Why I couldn't give a f*ck about "typical freelance pay rates"

And why you shouldn't either

A few weeks ago, a very lovely woman approached me about running a 2-hour session at a festival she is organising, in which I would be talking for about an hour then moderating a Q&A. “What would your fee be, for this?” she wondered.

Now, even on a topic for which I can draw on significant experience and expertise, I take the research and prep seriously, and spend a decent amount of time on it. I quoted my regular corporate speaking fee, and as she is very much not a big corporation, offered it for half the cost. That was still about three times what she was thinking of paying, she said - and she quoted a sum from some handbook on freelance writer’s fees. We politely agreed it that it didn’t seem to work from either side and wished each other well.

But my mind kept meandering towards that guide to fees she had mentioned. It had bugged me. Like really bugged me. But it wasn’t because I thought the person was being unreasonable in quoting it - she’s not sitting on a huge budget and trying to pay as little as she can get away with, like some companies do. The thing that got to me was how, for years, I thought that if that’s what standard rates were, then that was what I got paid.

Because here is truth number 1…

1. You can get paid £50 an hour or £500 an hour with the exact same skill set.

Now, as a fledgling journalist 20 years ago, I wouldn’t have believed this. I was just about earning enough to pay my bills, but had to work all the time, or else struggle to support London life. I was also being told that what I was being paid was standard, the implication being ‘suck it up or go work in finance’.

Then came the moment that all changed. I had been freelancing for the World Health Organization in Geneva, quoting my usual rate, and no-one there thought to tell me they tended to pay writers more. Until a friend saw what I was quoting for a job where I’d be flying to a health conference to write a big report, and he called me up. “Double it,” he said. Holding my breath, I quoted my new rate and without blinking, the person in charge replied “Fine”.

Now that gave me insight into the fact that you can get paid very differently for the exact same skills in different organisations. I was still the same person, and if my friend hadn’t given me the confidence to charge more, I never would have.

The lesson I learned here is that increasing my rate had to come from me - no-one was ever going to offer the top of their budget. And if you don’t ask, you don’t get.

And that example of £50 vs £500 isn’t just a clickbaity header - in the past 3 months, I have been paid £50 an hour for editing work. I have also been paid £2000 to give a talk at a corporation that took me 3 hours to write and 1 hour to deliver, making it £500 an hour. The skills I was using aren’t radically different and it’s still the same old me doing the work.

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2. Rates are never set in stone, no matter what people say

On Facebook pages and in whatsapp groups, journalists trade the current rates of different publications with each other, everyone balancing financial compensation with non-monetary goals like getting a byline in a certain publication or having an editor who is great to work with.

And I had always believed that if a publication said that they had one rate for all writers, that that was the truth. Until the time that I managed to secure a higher rate at a magazine that had insisted their rates were set, but now, because I had access to an organisation where they wanted the inside scoop, they magically found more money.

The same this happened just recently with another journal I used to be a regular writer for about 15 years ago. They have barely increased their rates, and when the editor contacted me this month to ask if I would write for them again, I asked whether the rates had changed. She replied that they hadn’t, and I had said that while I’d love to write for her, my cost of living was significantly higher so this wouldn’t work for me. Again, magically, she raised the rate by 20%. Still not to what it should be, but enough to make it worth it.

3. There’s often zero difference between people who charge a fortune and those who charge a pittance

This may be the most lifechanging lesson I’ve had. Too often we assume that freelancers who style themselves as ‘consultants’ and who charge big bucks for anything they work on are either better skilled, better trained or have some magic sauce that means they can charge more.

I’ve worked alongside some of the sharpest thinkers and strategists who charge very little and work on technical publications, where they will never earn very much. I’ve also worked with consultants from the world’s biggest consultancy firms who get paid thousands a day. There is no difference between them other than the ones who get paid a lot make their clients believe they are worth it. They sell themselves as a precious commodity and are treated as such.

Now of course, money is not everything. What you sacrifice in earnings may give you a joyous work-life balance, or incredible freelance colleagues you wouldn’t want to trade.

But if you are stuck charging rates that have barely changed for decades, know that the difference in what you can charge is entirely about the confidence you project and what you believe you can aim for. Don’t let a booklet some random person put together on ‘standard rates’ put you off.

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