…and I’m Worth It.
stacks on deck*
“You’re super-smart and a great writer, so…”
I love conversations that start out like that. I love it even more when the remainder of the conversation isn’t someone trying to get me to write for free.
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what has happened more than a few times after I hung out my proverbial shingle and offered up custom writing services. Some folks have balked at my estimates, their unspoken logic–though it’s never stated so explicitly–is: “It’s just writing. Why should it cost so much?”
My unspoken response is: “Well, if it’s just writing…then why don’t you do it yourself…for free?”
It all comes down to this: Writing isn’t valued by a lot of folks. This means that when I started charging for my writing services, I had to be clear about my professional worth. I did my homework and created a price list for every possible thing anyone could ask me to write. I only used it internally to create the detailed proposals I sent in response to requests. I tweaked based on the “size” of the client. I had corporate rates, regular rates, non-profit rates, and “friend” rates.
I was able to stand my ground on these numbers because I had friends who understand my professional worth long before I did. They told me to never shy away from asking for what I was worth and to be willing to walk away if someone expects me to sell myself short.
Not surprisingly, these same friends made sure I didn’t sell myself short when I re-entered the dating game, which was right around the same time I declared myself a Real Writer. Talk about being fresh meat… But thanks to my friends (and my own common sense–most of the time), I didn’t settle for the guy who was at a stalemate with his a live-in girlfriend as to who should move out–but who insisted that he just had to kiss me. I didn’t settle even though a woman a few years my senior once told me that when I got to be her age and had had 35 first dates in one year like she had, I would understand why she settled–and I would learn to settle too. I didn’t settle when a guy who had absolutely nothing to offer me wanted to demand everything of me. I refused to settle for less than I wanted and less than I was worth just to stave off loneliness. I held out for what I wanted…and I got him. Personally as well as professionally, I stopped worrying about asking for too much, and I stopped being afraid to say, “This is what I deserve. This is what I’m worth.”
Over the last few years, I got out of the dating game and I got away from custom writing, aside from the occasional resumé. I began to do more freelancing, to promote our co-parenting site, and to work on our co-parenting book proposal.
Recently, however, two friends brought me of retirement called me and started the conversation with the above-mentioned flattery. They are both artists (different and multiple mediums), and they need some writing done that will do justice to a multi-media and performance art installation project on which they are collaborating with other artists in other disciplines. It’s all very rich and social justice-y and techy and artsy…if you can imagine that. And they want me to translate it all into words.
So when I gave them my quote, and they didn’t balk, I heaved a sigh of relief. Asking for what I’m worth is kind of like riding a bicycle, I guess. It had been a while, but I was still able to get right back on and keep my balance.
Recently, BabyGirl said something that let me know that while some adults don’t value writing as “real” work, she does. For the past two years, I’ve served as president of the Parents Association at the girls’ school, so I’m in the building a lot, and I even have a cubicle in one of the offices. Some of the kids think I’m an employee. The other day, one of BabyGirl’s kindergarten classmates asked her if I worked at the school.
BG replied, “No, she volunteers.”
Boy: “Well, she should work here.”
BG: “She can’t! She’s already working. She’s writing a book, she’s teaching, and driving around to get stuff for us!”
Ah, that did my heart glad.
*Don’t get me wrong. Unless your name is “Stephen King”, chances are you’re not getting filthy rich on your writing. Most writers I know stay afloat via a patchwork quilt of income from freelancing, books, and teaching.