You’re drawn to working on your own because you want to do it your way.  You don’t want a boss. You hate punching a clock, asking permission to do stuff, going to meetings, trusting your fate to some company.

You’d rather run your own life, and not be blown around by someone else’s winds.

Yeah, me too.

But there’s flip side to all that sweet autonomy. It hit me sharply about three days after I went freelance.

All my excuses were suddenly null and void.

Once I took the rudder, I couldn’t blame a bone-brained boss, or crotchety company policy or a damn re-org for my troubles.

I realized that when you have virtually complete say over who, what, where, how and when, griping and whining get you no sympathy points whatever.

Worse yet, the only thing that bitching does is instantly give you a list of stuff you have to fix, start doing, or stop doing.  (Which is, when you’re hoping for a little sympathy, is irritating in the extreme.)

On the other side of your gripe is your game plan.

For me, the internal chatter goes something like this. (Oddly, the other voice sounds like that hard-chinned English teacher of mine from high school, the one who brooked no bullshit in her class whatever.)

“Oh, the economy sucks right now. Nobody has any budgets.”

Really?  Nobody?  How many clients said they had no money?  Three hundred and twelve?  Every company east of Pittsburgh? You can’t find three, four or five clients who have some money? Look for companies who are used to paying twice what you charge. Then offer them brilliance for 20% less.

Better yet, why can’t you offer something amazing they will find the budget for?  Um, . . . I don’t know, try something.

“Clients just don’t value this work. They just want cheap and fast.”

So?  Are you chained to these pinchpennies?  Find clients who thrive on really good work. Start with companies who have dazzlingly good web sites, brilliant content, irresistible product photography. Contact them.  Find agencies, marketing firms, web developers who are doing amazing stuff. Attract them.  Or, duh, find out what clients will pay big money for.

“Everybody takes so long to pay.”

Then don’t work for laggards. From now on, get half the money in advance.  Make them commit, up front, in writing, when they will pay. If you must wait for your money, double your rates.  At least you’ll be waiting for a bigger check, no?

“There are too many people doing [ insert trade here ]. And they’re all working for peanuts.”

So don’t be ‘just another’ [ insert trade here ].  Be something entirely different.  Nine times more appealing, smarter, more distinctive. Offer something they don’t. Or can’t. Or won’t. Specialize in something insanely narrow, like menus for noodle shops, copy for people who hate to read, black-and-white logos, one-page web sites.  And really, if you can be outdone by someone who works for eleven dollars, you’re doing it wrong.

“I’m no good at promoting myself.”

Then stop promoting, hawking and marketing yourself like an ass.  Instead, engage some people, one on one.  Send a human-to-human email (or even a handwritten note) to three new people every day for a month. And make it about them.  Don’t yammer about yourself.

While you’re doing that, make your current clients feel so damn excited that they can’t help but tell nine other people about you.

Put something on your web site that is so stunningly different that it scares you. Do some work for small local charity that has a crappy web site with god-awful content. Do something.

“Some days I just can’t stand the work.”

Would you rather be twenty feet up a ladder, sizzling in the sun, scraping fifty years of paint off an old house?  Remember that?  Or driving to your cubicle job with an awful twist in your guts because you’re about to get chewed out?  Remember that?

Yes, I remember. Never mind.