out neither can I.

Note to self: Use your project management skills, dummy.

Smug moment: I’ve enjoyed getting back to my roots, direction, content and outreach. I still get a huge high when I see client content getting picked up.
Dark muttering: Why did I think setting up alone would get me away from the spreadsheets?

Note to self: There’s software out there to do this stuff. Decide where your time is best spent, and spend it there.

Smug moment: So, as a reward for going freelance independent, I got a rescue puppy. He’s a black lab, crossed with something, maybe a kangaroo. But our daily walks give me head space, and I’ve dropped a dress size!
Dark muttering: I somewhat underestimated how wildly distracting the dogaroo’s ebullient puppyhood and protracted adolescence would be. There were days, I’m telling ya…

Note to self: Don’t be tempted to spread yourself too thin, even by a puppy.

Smug moment: I’ve rejected any pretence at standard working hours, standard dress, and standard working practices – and it all works well for me.
Dark muttering: Ask any of my former bosses. I was always borderline employable. Are there rescue shelters for feral freelancers, offering warm and loving forever contracts, doing the filing in the basement for some kindly brand?

Note to self:  Better stick with the programme, kid.

As Fat Boy Slim might say:

‘We’ve come a long, long way together

Through the hard times and the good

We have to celebrate you, baby

We have to praise you like we should.’

‘Cos no one else is gonna do it for you.