This winter I go on the rampage at Leeds universities – convincing students to choose a more fulfilling lifestyle without alarm clocks, suits, crippling debt and golf.
Another preachy article evangelising the benefits of freelancing: this time at enslaved colleagues in careers they deserve to escape from.
If this post has the desired effect then you won’t get too precious about dog turds on the pavement of life, and the smears they leave on your shoe because you’ll quickly wash shit away with your hosepipe of fortitude.
When roles recently reversed, this freelancer turned client. Here’s first-hand experience of what it’s like to commission a freelancer to do what I can’t.
In case you’re worried that this blog is another one of those content-vomiting Internet get-rich-quick schemes there’s something you should know: I only earn 44 pence of profit from the sale of each copy of The Human Freelancer book.
I’m not blessed with both sides of the genital coin, so I only know what it’s like to freelance as a man. That’s why the book occasionally lists on the side of cock, balls and mild aggression. Here’s what I did to redress the balance.