I hit ‘send’ on a job application, and the wait begins.
Applying for an actual job with an actual job description based in an actual building away from my house is not something I’ve done often in my working life. I mostly work freelance in a range of creative roles and industries, the nature of which is non-linear and fairly confusing for tax accountants and mortgage brokers.
I’ve learnt to embrace the hustle and perpetual pitch of freelancing, and I do love the freedom and flexibility this way of working offers. But lately it’s been taking a bit of a toll.
Sporadic work. Uneven cash flow. Bloody AI!
Sometimes I get tired of the whole game and think about quitting.
What would it feel like not to be constantly searching for stories, not to be putting that pressure on myself, not to have to endlessly hustle?
What would it feel like to go and get some other kid of job? It’s been a long while since I had a permanent position.
I let myself imagine waking up and going to an external workplace, rather than shuffling down the hall to the study at the far end of my house. I could dress up. I could wear make up. I would definitely be required to brush my hair and teeth.
I could have a job description to fulfil, and tasks to complete, and KPIs to meet, and meetings to attend, and a staff room with a sink full of dirty mugs to moan about. I could help to grow someone else’s business, I could be part of a team, I could contribute something meaningful to the world beyond “telling stories”.
Eight reasons to quit:
It’s hard.
It’s tiring.
I never know how much I’m going to earn.
I’m always asking permission.
Sometimes they say ‘no’.
AI is taking over the creative galaxy.
I feel like I shouldn’t have to keep proving myself.
There’s a lot more I want to do.
Surely choosing to stop doing something isn’t always a bad thing. One door closing means another opening, after all.
I have left some things behind that I’ve been surprised to find I don’t miss — filmmaking is one of them. Leaving that world was hard at the time and I wasn’t sure of my decision, but my lingering regret quickly reformed into a newfound sense of freedom from a burden I didn’t quite realise I’d been carrying. Beyond film I found radio and new arenas for writing, and I started hearing ‘yes’ more often. Endings are beginnings; letting go means embracing something new.
Getting older means having the space to look back, and it’s only with hindsight that I can see the path my working life has taken, and the numerous twists, turns, dead ends and unexpected opportunities that have unfurled like branches on an ever-expanding tree.
A recent invitation from an elite private school, nestled in the forest beauty of Mt Macedon/Geboor, to take part in a careers event and speak to kids about work was unexpected. I pictured myself among the lawyers, engineers, allied health workers, and other normal, professional people the organisers had surely asked to be involved. What could I offer that would be useful, let alone aspirational?
I said yes because I imagined myself at that age, and what advice I would give myself if I could go back. I set up my stall and held my breath, not sure if anyone would want to hear from me. The ones that did were bright and eager, with open minds ready to meet the big wide world.
My biggest tips for these up-and-comers were:
As a creative professional you really only spend half your time doing the creative stuff, while the rest of your time is spent on pitching, hustling, marketing, ups killing and admin.
The more strings to your bow, the better — being multi-skilled means you can switch hats when the need arises, and say yes to more opportunities.
If you want to do something, just start doing it — don’t wait for permission, or to get into that course, or for someone to hire you. Building a portfolio of stuff you’ve made is everything.
The event was a bit of a cathartic experience for me, giving me a reason to take stock. In a room full of solid demonstrations of other, more tangible job paths (and in an exclusive private school setting), I didn’t expect to have many students say they wanted a career like mine.
But there were two in particular who asked thoughtful questions, and whose eyes lit up when I made some suggestions about what’s possible. It was worth it to think that perhaps I’ve helped spark something in them that might help them on their way.
And the job I applied for? I didn’t even get an interview.
So I decided to shrug off the self-doubt I’ve been drenched in, got up the next day and kept at it.
And then I had an idea.
I relate to so much of this. The freelancing creative life is so challenging, not just financially but spiritually. But what capable, resilient people we realise are when we stop asking and waiting for permission. I left office life in January and I miss a few things about it: the regular pay check, the feeling of being part of a team, the galvanising routine to get out of the house a few days a week. But the work was killing my spirit. Good luck with the job hunt. I know you will find the right thing!