The Gig Life

As some of you may know, but I suspect most do not, I began my writing career as a ghostwriter. It is a job well-suited to the verbose, where contracts often demand far more words than necessary at far less money than your time and creative energy are worth.

For clients, who build a backlist from often several different ghostwriters, their primary source of payout is single read-throughs through platforms like Kindle Unlimited, gathering fractions of pennies as their readers turn pages. The product doesn’t have to be good enough for repeat customers. It’s a cynical capitalist view of creation. One which stamps the heart right out of you if you stay too long.

Even working on brands and political campaigns, everyone wants more words, at less pay. That’s just the way the gig works. Research, outlines, background information, consults, messaging dial-ins— The work is much more than the three-word slogan at the top of a spiffy webpage, or ads, or the book with the gorgeous cover that gleams at you from the shelf of your favorite bookstore.

A renovator on HGTV (yes, I do and I’m not sorry) once said something that’s stuck with me in my own work. “Nobody wants to pay for framing and insulation.” A writer creates the framework for a successful story, business venture, or ad campaign, that largely goes unnoticed in the finished book, page, or product if it’s done well.

But it’s worthy work. The challenge makes the hard days worth the effort. The rare, “I’m truly sorry we couldn’t use this” makes the rejections hurt less. For every client who says “I didn’t actually want to pay this much,” there’s one who says they’re thrilled to look at their brand-new business page and know that’s what people will see of them first.

Gig life means wondering when you’ll need government aid next, working three jobs to survive, and giving your time and talent away for free far too often.

Mostly, it means community anymore. The same $20 getting passed around all month, the work trades that lead you to amazing new skills, and someone to talk to when the bill comes due and the client bounces. It’s a hard life. It’s harder than it should be, quite frankly. But I won’t change my course. At the end of the day, “it takes a village” applies to far more than raising children, and gig workers acknowledge that every day.

Always, if I find someone looking to start this path for themselves, I’m happy to share what I know. The faster you get past the learning portion of the program, the sooner you can choose which three career paths you’ll embark on simultaneously.

Just know, the work has been worth it, every minute of every day of the last decade. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll only have one job.

Liz