366 days self-employed

November 1. 2024.
By: Andrea Havre

(Damn leap year ruining my smooth “365 days”-title)

On day 56, I found myself contemplating every single decision I had made since kindergarten. On day 78, I wondered if there was a way to just avoid social media or any marketing altogether. By day 95, I questioned what the hell I had gotten myself into.

Yep, the first of november 2023 I slept for as long as I needed, knowing there was no boss, no colleagues—and no work waiting for me. It was a joyous day.

Fifteen days later I ate my late brekkie/late lunch on the couch at 1:30 p.m., in my pjs, watching Major Crimes for the third time (obviously stopping before the last episodes every time). Life was sweeter than sugary pastries topped with syrup. It was the honeymoon phase. It was good. I loved not having to leave my apartment during winter's brutal dark mornings and enjoyed taking a run outside, instead of spending the precious last seconds of daylight stuck in traffic. And it actually stayed that way for a long time, until the first thrill of love faded, the things I loved about my new life felt ordinary, and my first real encounters with taxes and terms and conditions arose.

((Obviously, the numbers of the days are made up, because I might be crazy enough to quit my job with no buffer account, but I’m not crazy enough to write down everything I do every day). (That’s a lie—it’s actually what I do in my “five years from now” notebook. BUT I’m not crazy enough to count the days to figure out when I had the first, second, and fiftieth breakdown.) (Now I kinda want to, but I won’t.))

I originally wanted to take you through my year, but to be honest, I don’t remember any huge moments, and if I start digging, I’ll probably end up remembering every. damn. thing. And first, I don’t know if I want to remember everything, and second, I don’t think you’ll want to read it all. However, I have learned a thing or two, and while it doesn’t always feel like it, I have grown into a slightly smarter businesswoman who knows herself a little more after a whole year with the weirdest boss there is. (I wanted to say “nicest”; I really did, but that would be a lie. She makes me work a lot, she does.)

Alrighty, let’s go.

Lesson one: Everyone and their mother-in-law will try to give you advice. This includes everyone you’ve ever spoken to in real life, people you’ve never met but who happen to have known your grandfather thirty years ago, and everyone who has ever liked your online posts. Most people mean well and genuinely want you to succeed (though not all of them know how to give advice nicely). But each piece of advice can’t have the same priority, and most of it probably won’t be relevant or useful to you. And by 'you,' I mean me— and especially when the advice involves money. (No, Karen, I won’t start saving for a pension ASAP because I don’t want to live on the street while doing so). In other words, decide who you trust, take all advice with a handful of salt, and trust yourself; you probably know more than your third cousin’s grand-aunt anyway.

Lesson two: The freedom is the most amazing thing ever—until you realize you’ve spent eight hours on LinkedIn, five hours checking your ever-so-empty inbox, and 40 minutes actually working. Learn to time-block, write lists, use the alarm or some kind of app on your very smart phone, ask your grandma to call you every hour—make some kind of routine or rules if you want (I don’t), to make yourself more effective (or effective at all). And make time for other stuff too, like reading, running, cooking, climbing, sailing, drinking—whatever you enjoy that takes your mind off the crippling thought of making money. (If you choose drinking, I prefer iced tea or sparkling water with lemon).

Lesson three: For every second you spend considering, planning, strategising, wondering, contemplating, stressing, ripping your hair out, or having weird conversations with yourself in the bathroom mirror, you could be doing more of what you should be doing. For me, that’s writing; for you, it’s whatever makes you better at what you’re selling. It’s like training—there’s no way around it; you have to do it a lot to get better. Actually, this lesson has two “parts,” but I couldn’t make it two separate lessons because it really is the same thing.

As a marketer, I spent (and still spend) so much time figuring out the best way to market my business, but the fact is that probably seventy percent of that time could have been spent writing. That means my portfolio could have been a lot larger and better AND I would have become an even better writer.

The other part is that all that time spent thinking about how to best market myself and finding the perfect strategy—it made me sick of everything and I kinda forgot why I wanted to work like this. And actually, there’s a third part (let’s have a loose definition of “parts” here, okay?)—these things change as you go on. The strategy I spent so many hours thinking about in the first month or two did a nice 180 turn-around a few months later, because I changed my services, and the strategy went straight phew out the window because it didn’t fit the goal anymore.

Lesson four: Nobody gives a damn if you change your services, plans, goals, social media strategy, or even your t-shirt (last one should be done every now and then, though). This might be another marketer’s problem, but when you are at the starting line of your business—meaning when you don’t have millions of followers on your socials or waitlists longer than Cinderella’s hair, or any employees working for you—you CAN change your mind. It’s not the end of the world. You don’t have to tell everyone or even anyone. Obviously, it’s not smart to change your plan seven times a week, but if you feel yourself going in the wrong direction, turn around. Nobody really cares, and even if they did: it’s your business and your life.

Oh, the hours I spent thinking about writing this; I didn’t know what to write, because I felt like I was absolutely no further today than a year ago. Now, I think we can agree that I’ve made one whole step forward, or what??

And I might or might not also have some plans and dreams that differ from what I wanted last November—but the biggest dream of all is still as present as ever. I always wanted to work for myself, to be able to do things differently, to live a life that suits me (and that damn fibromyalgia) while doing what I love to do: putting words into sentences for others to read. And if I’ve already made it 366 days sitting in my couch corner (rather than my cute home office), drinking huge amounts of caffeine, and chatting with ChatGPT about everything and nothing—I can’t wait for the next 366 days.