Hiya writer friends,
There’s a certain kind of man who appears in my Inbox every week. He’s angry that I say you can be a successful freelancer in this market. He’s angry that I promote my products and membership. He’s angry that I give advice that doesn’t apply to his personal situation or unique circumstances.
His anger typically stems from the fact that I’m successful and he’s not.
If he’s white, he tells me I’m “exotic” and that’s the key to my success. If he’s Indian, it’s because I’m a traitor who moved to the West. He credits my husband with any opportunities I may have had. He tells me I’m lucky and arrogant.
He always has a reason to justify why I’ve made my career work. And he knows, without any doubt, that it has nothing to do with my talent, attitude, or hard work.
I went to India earlier this year to visit my family. Over dinner one night, my brother and I were discussing the beginnings of our working lives. Early in his career, my brother—who worked in hospitality—had the opportunity to come to London for a year and work as a trainee in a five-star hotel.
He experienced racism. He was paid less, treated worse. He shared a flat with three other Indian trainees and still barely made rent. He accepted this as his current situation and was determined to transform it into something different. He took every shift that was offered, working double shifts on weekends and holidays. He barely slept, barely ate. “It was difficult, but I knew that when I returned I would have more skills than anyone else,” he told me. “I took advantage of the opportunity I had by outworking everyone I knew.”
If you’ve heard me talk about my early years, you’ll know that these are the exact words I use. In my first few years of freelancing, I outworked everyone, too. I sent 25 pitches a week, I applied for assignments others turned their noses up at, and didn’t let rejections get to me. I knew that I had a harder climb than writers in the West or more privileged writers at home and so I learned everything I could and worked harder than anyone I knew.
And, of course, it paid off.
It’s no surprise that my brother and I speak the same language, think in similar ways. We learned it from our parents, after all. My father, who became a refugee after the Partition and my mother, who grew up in a family that scorned women’s ambition. They didn’t complain about the hard work they had to do to overcome their situation. They were just grateful for the opportunity to change it.
My parents achieved FIRE (Financial Independence, Retire Early) during my teens, long before it was a trend, then lost it all to a cheating relative, having to rebuild their lives when I was in my 20s. All the while making sure their children had more opportunities than they did.
My parents worked their arses off to pave a better path for me. And I’m working my arse off to do the same for my son.
I learned at a very early age that life is not fair.
That there would always be people who had it easier and comparison would keep me stuck in victim mode.
Instead, I learned to acknowledge where I was, get clarity about where I wanted to go, and continuously find ways to bridge that gap.
My instinct, like my brother’s, was to put my head down and work. I was young, able-bodied, and had no real responsibilities. What I had was time, will, and a hunger to make it work.
Life my brother, I focused on the things I could control.
So I took every assignment, learned every skill, did my best for every job and every editor, whether they worked at The New York Times or Construction Today. I respected both. I saw opportunity in both.
Time and youth were on my side, so I made that my advantage. And I worked.
Every now and again I’ll unintentionally sign on a coaching client who’s only there for the easy answers. They want to send five pitches and land assignments from The New Yorker. I’m not saying it can’t be done. I’m sure it can. I know writers who have.
But for that to happen, you better be really good. Or you better work really hard.
Usually, you work really hard until you get really good.
I don’t have shortcuts. If you don’t have the time, the energy, and the motivation to build your career, I will always be a disappointing mentor. Because I will tell you to own your choices and do the work.
And if you stick with it? If you show up for it day after exhausting day? If you master the skills you need to bridge the gap, it is 100% possible for you to not only do this, but do it so successfully that people start appearing in your Inbox telling you how easy you had it and how incredibly lucky you are.
Cheers,
Natasha