Today I got that call.
The one offering me a freelance job that I know I’m good at, but that I don’t particularly enjoy.
I’m not going to be more specific than that, because it’s not fair on the client. It’s a writing job that can be done badly in a day or so. But done well, it actually takes far longer than anyone realises. It also has office politics baked into the brief, often putting me in a position where I’m trying to please several people at once, all with very different agendas, views and needs. I usually finish with everyone fairly happy, but it’s a tricky balancing act. As I say, I’m good at it.
Most freelancers have something like this, a task that is tricky to do well, or that they simply don’t like.
And most of us then follow the same train of thought: I won’t enjoy one bit of this. But I need the money. And if I turn it down, they might not come back to me with other things I will enjoy.
So how do we price for it?
My friend Anna is a DJ. She has an almost uncanny ability to read a dancefloor, to play just the right thing to get a party started, then keep the energy going.
Sometimes, she is asked to play weddings. Now weddings aren’t much fun for her. They often involve long drives to the venue, followed by hours of work in a room where she knows virtually no one except possibly the bride or groom, who sort of have other things going on that day. She can’t drink: partly because she’s driving, but also because loo breaks are pretty difficult. Then there are the competing requests from four generations of guests, often including elderly relatives who just want her to ‘turn that racket down so I can hear myself think’.
In situations like this, there are three questions to ask yourself.
Do I really need this money?
If you don’t, just say no. Make it a policy that you just don’t do this kind of project, ever. Simple.
Everyone should be aiming to get to a point in their business where they can turn away work and/or clients they don’t enjoy.
But if you’re not yet at that point, the next question is this:
What would make this job easier, or more fun?
For Anna, it was taking an assistant to weddings. Someone who could drive, so she could have a drink or two, and get in the party mood. Someone to help carry and set up her gear, but more importantly, someone to keep her company, cover her during loo breaks, and also help charm and placate the guests with their conflicting demands.
“I’d always get to a big event like this early, to make sure everything is ready when the party needs to start,” she says. “But that can mean a lot of hanging around on my own, and it would change everything just to have someone to talk to, and to help me out.”
For you, it might be something different.
With the writing job, I ask that all the different departments involved give me a clear brief of what they want and need in advance, rather than waiting until after I’ve written it, then passing it round asking for so many conflicting tweaks and changes that the piece turns into a hackneyed mess.
This is more work upfront, but usually means that everyone is happier with the result, and feels they have a stake in it.
After that, it’s all about how much to charge. So your final question:
How much would it take for me to do this with a big smile?
After thinking about it for a while, Anna decided to ask for five times her usual fee for weddings. This extra, ‘smile money’ would enable her to take her children out somewhere special, to make up for missing a Saturday with them. She could also pay an assistant, and still have enough to do the job with genuine pleasure. Because who wants a glum entertainer at their wedding?
A few weeks after we talked this through, Anna got a request to play at another wedding. She named her new fee, and the happy couple said they couldn’t possibly afford that. She called me, distressed. “I’m going to lose the job!” she said.
“Maybe,” I replied. “But that’s OK.”
Being told you’re too expensive can be uncomfortable.
But there will always be someone cheaper than you, no matter how low your price. And the numbers are pretty clear. You can do five jobs, resentfully, for (say) £200 each. Or you can do just one, with a big smile on your face, for £1000. A lot of people will want to pay less, and that’s fine.
They are not your customers.
But every so often, someone will see the value in what you’re offering. They love your work. They love your attitude. They want what you do, and they think you’re worth it.
It was months before Anna booked another wedding. The couple paid her new fee happily. They were fans, and really wanted her there on their special day. They’d met in a club where she’d been playing, and had been regulars at her gigs ever since.
“It was a great night,” Anna said later. “It was my kind of crowd, but they were also good sports when I played a few middle-of-the-road party tunes for the older guests, or for the children.”
Get comfortable turning people down.
It never feels good not to get a job. Especially if you’re worried about paying your bills that month. But in the long run, what would you rather have: one or two jobs a year, that can be a bit stressful and difficult, but that pay you enough to make that hassle feel worthwhile? Or 5-10 of those same jobs, earning you about the same in total?
The maths on this is common sense. The emotions are what is difficult: the fear that no-one will ever pay your higher fee, and in the meantime you’re turning down money you could use. And let’s be clear. This is only going to work if you are putting great work out there, and have some proof that you’re good at what you do.
So back that difficult writing job.
I charge a fee that is so far over the usual price for this job that the person at the other end of the phone often gasps when I say it. Usually, it means I don’t get the project, and I’m fine with that. I even have a list of really talented, younger writers I can recommend, who will be glad of the work.
But occasionally, I do get the commission, because the people involved want me to do it. They don’t complain about the higher price. In fact, they respect my input more because of it. I get thank you notes afterwards, sometimes even flowers. I do it a couple of times a year, at most.
And I do it with a big, genuine smile on my face.
What do you think?