Open Letter to the People Who Pay Us

Dear Gallery Owners, Shopkeepers, Editors, Retreat Organizers, Workshop Hosts, Publishers, Website Owners, and Anyone Else Who Hires Freelance Artists, Writers, Musicians, Etc:

We love you. We really do! You make it possible for us to do what we love, whether that's painting or teaching or writing or playing backup bass. Thank you for that. Without you and the gigs you provide, we'd all have to go out and get another job to pay the bills.

Oh, wait! Most of us do that already, because of course it's almost impossible to make a living as a freelancer, not unless you're very, very good and work very, very hard and are really, really lucky, as in being able to find and secure the handful of jobs that pay really well. Most of us are barely scraping by.

We have talked amongst ourselves, and we have realized there are some things that maybe you don't know. If you've never done this kind of work, where you patch together two or three or half a dozen jobs into a self-made career that allows you to keep the lights turned on and put enough gas in the car to get to the grocery store, maybe you don't realize what it's like for us when it comes to getting paid.

We know, we know:  talking about money is even more taboo than talking about sex. *Everybody* talks about sex; you can eavesdrop on people talking on their cells about the most amazing varieties of adventures. But nobody talks about money, and we think that's too bad. Everyone is afraid to talk about it--afraid they'll look greedy or afraid they'll find out they're woefully underpaid or afraid that if they mention money they'll be "let go" or told that they're no longer needed or that the work they're doing isn't going to be done any more.

It's not that we want to question you and make a big fuss. You're doing what you're doing well enough to make it work, and we appreciate that. You're giving lots of people lots of really amazing opportunities. But there are some things we wish you knew and are kind of thinking maybe you don't. And *we* here refers to the freelancers who are trying to make a living at this. While we fully support those who are doing it for fun and who have an alternate source of fabulous income, like, you know, someone supporting them, *we* do not, and it's different for us. So here goes~~

~~If we are reliable and do the work you assign us and get it in on time and in the form you need, if we show up at the gallery openings and smile and help sell our work, and if we promote you and your shop/publication/retreat/website, it's fair that you would treat us accordingly when it's time to pay us for what we do. If we're on time, we deserve to be paid on time and in the form and amount agreed upon. If you already do that, thank you. And you might be surprised at how many others do not.

~~We count on payment from you to make payments to others, whether that's the pediatrician or our studio assistant or some random and very hateful bill collector named "Harold B." from Paducah. If you don't pay us, we can't pay them. If we can't pay them, we're going to have to find work that allows us to pay them. That cuts into the time we have to paint or plan workshops or write how-to articles or song lyrics. If we can't count on getting paid, we won't be able to continue doing the things you're willing to pay us to do. If we're working the night shift at Burger World, we're not going to be in the studio at the crack of dawn, working on series you hoped to hang in your gallery at the end of the year.

~~An agreement is an agreement. If you hire us to do something for $350, and we do that thing, and then you tell us you can't pay us but will allow us to pick out $350 worth of merchandise or take $350 worth of classes, that's a violation of the agreement. We counted on that $350 to pay the vet bill and to buy more paint. We can't buy paint with free classes, and the vet doesn't take payment in rubber stamps.  Here's how it works for us: we figure out what work we've been given and how much we'll be paid for that work and when we can expect that money, and we figure that into our budget. We've all had people say, "Well, you can't plan your budget around money unless it's a salary." Why not? If you're hired to do a job, you expect to get paid. You're working = you get paid. This isn't a lark for us, nor a hobby, nor something we do just for fun. Sure, we love what we do, but so does your dentist. Nobody expects him to do root canals for free just because he loves doing root canals.

~~Please don't make us ask for our money. If we do the work, please pay us without making us call you up and ask for it or send an invoice or show up at the gallery and ask for a check. Please don't reduce us to having to explain that our rent is overdue. It makes us feel like children asking for an allowance. We're pretty sure you don't have to ask your boss to pay you every month. We're guessing a check shows up on your desk or a deposit appears in your account, regular as clockwork. If you value what we do for you, paying us without our having to ask is a most excellent way of demonstrating that. It will make us happy, and we will respect and appreciate you even more.

~~When we *do* have to ask, please do not make us feel like we're out of line, or as if we're imposing on you. Please don't make us feel as if we're trying to take something that belongs to you. We're not. We want you to prosper. But if you hired us and we did the work, that money belongs to us; we're not trying to take anything that's yours.

~~We understand that money is often tight, and that things happen, and that sometimes you'd like to hang onto that little bit of money as long as possible before you write that check. Please don't. Most of us have waited quite a while already. We did the work months ago. The gallery show has been down for six weeks. We taught those workshops for you last quarter. We know you pay on publication, rather than on acceptance. Whatever it is, we've waited patiently all this time, but now we really, really need to get paid. We don't want to have to nag and get pushy, but the fact is that we're pretty sure you need that $350 a lot less than we do. Hardly anyone is going to make a big fuss about that $350 because, if we kick up a fuss, we probably won't get to work for you again. But if we don't keep pushing, we won't get the money. And if we don't get the money, the vet/mechanic/doctor/utility company isn't going to give us a pass.

What we're asking is that you see if from our point of view. If you've always worked on salary, it's hard to understand the lives of people who don't. If you're a tenured professor, you maybe don't have a lot of sympathy for the adjuncts: maybe you tend to think of them as slackers, as people who don't want to work full time and so don't deserve to whine about not getting their checks until the end of the semester. In truth, many adjuncts are adjuncts because they have one or two or five other jobs they love and don't want to give up. That doesn't mean they don't work hard at teaching or that they don't need the money; it could very well mean they're also working hard at other things, and that they need the money maybe even more that you do, as a full-time instructor. There are all kinds of people, both full- and part-time, who are slackers and are lazy and are under-performers. There are also all kinds of people who work really, really hard, and many of them are free-lancers and part-time workers who depend on the money you pay them just as you depend on the money you're paid. We're all in this together, trying to do the amazing things we do together and make life richer for our customers and collectors, clients and buyers, readers and listeners. With your help and understanding, we can spend less time worrying about when--and if--the checks are going to arrive and more time thinking of creative ways to amaze you with what we do for a living.

Sincerely,
 Creative Freelancers Everywhere