I apologise upfront for a post what might just come across as incredibly whiny and woe is me. It has taken me a long time to pluck up the courage to even admit it all to myself, let alone write it down for someone else to read because it actually feels risky to tell the world that things don’t always go swimmingly, that we’re not solidly booked out every single day and that we might really struggle. I also realise that the title of this post might sound somewhat hyperbolic, but I’m at a point where I can’t find another way to accurately describe how I feel. The way my freelance life can get me down (even though I absolutely love what I do and wouldn’t change it for the world!), the way it’s making me feel about myself as a person and my worth as a creative, as a photographer…
I went freelance roughly ten years ago. It’s fair to say that up until then, I’d never had anything that could be considered a “proper career”. I’ve always had “jobs to pay bills”, but my heart was never in it and I knew that my true calling was a creative one and that photography was my big passion - along with interiors, but that’s another story. I craved a creative life more than anything else and tried to establish it in my spare time. Not only that, but to make matters worse, I never fitted into office life. Whenever I’ve been employed, things inevitably went somehow wrong in one way or another. If I wasn’t fired, I’d eventually quit because I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I won’t go deeper into just how mentally hard and torturous I’m finding office life, suffice to say I’m really not cut out for it. So, around ten years ago I decided to finally go freelance. I felt I had built up enough of a little business and the time was right. But, inevitably, life changes…
Leaving London, moving to the North Yorkshire countryside, a huge breakup a few years later and consequently finding myself living on my own, all things that have contributed to my life now being completely different to when I first set out. As they say, correlation does not imply causation and I therefore didn’t (and still don’t!) see why any of these things should stop me from fulfilling my ambition, my creative career goals and dreams. If anything, I was going to double down! Not only to prove to myself that I can do this and because I truly love what I’m doing, but also because I actually don’t have much of a choice: I have bills, a mortgage, a car and no one to catch me if things go belly up. So I have to make this work by hook or by crook. And this is where it gets tricky…
Freelance life isn’t always plain sailing and I never expected it to be. I knew there would be ups and downs, peaks and troughs, and I was prepared for it. To an extent, anyway. It’s part of the deal: I get more freedom than I would in an office job, but with that comes a certain amount of uncertainty, fine. What I wasn’t prepared for is that a decade down the line I’d still be struggling. I look around at other photographers and all I can see is the major successes, the exotic assignments and beautiful commissions that are seemingly pouring in non-stop, the published works, the awards, the stunning locations, interesting people, fabulous interiors…in short, I guess it’s about the recognition as a creative, about being acknowledged and chosen. And then the impostor syndrome really kicks in and I’m wondering: where am I going wrong? Am I really that bad? Is my work so terrible? Why do I feel like I’m never the first choice? And down the rabbit hole I go. I’m hustling, sending emails again and again without getting replies. In the past, I have asked other photographers about how they got specific clients etc., but most answers have been on the rather guarded side and on the lines of “you know, you just need to hustle and it will eventually work”. Only, it doesn’t seem to for the most part. And I’m starting to wonder if I’m now just annoying people with my follow-up emails…
Now, I need to add a huge DISCLAIMER here: I do have wonderful clients, I do and have worked with some incredibly lovely people and have had some truly amazing assignments. I highly value and cherish every work relationship I have with my clients and am hugely grateful for the trust placed in myself and the work I get to do with them. So this is in no way meant to be disparaging towards any past or existing clients. However, and that’s the thing with being freelance, no matter how incredible past clients and assignments might have been, there’s no standing still. The next job needs to come up or be found, the next month isn’t guaranteed, there’s no switching off.
This summer has been particularly slow in terms of work and I’ve had people say to me that I should “enjoy the time off”. That might be a great idea if you know for certain that you’ll be going back to a stack of commissions already lined up or a regular job come September, but if that’s not the case, then switching off and enjoying the long, sunny days isn’t really an option (weirdly, sunny days make things worse because I feel the pressure to simultaneously “make the most of the glorious weather" and “stay in and send emails”). No, the quiet time is when the worry is at its peak, when the hustle really needs to kick in and when every non-reply, every pulled gig, every change of plan stings double. And it’s that kind of uncertainty combined with worries, huge amounts of self-doubt, and seeing how well others are doing (“I picked up my first camera a year ago and am now making six figures and am booked solid” - hello green-eyed monster!) that is truly soul destroying. It is in those times that that one thing happens which I’d usually take in my stride (win some lose some, that’s how it goes) that will now tip me mentally over the edge, the one client I thought was going to work out suddenly ghosts me, the one project that was going to get me out of the slump falls through. It’s in those times that there’s only one thing I want to do: sleep. For days on end. Because this tiredness isn’t physical, it’s a heavy, mental tiredness. The kind that sees me sitting in front of my laptop trying to formulate a sentence and suddenly realising that half an hour has passed and I’ve written precisely nothing.
This is part of my reality of freelance life. When I’m working, I’m on top of the world, I love what I do, it gives me purpose, feeds my creativity, makes me feel so fulfilled and gives me mental peace and security. When things go (very) quiet, all that is not only stripped away, but replaced with a whole bunch of negative thoughts and feelings about myself and my worth, so it’s a double-whammy. To try and help myself, I go for daily walks (even small ones, despite some injuries I incurred lately), eat healthily, meditate, occasionally journal (when my attention span allows), and I have a bunch of other somewhat more “woo” things in my toolbox, but the only thing that can truly chase away that tiredness deep in my head is…my work.
