Hi friend,
Welcome to the first Tuesday edition of Social Media Detox!
The Tuesday edition is the first long-form content from the newsletter, covering a wide array of topics that affect us all as professionals, creatives, and semi-real adults. It’ll address the scary stuff we have to work through and tell ourselves isn’t f*cking terrifying. It’ll discuss current events and topics through the lens of a very online, very anxious person. It may even include interviews and thoughts from others in our world.
While I love curating links and articles for you all, I’m so excited to get this chance to write more original, long content for you. Hopefully you’ll like it? 🤞
Today, I wanted to start with a topic I get asked about often: how I went full-time freelance and how you can do it too.
This first issue is free for all subscribers, but if you want to keep getting this in your inbox, you can upgrade to a paid subscription here.
Anywho, without further ado… enjoy the first Tuesday issue! ✌️
with warmth + love,
N
“Quit your job,” they said. “It’ll be fun,” they said.
And you know what? It’s actually been a lot of fun. But also deeply, deeply scary.
Let’s go back in time for a bit.
I had always toyed with the idea of taking on freelance work. Working on passion projects or flexing your skills with clients seemed so fulfilling. But it was always in the context of being a side hustle. Always alongside my reliable full-time job that I absolutely needed to have to be considered a real, functioning, acceptable human being.
Joke’s on me: In those early years of my career, I had many full-time jobs that weren’t that reliable and made me feel less real, less functioning, and less acceptable.
As the negative thoughts mounted from years of trying out new jobs, the potential of going freelance seemed more and more alluring. I started thinking, “What’s the worst that could happen?” I decided that if I didn’t like it or it failed, I could reframe this move as an extended job hunt.
Simultaneously, I started taking on more part-time freelance work in addition to my full-time job. In the process, I found people that really wanted to work with me.
That initial part-time freelance work was fulfilling and addictive. I had a taste of the life, and I wanted more. But it was also a deeply validating experience that proved to my inner doubting voices that I could, in fact, make this work.
Nothing like deeply-rooted imposter syndrome to need validation to make the next move.
I’m gonna pause here because I know some of you reading this might be at that part-time stage. You might be spending years getting gig work alongside your full-time job. And that’s perfectly fine. That work is so important and can truly reinvigorate the love for your craft. If you have zero aspirations of taking on freelance work full-time, your journey is still valid. Everyone has a different career journey, and this is simply mine.
So, I quit my full-time job. A few things happened here in quick succession.
I arbitrarily picked a date on the calendar and gave my two-week notice. I asked my part-time clients if they’d be interested in working more with me. I put out a few posts on LinkedIn and Twitter, letting people know I was available for work. And I planned to have a week off in between my job departure and starting freelance work.
I also had a lot of people telling me how brave the move was. How they always dreamed of doing it, but couldn’t work up the courage. How it really was bold of me to bet on myself. I had a lot of people, who I’m so thankful for, recommending me to others for freelance work. In that planned week off, I booked 10 new client discovery calls. Not advisable, but I was immediately thinking about the bills I had to pay with no income.
Despite the support I received, I didn’t feel very brave making this move. I felt incredibly scared and anxious. I was terrified of figuring out taxes, LLCs, business accounts, write-offs, and tech systems. I was anxious about pitching calls (would people like me??), quoting my rate (how much money am I worth??), and planning out client work (can I do it all??).
Essentially, every personal insecurity I’d harbored over the years manifested itself in these moments. But, in some wild way, it kind of worked for me. I had no time or choice but to confront a lot of these challenges. I embraced delusion.
This is where I also find it important to tell people about the advantages I’ve had along the way – because without them, I might not still be here surpassing two years full-time freelance.
I have a husband with a dependable full-time job that provides us with health insurance. This is, inherently, a massive privilege – especially living in the U.S., where the quality of your healthcare is tied to your employment. While we accepted that I’d be taking a pay cut (at least initially), we didn’t have to worry about losing our house or our life. We didn’t have to worry about our IVF treatments (for a later issue of ‘scary stuff’). I didn’t have to deal with the logistical headache of switching doctors or taking out loans.
This is not to say that people without partners can’t be full-time freelancers. Of course, many people have done this and continue to do it well. But the reality of my story is that I had a lot of help.
Frankly, if you’re in a high-risk situation, it’s totally understandable not to make this move. At the end of the day, taking on full-time freelance work is not dependable, and you need to take care of yourself – even if that means staying in a job just for the salary and benefits. If you’re still craving the freelance life, this is where part-time gig work can be a great option.
It would be irresponsible to ignore the inherent privilege that comes from me being a white woman with a college degree and 8+ years of job experience. Unfortunately, there are clients who will discriminate and pay freelancers less because they’re not from the U.S., don’t have a college degree, or have less experience. There are so many injustices within the freelance world, and it’s impossible for me not to acknowledge that I had a leg up. It’s not fair at all. But I’ve aimed to correct this in my work by helping other freelancers push for higher rates and educating clients on fair practices for their contract workers.
Lastly, I’m proud to have built a solid industry network. I’ve always believed in the power of lifting others up. After over two years of freelance work, I still rely mostly on inbound recommendations from friends and colleagues.
These warm leads are a direct result of spending years fostering relationships within my community. When I went full-time freelance, I had spent two years on Marketing Twitter, a community that deeply fueled me through the pandemic and inspired my bold career change. Prior to that, I kept in touch with contacts from every job I had held. I prioritized real, human connection and lifted folks up when they needed it, too.
This wasn’t to be transactional. It’s always been because I truly love watching people succeed. I love hyping up my friends and watching the most capable people I know achieve their goals. And when I need people to hype me, I know those people will be there. I’ll forever be thankful to the ones who helped me in my early days.
Building a strong network or community is something I encourage everyone to do. When you have a community behind you, things like this feel less scary and less lonely.
Two years flew by so quickly, but many of these lessons are still the same. Especially as I transition into a new phase of full-time freelance work: actually treating this like a business.
In January, I started working with a business coach to help me think strategically about the next phase of NT+Co. and Social Media Detox. Spoiler: as you’re reading this, you’re currently in the next phase of my journey.
The new scary stuff I’m realizing about going freelance full-time is that there’s not really a clear career trajectory like there often is in traditional jobs. I started noticing people talk to me as a founder and business owner, so I started trying to act like one. One day, I woke up and changed my email signature to “Founder” instead of “Author” for the newsletter, but truthfully, I don’t know who I’ll be in six months or a year. I find myself floating between the realms of the creators, the managers, and the C-suite execs.
Honestly, that’s also the exciting part. I love being able to reinvent myself somewhat easily. When I would typically be looking to change jobs, I’m instead prioritizing different work and allotting time for the things that now bring me joy.
It’s scary to experience growth that you simultaneously feel ready for and not ready for.
I know that’s a confusing statement, so here’s how my brain is processing it: I feel ready to embrace this new stage of my career and my business. But I also feel like a fraud at times. Like someone’s going to see that I’m no one’s Founder, and I’m just figuring it out as I go.
But I am figuring it out as I go. Why does that seem like a bad thing? Aren’t we all trying our best? The scary stuff keeps us from wanting to figure it out, in fear we’ll fail. But what’s the worst thing that could happen?
I think I’d like to find out.
Thanks for joining me for the first long-form issue of Social Media Detox, friend! As always, leave me a comment or reply with any feedback. 🤍
Great essay, Nicole! I’m thinking of going full time freelance so this is very timely 😂