Bailiffs and Slim-Fast: three months freelancing
“Hello… High Court Enforcement! Can you open the door, please?”
It’s a phrase I heard plenty of times in November and December. Over that time, I saw more than my fair share of burly men coming a-knocking to settle debts, seize assets and carry out evictions.
If this makes it sound like my start to life as a freelance copywriter has been a cataclysmic disaster, then, to paraphrase Mark Twain: ‘reports of my financial death have been greatly exaggerated’.
I’m not skint and I’m not going bankrupt. But I have fallen into the trap of watching Can’t Pay? We’ll Take It Away! on Channel 5 far too much during what previously would have been my office hours. And that’s because, as I have come to discover over the last 13 weeks, I picked what was probably the worst time imaginable to go self-employed.
I left my full-time role as Lead Copywriter for a local B2B marketing agency on November 1st. In doing so, I hit a triple-whammy of marketing turbulence: the most important general election campaign in a generation, the ongoing uncertainty over Brexit, and the start of the run-up to Christmas when everything seems to gradually wind down.
Now, when you’re in regular daily contact with a team of colleagues, it’s much easier to keep your feet on the ground in times like this. But when you’re home alone with nothing for company but a pile of emails and LinkedIn messages you’ve sent that have gone unanswered, it’s an extremely tough place to be.
With not much work to be getting on with and little else to keep me occupied during the day, I quickly slipped into the dangerous routine of daytime TV, boredom eating and early pub visits. Combined with the absence of my 10-mile daily cycle commute that had helped keep me fit for the previous four years, I was piling on the pounds as well as feeling ignored, miserable and just downright bloody sorry for myself.
To be brutally honest, there were a couple of times in December when I thought: “Hmm. I might have colossally fucked up my career here.” It was only a chance to get away to Spain over Christmas and New Year that helped me snap out of my malaise.
“Look, you’re on your own here, Dan,” I told myself while I was away. “Nobody is going to make this work for you except you. There will be light at the end of the tunnel and it’s up to you to push yourself every single day. Be more proactive in your prospecting, keep on contacts’ toes to get some briefs, and remember that you aren’t the only person short of work this time of year. Oh, and if you’re going to be at home during office hours, you might as well sign up for the local gym and go there when it’s quiet. You fat git.”
Those of you reading this blog who know me personally will know that I don’t do wishy-washy, emotional stuff very often. Actually, I don’t do wishy-washy, emotional stuff at all. So you’ll understand that I don’t say the following lightly: that one-man talking-to has changed my life.
The bailiffs were the first to go. Out went Can’t Pay? We’ll Take It Away!; in came Classic FM as a soothing background to my day (unless they put ‘Mars’ from Gustav Holst’s Planets on because that just gets me over-excited). Out went all alcohol during the week and the rubbish I was eating for lunch; in came the Slim-Fast twice a day. And out went the ceaseless pottering around the flat, and in came 90 minutes at the gym from 10:00 every weekday morning.
A month in, and the results have been truly transformative already. I’ve lost 4kg in weight, with more to come. I feel more motivated and alert at my desk. I find it much easier to get out of bed. I’ve set new personal bests for running 5km (24:09) and 10km (52:16), and I’ve just entered my first half-marathon.
But above all else, I’m probably as relaxed, calm and as mentally healthy overall as I’ve ever been. I used to overthink the future and set myself targets, mainly based on at least achieving parity with my old full-time copy job. Now I’ve come to realise that as long as I’ve got enough work coming in to cover my living costs, I can more or less do what I want, when I want.
No commute in the pouring rain. No managers on my back. No noisy office full of people rabbiting on about sodding Love Island. Just me, the gym, Classic FM and a load of clothes that suddenly fit me again. The fact that the work has now started to come in is just the icing on the cake.
I was originally going to sign off by saying that I’m genuinely confident that I’m going to turn a big corner in February as my schedule fills up. But on reflection, I think the truly important corner has already been turned.
TL;DR (for the time-poor reader): copywriter went freelance, felt a bit crap at first, sorted his life out, now feels much better. Then about 350 words of gushing, self-indulgent nonsense that would have embarrassed a Gwyneth Paltrow award acceptance speech.