A few weeks ago, I did something I often do when Iām on a tight deadline ā I procrastinated.
Instead of reading through my final draft of a story due an hour later, I opened my inbox in search of an email I hadnāt clicked on in years.
A client sent it to me during one of the most difficult moments in my career.
The email and the tense phone conversation that preceded it made me decide that, although Iād successfully been navigating the industry for three years, it was perhaps time to abandon journalism as a career path.
If not for a fellow freelance journalistās encouragement and support, I would likely not be writing this newsletter to you today. He talked me out of that drastic decision, insisting that there were different kinds of journalism and different kinds of journalists. OK, the work I had been doing for this client was not a good fit, but there were lots of other kinds of work I could be doing instead, he insisted.
I took his advice to heart, deleted the apologetic, subservient email I had written up, and instead replied with a short but courteous professional break-up message thanking the client for their feedback and wishing them well.
With the distance of time and with my deadline ticking, I noticed a few things when I reread the email that had set off my existential crisis. First of all, this client had not allowed me to set my own price; had insisted on a level of availability that made it possible for me to work for other clients; and became irate when I turned assignments down. In fact, my decision to turn down work she had offered me is what led to the beginning of the ending of the relationship. These are all characteristics of fake or bogus self-employment, Iāve since learned.
But, more than anything, this client had forced me to do work that wasnāt at all a good fit. Thatās why the relation became so tense.
I was reminded of the whole experience as a result of a few conversations Iāve had with friends about work recently; about finding work that suits oneās personality and doing things that donāt gel with who we are as part of our jobs.
Iāve found myself explaining that although my chosen profession doesnāt suit my personality, Iāve found a way to make it work over time. Because Iāve had that freedom as a freelancer.
Iām too shy to do man-on-the-street interviews, so Iāve focused on writing about EU policy for a few well-respected business publications, publications the mention of which generally makes interviewees want to talk to me.
Iām too sensitive to write about the kinds of high-profile or controversial topics that would flood my inbox with angry emails from readers all the time. Here, too, my choice to focus on business-y topics has been a wise one. To be able to send me an angry email about a story I wrote, youāll first need to cough up an expensive subscription to read that paywalled story.
I care deeply about social justice so I balance this business/policy writing with writing about topics like climate change, racial discrimination and civil society.
And over time, I stopped doing all the things I hated: covering conferences and writing up conference reports, doing breaking news for general-interest publications, etc.
In other words, as a freelancer Iāve been able to identify and carve out my own little niche in this very broad field that is journalism, one that works for me. To borrow a phrase from a column that I had hanging on my bathroom wall for several years, I āfound my placeā.
The column, which manages to be funny and comforting in equal measure while also offering plenty of advice for creatives, was written by the France-based writer Pamela Druckerman for the NYT. In it, she makes the same argument I just did, but ā¦ well ā¦ better. āIāve always liked this idea that, somewhere in the world, thereās a gap shaped just like you,ā she writes. āOnce you find it, youāll slide right in.ā
(If a creative person in your life, be it salaried or freelance, is going through an existential career crisis, I highly recommend sending it to them.)
So, when I reread that soul-crushing, confidence-destroying email from all those years ago (did I mention Iām overly sensitive?), I absorbed it very differently than I had at the time. I could see now that this client was pushing me into a gap shaped like someone else and that I wasnāt āsliding right intoā it at all, to put it mildly.
Iād be curious to hear from those of you whoāve adapted their work to their personality rather than vice versa. What is your own little niche; how did you find it and what makes it work for you? As always, you can reach us by email or leave a comment on this post on our website. And please consider supporting this newsletter with a Ko-fi donation if youāre able to. You can donate as little as ā¬3, and it really helps up keep this community going.
Linda