The gig economy is an adventure—and not always a good one.

Work: Freelancing

I love being a freelance writer, I really do. But I think it might surprise people to know some of the behind-the-scenes stuff about writing. I know I certainly have had my eyes opened on more than one occasion.

Some Freelance Clients Take Longer to Pay Than Others

For instance, the number of people who think it’s acceptable to pay freelancers late is quite shocking. Some people are likely just disorganized and don’t mean anything by it. I worked with someone who runs a small marketing agency, and he habitually paid late. It was kind of built into my routine with him: I’d send the invoice. I’d do the work. Two days would go by. I’d check-in, and he’d ask me to resend the invoice. It was really not a huge deal, but it did irk me a bit. Why couldn’t he just pay me when he got my invoice?

Other publications, I’m not so sure about. It could be that they’re disorganized. Or just spiteful people, but that’s a thought I usually only have on my difficult days. Ironically, one financial-focused publication once owed me for four articles, and I had to keep hounding them for payment. They seriously didn’t even respond to my emails for a while there, and I had to get my editor involved. Luckily, they were just temporarily swamped and got back on track with payments.

Then, there are the writing rules. They vary with every publication, business, nonprofit and marketing agency that I’ve ever worked with. Some places have zero written rules about the style of their writing—you just sort of figure it out from existing materials, which can be a little tricky. You basically make it up as you go if the client hasn’t created any other content.

Other places are completely opposite of that. One publication I write for has 11 (and counting!) different Google Docs chock-full of pages and pages of information about their style, the words they do and don’t use, source guides and more. And, to make matters worse, they created all kinds of videos about how to use their particular content management system where we upload the articles. If there’s one thing I personally hate, it’s watching a video to get the information I need.

And honestly, it’s not worth my time to read through every single page and watch every single video. Often, they’re quite pointless. And this same publication sends out weekly emails with “tips and reminders” because they have us so bogged down with these documents and videos that freelancers overlook or forget certain details. To top it all off, the pay kind of sucks for all the work that goes into writing their articles. 

At least they don’t typically ghost me, though. And usually, the same people ghosting me are the ones who are notorious for scope creep and for late payments. Take the marketing agency guy who always paid me late, for instance. We agreed on a certain number of revisions for the writing projects I did for him, but he kept sending me tidbits and pages to rewrite. And rewrite again. And again. I lost count, actually.

And because I have poor boundaries (something I’m working on), I just did the rewrites. Sometimes, it feels easier to me to just rewrite the same stupid paragraph eight times because the client can’t articulate what he wants rather than just tell him no.

So two months after he imposed a ridiculous deadline (which I met, I might add), he asked for yet another rewrite of something for that same project, which was supposed to be finished. I thought about it carefully and even asked my business coach for some backup to make sure I was in the right. I firmly but politely said his ask was out of the project scope, but I’d be happy to do the extra edits for an additional fee. He quickly responded and said he wasn’t asking for a rewrite (he was) but that it was fine, and he didn’t need it anyway (he did).

And after I put a stop to his scope creep, he ghosted me. I even checked in with him via email because we were supposed to work on other projects. Haven’t heard a peep from him since.

Another surprising fact about freelance writing? Some of the publications I write for don’t really bother checking my work for accuracy, while others are sticklers. The publication with the crazy number of style guides and videos definitely reviews what its freelancers write and makes sure the sources are accurate and appropriate.

I suspect that a pet-focused publication I used to write for, on the other hand, just publishes whatever its writers turn in. I’d rather have an editor double-checking my work, just because I’m not perfect and I do make errors.

And I’ve written articles about products for some places without even trying the products—because the publication has affiliate links that it makes commission on. I do my due diligence, of course, in checking out reviews and whatnot. But after knowing this, it gives me great pause to just pull up an article on Google and trust it these days. Not that people are trying to deceive necessarily, just that sometimes a proofread can go a long way. Having an editor just go through and verify the product facts or reviews, for instance, adds a level of authority, in my opinion.

And then there are the publications that are just downright awful in every way. That pet-focused publication, for instance, was one of the worst to work with. At first, it was great. I sent a cold email to them asking if they needed any writers. The owner responded that they didn’t, but we ended up emailing back and forth a bit. 

After the owner found out I really am a crazy cat lady (courtesy of the literally thousands of cat photos on my phone!), she brought me on board as a writer. The pay was kind of terrible, but I was newer to freelance writing and enjoyed working with her. She rarely requested edits, was polite, respected me and my time and was basically just super easy to work with.

Then, she sold the company. The new owner was the perfect example of a client you never want to work with as a freelance writer. He threw so many red flags in a short amount of time and then, of course, continued to be a jerk the entire time I dealt with him.

For one thing, he thought he was doing me a favor by paying me shitty rates for those articles. To make matters worse, he insisted on doing a Zoom call when he knew I was out of the office. I specifically told the old and new owners that I was taking time off but would be happy to jump on a call the following week. Nope, not good enough for this guy.

I stupidly gave in, and we had a pointless (of course) call via Zoom. I stated, in no uncertain terms, again, that I was taking time off and wouldn’t be available until the following week. It felt a little over the top, but I wanted to be absolutely sure he understood that I wasn’t going to be available.

Turns out, he didn’t understand. Or, probably more accurately, he purposely ignored me.

He contacted me on vacation (the one he knew I was on) to bully me into signing a contract at the last minute. He texted me that I absolutely had to sign this stupid contract before I got back from my getaway. I tactfully declined, saying I couldn’t give it the proper attention something that important deserved.

He pushed. He told me I was the only writer who hadn’t yet signed and I’d hold up their ownership transfer if I didn’t sign that very day. I had several choice words for him, but I held back. I took time out of my planned vacation just to make his lack of planning my priority. (So maddening!)

He was another late payer who I’m pretty sure did it on purpose, just because he was an asshole on a power trip. And about two months in, he emailed me to let me know that I wasn’t being a team player and that I would be done writing for them. You better believe I gave him my thoughts before walking away—in a very professional manner, of course, unlike him.

What I’ve learned behind the scenes as a freelance writer is interesting, shocking and sometimes downright unbelievable. But I love the freedom and flexibility that comes with writing. And all those crappy clients are definitely helping me stand up for myself.

Despite dealing with ghosting, scope creep and disorganized clients, freelancing has helped me grow and stick up for myself.

A Behind-the-Scenes Look at the World of Freelance Writing

The United Kingdom has given the world some incredible things over the years: the chocolate bar, the World Wide Web and 

 football (later to become soccer, even though it is actually football.)

Another great creation to come from the land of baked beans and Piers Morgan is the British Broadcasting Corporation.

The BBC has brought us such institutions as 

, and its news coverage is respected worldwide. It has been around in one form or another since 1922, which is longer than any member of the royal family has been alive.

But, as with the royal family, parts of it are flawed. (Admittedly not as much as Andrew.)

By the End of March 2020, My Daughter Was Born and I Was Out of My Freelance Job

After a career in commercial radio, I joined the BBC as a radio reporter. I was given a BBC pass with my picture on the front and the BBC’s values on the back. I felt rather proud. After all, this was the BBC.

The BBC, like an old auntie at a family party, is lovely, but every so often, something will be said or done that reminds you they’re from another time.

On one such occasion, I was assigned to go and meet a Nigerian pastor and his wife who had opened their church to feed struggling families.

“It’s probably best not to ask them what it feels like to be poor.”

That was the advice of the station manager as I was heading out the door. Very keen to impress the BBC’s policy on representing the diverse culture of its cities but not quite getting it right.

And that is how I would sum up working inside the BBC.

In March 2020, hundreds of other happy BBC workers and I were about to lose the joy and pride that comes with being part of the people-focused Auntie Beeb.

On March 12, the British Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced, “We’ve done what can be done to contain this disease…but it is now a global pandemic. I’ve got to be clear…this is the worst public health crisis for a generation.”

At the time, I was on-air, presenting a radio show, and we had to cut away to hear the PM give an announcement.

One minute you’re playing Michael Bolton; the next you’re reaffirming a pandemic.

My daughter was two days old when the announcement was made. Eleven days later, on March 23, the U.K. went into lockdown. A few days after that, I was no longer employed by the BBC. (It was quite the fortnight!)

I had a 3-year-old son and a month-old baby daughter. I was scared.

There Was Confusion Over Whether Freelancers Would Get Paid

The U.K. government announced a furlough scheme. If you were on a payroll but couldn’t work for your employer, you could claim 80 percent of your earnings. It also announced help for the self-employed: 80 percent of your average profits up to a maximum of £7,500 for three months.

As a Pay-As-You-Earn freelancer, I, and many others, as I would find out, neither qualified for furlough nor for self-employed help. More than 3 million U.K. taxpayers fell into this category.

In April 2020, the BBC PAYE Freelancers Group was set up on Facebook to help us make sense of it all. That same month, the organizers of the group sent a letter to the then-Director General of the BBC, Lord Hall, signed by 157 PAYE freelancers (myself included). 

The following month, the DG replied, saying, “We do want to reassure you that we’re doing all we can to support the freelance community, and we have put several measures in place.”

There was a glimmer of hope being shone upon us by the DG himself. As a wave of relief washed over my anxious mind, I realized I would be able to feed my children 

And then, in June 2020, the BBC argued that as a public sector organization, it was 

Once again, my hope was now as empty as our food cupboard.

The amount of people having to claim universal credit—government benefits—in the U.K. doubled from 3 million to nearly 6 million at the start of the pandemic and only increased. I became part of those statistics. I tried to get any work elsewhere—from delivery driving to helping in a nearby farm supplies warehouse—but there was a pandemic going on, and nobody was hiring.

In July 2020—four months after the lockdown was announced—the corporation finally took steps to help the loyal PAYE freelancers it had relied upon. The Broadcasting, Entertainment, Communications and Theatre Union reported, “The BBC has now agreed that freelancers who either had no bookings or reduced bookings due to COVID-19 but who had worked with the BBC every month over the period [between] September 2019–February 2020…will receive their average earnings for the months of March, April and May 2020 (calculated over the 12 months prior to COVID) and capped at £2,500.”

I had worked from August 2017 to April 2020. I read and reread. I qualified!

I wrote an email to the Human Resources department. I didn’t hear anything. I called them. I couldn’t get through. I emailed again.

As I am writing this in January 2022, I still haven’t had a reply. I asked the Facebook group to see if they fared any better.

A now-former freelancer said they didn’t even receive an email to inform them their future bookings were being canceled. Another said they didn’t receive anything and the insistence of the BBC that they become PAYE pushed them over the qualifying threshold for the Self-Employment Income Support Scheme. One responder offered a morsel of positivity, declaring that they received a small payment; then told of how their freelance contract was canceled without any warning.

The plight of the forgotten freelancers was spreading. During the summer of 2020, someone who worked at BBC World News said in a resignation letter, “Management has undermined mine and PAYE freelancer’s dignity. We feel our concerns over furlough, our livelihoods, our health and financial security have not mattered.”

I felt that. I’d been claiming benefits, missing payments on the house, having my phone cut off and taking jobs that paid less than the minimum wage just to be able to buy food.

But despite that, in February 2021, I went back to work for the BBC.

I Still Love the BBC but Now as a Consumer, and My View of It Has Changed

In the time since that last shift, I felt ghosted. As the months had rolled on, I began to doubt my own ability, whether I was thought capable by colleagues or even liked. Such were the tricks my mind played over that time. So when I was asked back, it was validation.

I returned with steady, if not flowing work as the country got back to normal. Then, in August 2021, still a BBC PAYE freelancer, I was asked if I would like to book more work: four shifts in the next four months.

It felt all too familiar. The uncertainty, the lack of loyalty that fellow Facebook group users had experienced. It wasn’t a good way to live for my mental health. (I’d been put back on antidepressants during the pandemic too.)

Life is good now. My family and friends are healthy, and my debts are pretty much paid off, thanks to becoming a self-employed writer and podcast producer. I am one of the very lucky ones.

I still love the BBC. The people who make it work day-to-day are passionate and brilliant. I loved working with them.

But now I sit with my dignity and admire from the outside.

I particularly enjoy watching Match of the Day on Saturday nights, which shows all that day’s football. Actual football, that is.

From sudden termination to mixed messaging about receiving payment, the BBC’s treatment of its workers in 2020 left us scrambling to make ends meet. 

The BBC Forgot About Its Freelancers During the Pandemic

The freelance world doesn’t care much for morals. In the five years I’ve worked, there’s only ever been one rule: The Site gets its cut. It’s a lot like having a pimp. You find the Johns, you do the work and when there isn’t any? Well, it’s your ass freezing on the street corner. With a little skill and a lot of patience, you’ll land a job. Then, the real work begins. You do your best to please the client, to be fun and exciting. You try not to take it personally when they stiff you on the payment. You tell yourself, it’s OK. They had fun; that means they’ll come back. Then, as you lay there, exhausted, questioning your life choices, that’s when the Site comes in and collects their 20 percent. Those are the good days. On the bad days, you just lay there, poor, hungry, wishing it would happen.

I did try to justify the Site. After all, they provided the opportunity, or at least gave you a place to talk. Then, the Site started charging for the right to apply for jobs. Now I’m thinking, what about the hungry artist, the guy with a big dream but no money? It makes me sad, but then, I think, how long before the snake realizes that it’s eating its own tail?

That being said, freelancing was a good way to begin. I had no idea what kind of writer I was. I wanted to do everything but lacked the connections and experience to go straight into publishing. I decided to give it a chance. After all, what did I have to lose?

I’ve Had to Stand Up for Myself So I Could Get Paid

One week in, I got my first job. They offered me $200 to write for a video game. They started me on concepts for faster-than-light travel. So, I raced off to the local coffee shop, pad and paper in hand, and I scribbled away. I was so happy—one week in and I’d already made it.

Two weeks went by, and I sent all the best ideas to my boss. They liked the work but wanted to make a few changes, the first being we were no longer making a video game. No, now it was all about cards. I remember thinking, cards aren’t as cool as video games. Still, I would fantasize about conventions where people would sit around, playing my cards, and I got excited.

I worked on the project for about a month, which was the agreed time for payment. I was new to all this. I didn’t negotiate word count or hours. I spent all day, every day, writing this project. I felt like a real artist. Then, I reached out and asked for payment. The client responded with confusion. Why would they pay me? Well, I pointed to the deal, to the deadline and the agreed amount. Then, the client said, oh, yeah. Well, don’t worry about it. Just keep going.

They loved the work; they just didn’t want to pay for it. It felt like having a friend turn on you. I was heartbroken, but in that moment, I responded in a way I’d never done before. I told them, no, I’m not going to worry because if you don’t pay me right now, then I’m going straight to the Site and together, we’re going to figure out how to sue you.

They paid me what was owed, and I came away feeling like I’d learned how to stand up for myself. I offered to continue working for the client. They said something about delays and promised they’d get back to me. That was five years ago.

Now, it’s not my intention to say that every client is going to rip you off. The truth is, everyone’s looking for a good deal. It's those people who'll share the goodness—those are the ones worth working with.

I’ve Had Some Truly Enlightening Experiences With Clients

I worked with this one guy—we'll call him Pea. He'd spent his life evading the FBI as he ran guns across America. He'd recently made contact with his estranged son and wanted to prove that he was, if not a good man, at least not all bad. Pea had married into prominent Nazi family on the East Coast, and my job was to write the memoir. Above all, he wanted to show how much we have in common once we move past the politics.

The man's life was a long history of violence and racism. In many ways, he was the quintessential Nazi our mothers warned us about. But then again, Pea treated me with more humanity than any other client I've had in the last five years.

He knows my lefty views and the fact that I'm in an interracial relationship. He told me it didn't matter. He didn't care what I believed in, only that I stood by them, no matter how painful it got.

Pea always pays. He even got into an argument with me when I refused to accept payment for our calls. The way he saw it, work was work. He taught me to not sell myself short and to stand up for my rights. Somewhere along the way, we became friends. We'd go off topic, laughing till both of us were in tears.

If it wasn't for freelancing, I'd have never met someone like Pea. I wouldn't have had so many opportunities to grow. Our last call ended with him telling me about his Brazilian girlfriend. I asked, how does that work, being a Nazi? He told me that it doesn't. That's why it's a secret. He told me how much he loved his family, that he would die for them. Then, he explained what they'd do if they ever found out about his secret.

I'd like to sit here and warn people that there's nothing good about the freelance world. Truth is, I love it. I get to interview all kinds of people. I see a side of humanity that's often hidden out of fear of judgment. I listen to their worries and share in their dreams.

I don’t know what the future of freelancing will be.

I don’t think the Site can survive if it continues on this path. This means that people like me will have to find new ways to start, but for anyone looking to go down the less conventional paths, I'll say this: You’re not always going to be happy. There were times I wanted to give up. I had bad clients with worse money. It's not for the faint of heart, and you'll make no progress with tears alone. It's a hard life, but I'll say this: If it really was that easy, would you still want it? If everyone could do it, what would make you stay?

Working as a freelancer has taught me about negotiating, setting boundaries and advocating for myself.