Why I’m Giving up Full-Time Freelancing to Work in a Bookstore

Don’t buy into the idea that freelancing is the most rewarding venture on the planet; it can be, but that doesn’t mean it’s for everyone.

I’ve been freelancing full-time for six months, ever since I quit my bartending job back in March. At first, it seemed like a dream come true. I was ghostwriting a novel for a client who paid me well; I landed a consistent gig writing articles for a sexual health website; I was writing regularly for my blog, doing well enough to earn the first $500 bonus.

Then, in July, on my 25th birthday, my ghostwriting client had to put our project on hold, and though I’ve put my resume out, sent out my portfolio, and pitched clients, I haven’t been able to find a suitable replacement for that income.

Now, admittedly, I’m not great with money. I’m terrible at saving, and moving into a new apartment right after losing my primary income source certainly didn’t help. Being scatterbrained and impulsive due to ADHD isn’t any benefit either.

I’m saying all this because I want to make it clear: If you’re a motivated, driven, and responsible person who can handle the freelancing game, more power to you. But keep in mind that it is a game—a competitive one at that.

Beyond that, my mental health is the worst it’s been since the start of the pandemic, and that’s largely in part due to the stress/guilt cycle I’ve wormed my way into as a freelancer.

I know most people want to hear the good things about freelancing—it’s great being your own boss, setting your own hours, and working how you want; it’s great doing what you love for a living and living your best life—but keep in mind that when writers tell you how great their lives are because of freelancing, they’re speaking to their situation specifically.

A situation that isn’t reproducible.

More than that, there’s an incentive for them to write a piece like that: you will click on it and read it, and they’ll earn more money. I’m not saying they can’t have altruistic motives, but successful online writers know how to write headlines that grab you and articles that keep you reading; it’s a skill that doesn’t always require honesty.

I’m just saying, be wary. Life, careers, happiness, ambition—these aren’t one-size-fits-all things. There were three main factors behind my decision to stop being a full-time freelancer, and none of them was laziness.

1. I can still write

This was true before I stopped bartending, too, and was, in fact, the reason I was able to leave that job at all — a decision I don’t regret, despite recent circumstances. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the restaurant industry isn’t doing well at the moment. I was miserable, and I decided to take a chance on something new.

Freelancing opened up a lot of new opportunities for me. I would never have written about, for example, prostate health or testicular cancer if I hadn’t taken on some freelance work. I’ve learned a ton and branched into areas I never thought I’d write about. I also got lucky that the clients I found paid well. Most of them don’t.

However, spending all day writing for other people made me less inclined to spend my free time writing for myself. My personal output plummeted; many creative projects were left abandoned. Then, I had to spend time scouting freelance job boards, looking for more work.

One of the most popular ones—All Freelance Writing—has three jobs listed at the time of writing. Three. And I’ll reiterate the advice of many of my peers: stay the hell away from Upwork and Fiverr if you want to be paid a rate worth your time. So often, these sites are a race to the bottom, with clients accepting writers who offer the cheapest rates, especially if you’re starting.

I learned this big lesson: most people don’t care how good you are, only that you’re good enough and affordable. Some people might be okay with that, but I’m not.

When I was bartending, I worked long, stressful hours, and I was still behind on my bills. I didn’t get to see my friends because I was working when they weren’t. On my days off, I felt so drained I spent the whole day resting—I certainly wasn’t going to write anything good.

But working at a bookstore, I’m surrounded by stories. It’s a calming, comfortable place, and people don’t scream at you over a sauce missing on their burger. Hangry people don’t walk into bookstores demanding food; they want to buy some books. The hours are better, and in my free time, I’m rested enough to still want to write.

I can still do some freelance work on the side without having to rely on it. More importantly, I can focus on my personal projects.

2. I have a steady wage and benefits

I know some writers will claim that benefits are just a way of employers paying you less, that if you’re driven enough and work hard enough to make it on your own, you don’t need these things.

As someone who’s had to pay for his own lackluster health insurance, set aside money to pay taxes, and still doesn’t really know what exactly a 401(k) is, I’d like to argue that point.

Perhaps in the corporate 9–5 world of sales calls and newsrooms, benefits may seem to be a placeholder for higher wages, a consolation prize for all the hard work you’ve put in. Coming from 8 years of restaurant work, though, I’ve never had benefits. I didn’t even earn minimum wage. I relied solely on tips, had to pay out-of-pocket for health insurance, and had to pay back a portion of that each year in taxes that weren’t withheld from my pay.

That didn’t change when I started freelancing, and now that the world seems to think the pandemic is over, many of the additional benefits of pandemic assurance are gone, too. For example, from January to June, my health provider didn’t make me pay for my psychiatry, which allowed me to discover that I had ADHD, get medicated, and attempt to figure my shit out. Then, in July, without warning, I had to pay an additional $170 monthly for my psychiatry appointments—after I’d become reliant on these visits.

So yeah, my employer offering health insurance sounds pretty nice right now. Paid time off sounds great, too, because I haven’t taken time off in, well, years if we count my previous restaurant work.

3. Writing full-time made me less inclined to write for myself

At first, writing full-time sounded great, especially when I was able to work on creative projects. But as time went on, so much of my creative energy was put into writing things for other people: a novel, a blog post, a screenplay—whatever it was, at the end of the day, it wasn’t for me.

And if a project was too taxing creatively, the last thing I wanted to do was sit down and write more for a story that might go nowhere. I have a limited attention span, and outlining is easily the most difficult part of the process for me, so if that drive burned away, I had nothing left.

I can achieve the most balance in my life by working a steady job, doing a few freelance projects to make some extra money, and dedicating more of my free time to personal and passionate projects. Plus, being surrounded by books all day is a great source of inspiration.

I love writing. I have for well over a decade, since I was a teenager. As a kid, I loved making movies on the family camcorder with army men and Gundams. What I have always loved about writing was storytelling, and I’ve been very fortunate to say I’ve been paid to tell stories.

A lot of paid writing gigs, though, aren’t storytelling. It’s SEO writing with keyword counts; it’s listicles and low pay rates; it’s soulless and draining, and you have to bust your ass to make it.

Or be very, very lucky.

I’m not saying all this to say it isn’t worth it or that you should give up on your dream, but I want to offer the other side of freelancing that people don’t talk about as often. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows.

Sometimes, it’s thunderstorms and tornadoes.