The words “freelancer,” “solopreneur,” and “remote work” can conjure images of people sprawled on couches and beds. Clad in their pajamas, they’re busy at work on laptops and mobile devices. It’s three in the afternoon.
Most freelancers and entrepreneurs I know don’t operate that way. They are not to be found in pajamas at three in the afternoon. They sometimes work from the couch, typically for a change of scenery. One can only do so much work from the table or desk before needing to get away from it.
At least, I find that to be the case. It somewhat explains the several workspaces littered throughout my house, as well as a coworking space. The latter gives me a break from the monotony of home. It also provides some necessary human contact, which is easy to lose sight of when working, working, working.
My workspaces and approach don’t come exclusively from the work life. They’re grounded in a history from the much more distant past. A somewhat precise date: some time in the nineties.
My brothers and I were being homeschooled. Then, as now, pajamas were not to be found. No, not allowed. Pajamas were not allowed. Neither was working from the couch, but that’s neither here nor there. Most days, we were finished with schoolwork and any possible homework long before three in the afternoon. We were free to run around outside or, more likely of me, to play story or read a book in my room.
That time period, plus a few others—a freelancing stint a few years ago, remote work with Tenacity5 Media, going into business as Write Right this fall—have made me think about this work life. Why do I not work in my pajamas? What’s to be gained from it?
These eleven things may illuminate the way:
- Details matter. In my homeschooling years, it wasn’t enough to be wearing regular clothes to school, i.e., the community table and desks. Oh, no. The teeth had to be brushed; the hair had to be combed. We had to be presentable. That thought process follows me into work. I have to be presentable even if I’m only on the phone. The client may never know I took the time to brush my teeth and comb my hair, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m entirely presentable. I honor my clients by brushing teeth, combing hair, and, yes, wearing suitable attire.
- Little things add up. This point builds on the previous one. The little details build the bigger picture. If I can get the details right, the picture comes into focus not only easier but also better. I have a clearer sense of where the gaps are. I can develop a strategy that fills them.
- Do things right the first time. Or, pursue excellence at all times and with all things. If I do things right the first time, I don’t get sent to my room. I complete work on time. I surpass expectations. Those aren’t the real reasons I do things right the first time; I do them that way because excellent work is what’s required of a daughter and servant of the King.
- Be on time. I grew up with “on time” meaning fifteen minutes early. I do my best to live by that philosophy today—Austin traffic notwithstanding. The extra time lets me do a final prep or take a few deep breaths before giving a presentation.
- Meet deadlines. Work has to be turned in before or on the deadline. The end. Plus, the work I do doesn’t occur in isolation. It’s connected to other pieces. If it’s late to the party, things fall apart. It might be covered up, but the ensuing panic and late arrival won’t be forgotten.
- Know my limits. Meeting deadlines teaches me how much time it takes to complete a project without burning out. Once I know those limits, I’m free to work within them. I know how to best arrange time and workflow.
- Set expectations. Everyone should know what’s going on at all times. It’s a reason I send weekly status reports. More importantly, setting expectations at the outset establishes a certain tone and rhythm. It sets me up as a knowledgeable, trustworthy figure.
- Don’t give excuses. Make apologies, not excuses. I am responsible for my work. If it’s late, even if it’s due to circumstances outside my control, I don’t give excuses. I apologize. I’m upfront if I’m going to miss a deadline.
- Discipline in all things. As with the details, discipline in small things leads to discipline in larger ones. Perhaps I have an unfair advantage; being a Type 1 diabetic means discipline. I learned the lesson as a kid. Discipline is as much a part of me as creativity is. It gets me out of bed to work out when it’s cold outside. It keeps me dedicated to the work when all I want to do is hide under the covers or go play.
- Manage the day. “Manage the day, or the day will manage you.” I manage my days with task lists. They typically have items outlined for the week ahead as well as the day of. They are a direct result of the discipline learned as a kid and practiced as an adult.
- Make time to play. Breaks are important. I know I write best in the morning. I also know to let writing rest for several hours before editing it. My inclination is to not play, but I resist the temptation. I know how horrible its effects can be. I set aside time to play, even if it’s the smallest of small things like wandering down to the post office box and back.
Some freelancers and entrepreneurs can do great work while in their pajamas. I’m not part of that crowd. I belong to one that requires order. It’s how I do good work, and that’s a good enough reason for me to brush my teeth, comb my hair, and get dressed for the day every day.
Image: Sebastiaan ter Burg (Creative Commons)