A writer’s freelance work can take many forms. You might edit a manuscript for a fellow writer, pen an article for a periodical, facilitate a workshop, or even work as a private tutor or writing coach. Writers wear many hats, outside of writing as well as at the desk, and necessarily so, since the freelance work we undertake for pay is often the thing that makes a writing life possible. There are many ways to skin the cat of survival (and what a cantankerous scrap of fur that cat can be), and you should get paid what you’re owed for all of them. Here are a few tips on how to do that.
First, don’t let how you work dictate how much you charge for your work. Is it true that you get to make your own schedule, make money without ever leaving your house, and work in the middle of the night while wearing warming booties as reruns of Living Single play on mute on the TV screen in front of you? Yes. But is it also true that prospective clients will guilt you about your rates while grossly underestimating the amount of work their project needs? Also yes. Base your rates on the amount of intellectual and emotional labor it takes to do this work, not on how easy it looks or feels, and certainly not on how much someone thinks they should pay you. You know that the power to turn a mediocre manuscript or workshop idea into something amazing is an acquired skill that you have spent years (and perhaps plenty of your own money) to develop. Charge people for the privilege of that expertise. It’s worth it, and so are you.
Second, it is totally okay to complete jobs for your writer friends, as long as everyone maintains and respects their respective boundaries. But don’t give them a discount so steep that you come to regret the job. Doing so is a form of self-exploitation that could leave you bitter, not to mention ruin the friendship. Also, if you require contracts and/or certain protocols with all of your clients—for example, a good-faith deposit or full payment before relinquishing documents—don’t hesitate to keep the same practices with the homies. Real friendships won’t require you to break your own rules.
Third, and this is a serious question: Are you a cisgendered man? If so, great! You are very likely getting paid what you’re worth, whether you’re setting your own rates or being made an offer on an assignment or project. If you are not a cisgendered man, you should probably ask for more money because the biases, both explicit and implicit, are very real. People who are not men are often paid dimes on the dollar compared with their male counterparts—if they are being offered opportunities at all. And that pay gap gets even wider when the freelancer is nonwhite or disabled, and the list goes on and on. Get in the habit of making counteroffers and being willing to walk away when you’re not being offered enough. When you demand better pay, you are protecting the value of your work and you’re paving the way for others to do the same. And if it happens that you’re setting your own rates, reach out to a straight white man to see what he’s charging. I guarantee you his number is a good place to start.
Fourth, sometimes negotiating isn’t about money but time, which for many writers is its own form of currency. Offer a time line for completion that allows you to get the work done right and reserves the time and energy you need to devote to your own writing projects. Don’t forget that your creative work shouldn’t fall out of the mix. Be realistic about all of the things you’re doing and about what is feasible in a given time frame. In the event that you are asked to complete an assignment on short notice and you’re willing to put some things on hold to do so, you should charge for that, too.
Finally, you are very likely freelancing because you need more money (which is a good reason to ask for more of it, per above), but ideally you’re also doing it because you love grappling with words and ideas—be they your own or someone else’s—and you care deeply about putting good writing into the world. You live in a moment of dangerous, destructive language and of AI-generated articles and books that are carelessly written and calculatingly bad. When you turn your expertise toward a piece of writing, you should care about what is being said and how. This is what makes for a truly good freelancer. There isn’t a single artificially intelligent being that can replace you, because only you can give a damn. Please do.
Destiny O. Birdsong is the author of the poetry collection Negotiations (Tin House, 2020) and the triptych novel Nobody’s Magic (Grand Central, 2022). She is a contributing editor of Poets & Writers Magazine.
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