My So-Called Freelance Life - Michelle Goodman [11]
When you’re just starting out as a full-time freelancer, you may not have the luxury of abundant real estate. You may have to work in a corner of your bedroom or a sliver of your living room, as I did for many years before graduating to spare-bedroom-office status. But I like to think that if J. K. Rowling could crank out Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in a café back in her bad old welfare mom days, freelancers like you and me can tough it out a few feet from our respective couches and TVs.
Even if you don’t have an office door, you still have IKEA, Target, and countless other purveyors of beaded curtains, folding screens, and brightly colored tapestries to choose from to help separate your workspace from your off-duty space. Unless you enjoy enhanced levels of stress and feeling as though you’re tethered to your laptop from dawn to dusk to dawn again, even the flimsiest of barriers will come in handy.
You also have the ability to request that any roommates, partners, children, or other family members knock or ask permission before entering your workspace, especially when you’re in it.
“I live with my boyfriend now and it kind of was a transition,” says writer Meghan Daum. “He didn’t quite understand that my desk, which happens to be in a semi-common area of the house, is like his desk at work. I would never show up at his office and sit down in his chair. But he has no problem doing that in my chair.”
The solution? Open your mouth and use it. For more about laying down the law with friends and family, see Chapter 17.
If, after six months of working alongside the wool coats and umbrellas in your hallway closet, you find yourself sketched out by your snowballing lack of hygiene, uncannily intimate friendship with your mail carrier, or encyclopedic knowledge of the guests on The Maury Show, you should probably consider finding yourself a workspace outside the home. (If, however, your main problem is not solitude but beating your schedule into submission, see Chapter 17.) No one would blame you; even the most reclusive freelancers get a little loopy working by their lonesome week after week.
Sometimes it’s not the isolation that gets you, though, but the company. Nikki’s initial incentive for renting an office was her crowded living space. “I had been living in this two-room apartment with my then boyfriend and he also made art and was self-employed,” she says. “So it was like, ‘Who’s going to use the table?’” Hmmm—morning coin toss with your significant other over the only viable workspace in the joint. Any takers?
Your Home Office Away from Home
If you’ve outgrown your home office, your first thought might be to claim a space at that cute little fair trade café on the corner. However, I suggest you fight the urge to turn your neighborhood roastery into the permanent headquarters of You, Inc. Yes, your favorite coffee shop makes for a lovely three o’clock change-of-scenery break, but if you camp out there Monday through Friday, winter, spring, summer, and fall, you’re bound to spend a bundle on java and baked goods you normally wouldn’t consume in bulk. For the same price (or pretty darned close to it), you could rent a workspace and avoid annoying your fellow caffeine patrons with your steady stream of incoming cell calls.
In fact, you don’t even have to rent your own office. Nor do you have to commit to renting a workspace for more than one measly day (definitely music to this commitmentphobe’s ears). Coworking—renting a daily or monthly desk in a communal office of independent professionals—is well on its way to becoming the Flexcar of office setups. As I write this, independent professionals around the globe are creating and flocking to these community offices like middle managers to free donuts in the company breakroom. (See the sidebar on page 30 for more details.)
Besides being cheaper than a studio rental for one, coworking saves you from having to paint, furnish, and otherwise pimp out your workspace. In many cases, the price