Freelancers are essentially running a tiny film studio (kinda).
There’s a specific kind of chaos that only freelancers will understand.
It’s the chaos of being the designer, the project manager, the accountant, the client wrangler, the email replier, the “why is this PDF doing that” technician, the social media person, the IT department, and still somehow getting the actual work done in between.
And the strange bit is that a lot of the time we’re doing things we weren’t totally sure we could do. You read an email and think, “Right. Cool. I have no idea how I’m meant to pull that off.” And then you do. Not always elegantly, but it gets done.
The Stranger Things moment that got me thinking
I’ve been watching the Stranger Things making-of stuff on Netflix, and it weirdly hit me. Not because I suddenly want to go and battle Demogorgons, but because of how much planning goes into making something look effortless.
It’s not just “make a show.” It’s:
a plan for the plan
meetings about the plan
a version of the plan you’re not allowed to look at because it’s going to change again
cross-checking the plan with other plans
and then someone in the corner calmly going, “cool, but what if the fog machine breaks?”
The amount of spinning plates is unreal. And yet it works, because everyone is speaking the same language. There’s a shared rhythm. A system. A machine.
It made me cry, honestly. I think because I was watching this huge team do something complicated, and it still looked calm. Like there was structure holding it all up, even when it was intense.
And it’s hard not to compare that to how work can feel when you’re on your own, where you’re trying to keep things moving, keep clients happy, keep quality high, keep deadlines realistic, keep your head straight, and sometimes it’s all happening at once.
And then there’s freelance life
Freelancing is basically trying to build that level of production, but you’re also the entire crew.
You’re the director and the runner. You’re writing the script while setting up the lights. You’re doing the budget while answering a WhatsApp voice note that starts with “Sorry to be a pain but…”
And I think this is the stage of solo-preneurship (yes, I think it works. It’s a bit cringe as a word but it’s also accurate, so we move) that no one really glamorises properly. The stage where you push yourself to the edge because you can, and because you sort of have to, and because you’re still proving to yourself you can make this work.
Then you hit that point where you realise it can’t keep running on last-minute energy and good intentions. So you start pulling back a bit. You tweak things. You add guardrails. Not in a dramatic “new year new me” way, more in a quiet “I would like to keep functioning as a person” way.
The “guardrails” era (I think I’m entering it, cautiously)
Lately I’ve felt myself tipping into that next phase, where you start deciding what you actually want your business to be.
Because the question isn’t just “can I do this?” anymore. It’s more like, do I want to build something bigger, or keep it small and manageable? Do I want a team, a studio, a whole thing, or do I want something that stays calm-ish and still lets me have a life without my laptop crying in the corner like a needy friend?
Honestly, I don’t fully know yet. I just know I like what I’m building, and I like how things feel right now. It’s working. I’m proud of it. I can also see the bits I need to tighten up if I want it to stay enjoyable: better project management, better financial planning, and the big one, getting better at actually logging off at 5pm.
Which sounds simple on paper. And then 4:58pm hits and your brain goes, “quick, just do this one last thing,” and suddenly it’s dark outside and you’re replying to an email you definitely could’ve left until tomorrow. I’m trying to get better at it. Slowly. With varying success.
The truth about “doing everything”
Freelancers get a lot of that “wow, you’re so brave” energy sometimes, which is fine. But it’s not really the point.
Most of us aren’t doing this because we’re brave. We’re doing it because it’s the job, and it needs doing.
We build the plane while flying it because there isn’t another option. We figure things out because someone needs the answer by last Thursday. We become strangely competent at things we didn’t even know existed a month ago.
And I think that’s what makes freelancers kick-ass. Not that we do everything flawlessly, because we don’t, but that we do it anyway. With care, with effort, with a slightly alarming number of tabs open, and with that constant mental juggling act happening in the background.
And yeah, sometimes it’s held together only just. But it’s still held together.
So where I’m at now
I’m not trying to create some perfect “Stranger Things production team” level system where everything is always aligned and smooth and organised and calm.
Because I don’t think that’s realistic when you’re basically a one-person studio doing the work of a small department.
But I do want to get closer to a version of it, something steadier. A bit more intentional. A bit less constant full-tilt. A business that supports me, not the other way round.
More planning, more structure, more switching off, without losing the flexibility and the fun that made me do this in the first place.
And maybe that’s the whole point of this stage. Not “become perfectly balanced and organised forever,” but just slowly building something that feels sustainable. Still ambitious. Still exciting. Just slightly less chaotic.
🤖 Full disclosure: AI gave me a hand writing this. It’s still what I wanted to say, I’ve edited it heavily, but it saved me a few hours of overthinking and rewriting the same sentence 12 times. Honesty is the best policy, right!
