I recently decided to take a step back from one of the freelance services I provide. It wasn’t an easy decision. It’s the activity I see as my main profession; my defining identity even – journalism. As a journalist, I’ve been able to answer many of my own questions; I’ve been able to go behind the scenes of places that I would otherwise never have been to; and I’ve met all sorts of interesting people.
Journalism fits the person I am. I am curious, I have all sorts of questions about how this world works, I love languages and I hate injustice. But my journalism has increasingly started to feel like a toxic relationship – the kind where you try to cover up the growing problems with the memories of previous good times.
Something snapped while I worked on a story for an international publication, a story that paid a flat fee of €300 ($347). Before I got to work on the piece, I received different briefs from different editors who had different ideas about what the focus of the project should be. I conducted research, I read reports, interviewed five different sources and also agreed on the final focus of the story with the editors. I was able to conduct a few of the interviews over Zoom, but I had no choice but to also make a couple of international calls. My phone expenses were not reimbursed. One of the interviewees demanded that I include promotional information in the piece – a request that I did not meet, but which had to be dealt with in a long phone call.
The media company, meanwhile, had sent me an eight-page document detailing their payment system. I wasn’t allowed to simply send them an invoice; they had their own forms. After I’d completed their form, I created my own invoice for my own bookkeeping and accountant. Finally, I was asked to arrange royalty-free images that could be used to illustrate the article. And I still had to write the piece itself of course.
I submitted the story on the day it was due. In spite of my reminders, I didn’t hear anything for two weeks. Then, one morning, I got an email saying that the article would be published that same day. The editor wanted to double-check a few details and also wanted me to send an additional photo along. “Can you get this to us in the next two hours?” she asked me. I could not, because a camera crew was waiting for me that day. I was in the middle of a shoot for “Waarom werk niet werkt“, or “Why work isn’t working” in English. It was a documentary that explored why so many jobs today require us to have lots of degrees, experience and especially passion for our jobs, while giving little back in the way of security, rights or pay. Oh, the irony.
Adding up all the hours I put into that story – which focused on a topic that I find incredibly important and interesting by the way – made me realise that I might as well have been working as a volunteer. I’ve always known that freelance journalism isn’t exactly a gold mine. As Linda has observed in previous newsletters, money isn’t the only reason to do or not do something; how clients treat you can make all the difference.
The above example ticked all my frustration boxes but, unfortunately, it’s not that uncommon for a journalism assignment to go hand in hand with one of the following elements: unanswered emails; an obscure schedule; no reimbursement of expenses; hidden scope creep; and a complicated payment system.
I have taken on other assignments in the past to be able to fund my articles, but my journalism assignments aren’t so easy to combine with other work. What’s more, I’ve started to enjoy my other freelance activities as an event programmer and presenter more and more. This work also allows me to satisfy my curiosity and meet interesting people, but there’s no chronic underpayment or overtime.
I still feel like a journalist and there are a few clients with whom I’ll gladly continue working. But I’ve decided to cut down on this freelance activity and to use the extra time to work on a new book – the type of writing work that I can combine with my other activities.
I love journalism, but journalism doesn’t love me back. So it’s best for us to take a break. Maybe it’ll be a short one, maybe it’ll last for ever.
Do you sometimes wonder whether the industry you’re active in is still working for you? Let us know by emailing us at freelancerthefriendly@gmail.com
Selma
What I’m listening to, reading, watching this week:
Time for another article on why it’s so useful to discuss how much you make with others. Plus advice to help you broach that conversation.