Freelance Writer and Social Worker

5 Excuses Writers Can Use to Turn Down Problem Assignments (Or, You Want Me To Write WHAT?)

It's really, really hard to turn down gigs in this economy, but sometimes it's the only way to keep your sanity and your self-respect intact. In the last year, for instance, I've refused to edit a business letter that was filled with profanity, racial slurs, and thinly veiled threats of violence. I also declined the once-in-a-lifetime chance to work on a homophobic rant that would have made Fred Phelps look tolerant, as well as the chance to ghost write a book for a pedophile about how to groom victims. Finally, I ditched a client who was increasing my blood pressure but not my bank account.

Of course, they weren't all that bad. Sometimes I didn't take a job because I knew less than nothing about the topic, and the pay being offered didn't inspire me to learn. Other times the client was rude and demanding during our first contact, and I figured that if I took him or her own as a client, things would only get worse.

So, once you've decided you're not going to work with a client, how do you communicate the decision to him or to her? Depending on the situation, I use five all-purpose excuses.

1. "I'm booked for the foreseeable future."

This is the one I use on clients whom I find mildly annoying, but whom I might be willing to work with at some point. I usually follow up the "I'm booked" message by adding, I know you'll find another great writer, but if my schedule clears, I can send you an email and see if you're still interested in my services." In other words, I leave the door about half open.

2. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about..."

I usually save this one for projects that just don't interest me, especially the ones that do not pay well. Again, I leave a foot in the door by saying something like, "I'd love to hear from you again if you have work in the areas of..."

10 Commandments of Freelance Writing

Those of you who know me know that I'm not in the least religious. I didn't get the following Ten Commandments from Moses. I didn't even hike up some mountain trail and get them from God.

Instead, they represent a consensus of me and my writing friends about the laws that should govern our chosen profession.

If we've missed anything obvious, feel free to add your own. Where this list is concerned, there's nothing magical about the number ten.

So, here we go:

1. Thou shalt not plagiarize. Never, ever, ever, ever take another writer's work and pass it off as your own. Just don't do it. I don't really believe in hell, but if it exists, I picture it as a really big after school detention room where students are forced to write endlessly on chalkboards, "It is wrong to steal the works of other writers."

2. Thou shalt not miss deadlines...without a damn good reason. Good reasons can include illness, personal crises like a death in the family, and major issues like a flooded house that must be dealt with ASAP. Sorry, a bad hair day just doesn't cut it.

3. Thou shalt not flame editors or clients, even if they really, really deserve it. If you've gotten critiques that make no sense or requests for edits that would weaken the entire piece, you know what I mean. There's certainly no law that says you can't disagree politely and explain your reasoning. But if your email starts out, "Dear Stupid, Moronic, Illiterate SOB," it's probably better not to hit the send button.

Being Flexible Can Help Your Writing Career Soar

There's an old joke dating back to pre-World War II days that sill makes its rounds in the military. One night, a young captain who had just taken charge of his first ship was alerted by his crew that they were on a collision course with another vessel.

The captain rushed up to the bridge and, sure enough, he could see a light that appeared to be getting closer.

He hailed the other ship, telling them to change their course.

The reply came back quickly: "You change course."

Annoyed, the young captain tapped out another message. "Advise you to change course immediately."

A moment later, he got his answer: "Advise you to change course immediately."

Now really angry, the captain pounded out, "I am a battleship!"

"I am a lighthouse."

The captain changed his course.

Like the young captain in the story, we may become so focused on one path that we don't recognize the times when the smartest move is simply to change course.

It doesn't help that this culture makes it difficult for people to admit a change of mind or heart. Look at how politicians are mocked for "flip flopping" or being "wishy washy" if they deviate so much as one word from a previously stated position.

These kinds of messages make it easy to forget that flexibility is actually a desirable characteristic. It's adaptive to allow new information to influence our choices. It's when we aren't open to new ideas or perspectives that we...well, tend to run into lighthouses.

Dealing with a Hard-to-Please Client

I get along great with 99% of my clients. Most of the time, they never even request revisions, and if they do want changes, those changes are minor. And then there is the other one percent of clients. You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones who aren't happy, no matter what you do. The ones who request rewrite after rewrite, often providing only vague or even contradictory instructions.

These are often people who have no idea what they want, or who know exactly what they want but cannot articulate it. For instance, I recently took on an assignment for a client who, after reviewing each draft, emailed me instructions to "make it sound better." I tweaked the words every way I knew how. I even consulted a thesaurus and a dictionary, but I could not seem to hit on the combination the client wanted.

What next? I've found a few techniques that sometimes help.

"I Can't Afford That!" What To Do if Your Client Says Your Rates are Too High

The first time someone told me that my rates were too high, I panicked. I had thought my rates were quite reasonable. They were certainly commensurate with the rates other freelancers in the area.

Years of subconscious messages about the way "good girls" should relate to business and money kicked in. I felt embarrassed...no, worse than that, I felt ashamed. As if I were a fraud who had been caught doing something deceitful.

Long story short: I reduced my prices to what the client wanted, the client hired me and was thrilled with my work, and I worked my butt off for about thirteen cents an hour. It was not a good resolution, at least not for me.

When to Stand Up for Your Work

"I'm sorry," my client said. "I love this piece personally, but I'm afraid it's just too edgy for my website. You'll have to tone it down."

I groaned under my breath. I'd known even as I was writing the piece that I was pushing the envelope, but I thought I'd come down safely on the side of the reader's comfort level. In fact, I thought "toning it down" would be an insult to the reader's intelligence.

Although normally I stand by the philosophy that the client is always right, this time I explained to my client why I believed that the particular piece I had written needed an edgy tone. I reminded my client of other articles he'd published that weren't 100% PC.

Still, he dragged his feet.

"Look," I said finally, "I realize that you're the editor and that in the end it's your decision. But can we try this, please? Post the article as-is for a week. Just one week. At the end of that time, if the feedback is bad, I'll re-write it."

My client sighed. "Okay," he said, probably more to get me off the phone than for any other reason. "We'll try it your way. But one negative comment..."

"I understand."

So, the article stayed up for a week. In that time, it garnered two comments. One was spam, and the other was something along the lines of, "Cool, that was funny."

Five Clients from Hell...and How to Handle Them

I've been freelancing for more than ten years, and overall, I would say I've been very lucky. Most of my clients are wonderful people and very easy to work with. Every so often, however, it happens. I get a whiff of brimstone and...flash! The client from hell appears.

Of course, I don't know it's the client from hell until we're well into the project. Then the horns pop out and the you-know-what hits the fan. So far, I've identified five distinct species of clients from hell. I'm sure if you're a freelancer, you probably have your own list. Here is mine: