Why we need to talk about freelance rates (or should we just let sleeping dogs lie?)

Rates are a hot topic of discussion on the small WhatsApp group of freelancers I belong to. Flat rates, hourly rates, day rates... they’re all a big part of a freelancer’s life, from setting them to negotiating them to accepting (or rejecting) them – and, occasionally, despairing of them. The group’s made up of editors, authors or designers working in Children’s Publishing, some with years of experience on the freelance rollercoaster, others only just taking their first hair-raising rides. But one thing we all agree on is that rates are sometimes (though, I hasten to add, not always) disappointingly low. I’d add to that they’re also inconsistent and almost impossible to second-guess.

Most of the work I do is on a flat rate proposed by the publisher, and I can easily be offered less to write a long text-heavy book than I am for a much shorter highly illustrated one. Any negotiation of flat fees is accompanied by much hand-wringing and head-spinning as I try to work out how long the project will take me and whether the rate works out proportionately on an hourly or day rate basis (more on that particular quandary later). Should I just take the offered fee without discussion? I wonder. Will I lose the project and all hope of further commissions from that particular publisher if I don’t? And if I do negotiate, how high can I risk going? Commissioning editors will talk about bottom lines, tight budgets and low margins – and I believe them because I’ve been in their shoes as an in-house editor myself. But I also know that bumping up my fee a bit probably won’t affect the P&L all that much. This knowledge doesn't, of course, take away the nail-biting fear of sending that hesitantly questioning email.

Then there’s the whole other horror of being asked to suggest your own fee. That new client who contacts you with the promise of upcoming projects and asks what your hourly or day rate is. Obviously I have more than one: my dream one, my actual one, and the one I think they might agree is reasonable. I can agonise over which one to propose for hours, days even. When I know from my fellow freelancers that some publishers are still offering rates not far removed from what I myself paid freelancers in my first in-house jobs in the 1990s, it can be a nerve-wracking process. Yes, I know it might be a slightly higher rate than you’d expect, I want to say, but you’re not just paying for my actual time, you’re paying for my experience. I’ve been doing this for over 25 years, so why wouldn’t I expect my rate to rise and reflect not only the increased cost-of-living, but also the backlist and reputation that probably caused a company to approach me in the first place?

Everyone on my WhatsApp group agrees that something needs to change, that we all need to stand our ground when we’re offered unreasonably low rates. But will we? Whilst Children’s Publishing is a generally and genuinely friendly, supportive industry, it’s also a small one. And people move around it a lot. The editor who you might worry about offending with a fee negotiation at one publisher may soon be working at a different one, and no freelancer wants to burn too many bridges (even writing this blog has made me just a little bit nervous...) Meanwhile, freelancers are all chasing work at the same few companies, so whilst general conversations on rates are up for grabs, nobody wants to get too specific. As one fellow freelancer pointed out, we all have bills to pay.

So aside from forming a union to fight our corner as one of my WhatsAppers suggested, what’s the answer? A mass agreement between all freelancers to refuse poor rates when we're offered them, thus pushing them up for everyone is probably unlikely; it’s a free market and in the end publishers will pay only as much as they have to – and freelancers will accept what they feel comfortable with, or are at least resigned to. But I’m not sure that means we shouldn’t all politely try to negotiate a more appropriate rate when it's truly deserved.

As much as I dread negotiating, agreeing or proposing a flat fee, hourly rate or day rate, I try to see all of my projects as a whole and take a win some, lose some approach; the fee for a flat-rate project that took less time than I’d anticipated acting as a buffer for the agreed two days of work that actually took closer to two and a half. I don’t know if it really does even out like that, but it helps me to keep some perspective when it’s time to send those invoices. And don’t even get me started on the discussions freelancers have about getting those paid…