My So-Called Freelance Life - Michelle Goodman [48]
Steer clear of the nickel-and-dime game too. There’s looking out for your bank account, and then there’s chintzy. I still laugh about the client who countered my proposed rate of $1.50 a word with “How about $1.45 a word?” Since we were talking about a one-time 2,000-word article, he was essentially trying to talk me down from a price of $3,000 to $2,900. If he really couldn’t afford the $3,000, I suspect he would have countered with something significantly lower, like $2,500 or $2,000. If you propose a price of $3,000 and your client counters with an offer of $2,800, I’d seal the deal (remember, your bottom line is really $2,500) rather than return with “How about $2,900?”
As nerve-racking as it might seem, I suggest you negotiate by phone or webcam whenever possible. Email, IM, a nd text messages leave too m uch room for misinterpretation. Besides, people have a tougher time playing the hardass when they’re talking to you face-to-face or by phone.
Before you agree to a job that’s below your bottom line, remember that the price you accept now will affect all future negotiations with the client. It’s much easier to negotiate up to the $85 hourly rate you’d wanted from $80/hour than from $70/hour. If you’re not sure you can live with the client’s final offer, there’s nothing wrong with saying you’ll get them an answer in the morning. For this reason, I love late afternoon negotiations.
If come sunrise the deal isn’t sitting well with you, you have my permission to lace up your walking shoes. Like I said in Chapter 8, twenty hours spent on a gig you don’t feel good about is twenty hours you could have spent looking for or working on a better project. If, however, like a tiger (of the nonkilling variety), you’re ready to pounce on the client’s offer, your next step is to get the agreement in writing—conveniently the topic of the next chapter.
Chapter 12
Get It in Writing
(but Don’t Sign Blindly)
How to make sure your contracts don’t suck
“A verbal agreement isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”
—Louis B. Mayer
A million years ago, I did a freelance writing job for a quasi-notorious self-help guru who shall remain nameless. I agreed to adapt a book she’d published into a script for an audiotape she wanted to record and sell (this was back in the Stone Age, before CDs). We didn’t sign a contract. Instead, we agreed—on a handshake—to a price, a rough outline for the script, and when I’d get paid.
I thought I was pretty clever, asking for half my fee up front and half upon delivery of the completed project. Only I neglected to specify an appalling amount of crucial details, chief among them how many revisions I’d allow, what exactly constituted a “revision,” and a project end date (in this case, it was the client who needed a deadline).
I’m sure you can see where this is going: Demanding client couldn’t make up her mind about what she wanted the script to say and called for umpteen revisions, several of which could have been more aptly described as out-and-out fresh starts. Hapless freelancer stuck out the project for weeks after she’d anticipated finishing because she (a) had a misguided, almost psychotic need to please her client and (b) couldn’t recoup the rest of her fee until the project was “complete” (whatever that meant).
I can’t remember which one of us walked off the project first, or whether I ever recouped the second half of my fee. But I’m pretty sure I wound up making .04 cents an hour on that gig.
Without a crystal clear contract, you could find yourself in a similar time-sucking, money-losing situation. Even if your client comes highly recommended (my quasi-notorious self-help guru did), it’s critical that you put every possible contingency of the project in writing. Because when things don’t go according to plan—and if there’s one constant in the freelance world, it’s that things don’t always go as planned—you’ll want a signed piece of paper that proves what you promised to do, what you’ll get in return, and