The Game
Years ago, before I became a freelance, I was a student like you probably were. There was a pub about five minutes walk from the sixth-form college, and at lunch-times – or whenever we could in the summer, especially when it was baking – we’d head there for a drink or two, but mainly just to hang out in the Sun. One day, a guy started hanging out there too. All the girls we were with fancied him; not really because he was that good-looking, more because he exuded a strong independent charisma, sitting there on his own on his table working away feverishly on his A4 pad. Every now and again he’d look up and catch one of us talking about him and put his hand up. One day, four weeks or so after he’d started coming to the pub, one of our group, I don’t remember who, worked up the guts to go and ask him what he was doing. We all made bets: mine was not “work”.
Yet when this girl came back – can’t even remember what her name was now – she said he was a freelancer. A writer. This? His job. To sit and write and then later, transcribe everything to computer and send it in. I thought he was joking, and it was only years later that I realised that actually, that really was what he was doing.
The guy wasn’t the only thing which pointed me in freelance’s direction, but he certainly helped. I liked the look of the freedom he had access to. Passing your days in the Summer sitting there sipping wine seemed great to me.
Obviously it isn’t always great. One thing I never knew about was the loneliness you can sometimes feel. The fact that you can’t just play a strike solitaire card game in your lunch-break, because, generally speaking, you are the only employee of your company.
Still, I wouldn’t change how it is. Once you’ve started the freelance game, it’s hard to think of yourself following any other path.
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