On Freelance Writing

It's not for the faint of heart

I've always been hesitant to discuss the inner workings of freelance journalism publicly, mostly because I don’t feel like I’ve figured it out either. While there are folks who make six figures from it, I have never been one of them. I just spent six full days reporting and writing a $600 piece, which amounts to $100 a day or 12 dollars an hour, and I’m sitting here—for the millionth time this year—questioning my career choices.

I went to NYU as an undergrad to study journalism. Journalism majors at NYU were forced to double major specifically because of the industry's precarity. I choose politics, though in retrospect, I really wish I had mastered a language instead. When our professors gave us career advice, the sentiment seemed to be: “Don’t do it,” “Get a day job,” or “Marry rich.”

Of course, I didn’t listen to any of that, and I started off in this industry as most do—naively. During my senior year of college, I cut my teeth writing quick $15-a-pop food blog pieces for the Village Voice and had to file a minimum of five a day.

I’m a sadist, perhaps, when it comes to work. But I’ve been a freelance journalist for the majority of my career and for over a decade now because I like the independence that comes with it—the ability to set my own hours, chase my own stories, and set my own pace. I like diving deep into obscure topics and finding angles on food and culture that others haven’t thought of.

However, the financial viability and emotional toll of this industry isn’t for everyone.

I’ll break it down:

Financial viability: While I’ll occasionally land a high-profile publication that pays a decent $1/word, I only get a couple of these a year.

I mostly rake in about $500 to $600 for a 1000-to 1500-word article, which again, sometimes will only average out to $12/hour. Sometimes I’ll do $300 pieces, but only if they’re quick and don’t require much reporting. For the last four years, the bulk of my income has come from video production work, which can start from $500/day.

I won’t disclose how much I make per year, but it’s not enough to comfortably support a family of three in Los Angeles. I make it work because I live in Taiwan where the cost of living is significantly lower.

Emotional toll: When I first started out, I’d cold-email over 20 editors a week in hopes of landing a piece. I’ve become more strategic about this, but a decade later, it hasn’t gotten much easier. It’s exhausting having to prove yourself and your ideas over and over again.

But the hard part isn’t actually the pitching. Rejection and reinvention come with the territory and I’ve come to terms with that.

It’s the occasional ghosting. I once pitched a prominent magazine about a story on why Swedish homes are all painted red. The editor said she loved it. I took that as a yes and started planning my travel around it. I asked when I should file but I never got a response. (I ended up placing that story for the Smithsonian)

Many years back, I filed a reported feature about a prominent restaurant chain for a universally beloved and extremely responsive food editor who had approached me about the topic. I was paid, but the piece was never published. I asked for an update, but she never responded. Then she left the publication. Maybe unrelated, but she also unfollowed me on all social media.

Because freelancers are more often than not just another email in the inbox, we’re easy to ignore, which makes work really difficult.

I’m constantly chasing late payments, which is frustrating because it’s 2024 and why are people still issuing paper checks? I have one client that does instantaneous payment upon publication and if they can do that, surely everyone can?

The future: I’ll be honest, while I love what I do and have somehow managed to find a mid-level sort of success in it, I’m not optimistic about the future of freelance journalism. Five years ago, I had a thick rolodex of editors I worked with regularly. Most of them have left the industry all together.

Not only have rates not improved given inflation, there are way fewer opportunities than when I started out in 2012. There are less editors to pitch. More turnover. Higher barriers to entry. Less consistent gigs. The other day, my friend called what I do “prestige work,” and I think that sums it up perfectly. It sounds good on paper, but the economic and emotional burden of it all doesn’t really make sense.

To keep up with the times, I’m looking for ways to diversify. Writing and reporting will always be my first loves, but with all the layoffs, budget cuts, and a morphing media and publishing scene given the backdrop of AI and shorter and shorter attention spans, who knows what the future will hold?

Let me know what you guys think.