Welcome to the Jungle
Bush Craft for the Freelance Practitioner
IT WAS A LUNCHTIME TALK about practical wisdom and reflective practice for theatre practitioners. At the end I opened for questions:
I only wish I could find the time for this - I have a permanent post.
We're not all freelancers with days to spare.
Suffice to say, the freelancers in the room responded with passion. I can confidently claim to have utilised the entire curriculum of my Principles to Stop it All Kicking Off series that lunchtime.
The first assertion is hard to contest. Those in full-time roles often shoulder responsibilities beyond core delivery, making it genuinely challenging to carve out time for reflection amid the chaos. Yet freelance practitioners navigate an even more complex landscape - lurching from glut to drought while operating without the safety net of HR, Marketing, or Finance departments.
Which brings me to the jungle. Freelance life is pure wilderness - and I mean that quite literally. You're simultaneously the apex predator and the vulnerable prey, depending on the season (and let's be honest, the state of arts funding). There's no feeding schedule, no infrastructure maintenance, and definitely no veterinary if you should burn out.
As we head into a new term, here's a field guide of stuff every freelance theatre practitioner knows they should do (but - let's be honest - usually doesn't).
The Ecosystem at Work
Now, I'll admit this is something of a departure from my usual format - normally I'd weave this advice more organically through narrative (and avoid anything that looks so suspiciously like a "listicle")1. But sometimes - just sometimes - clarity trumps elegance.
1. Invoice Before Extinction:
Do we send invoices immediately? I suspect most freelancers don't. Natural threats to the freelancer include: forgotten invoices, late payments, and that eternal "just waiting on finance." The email sits in your drafts folder like a territorial marking you're too polite to place. I've been guilty of this myself - treating the invoice as somehow impolite rather than essential for survival. Future you (the one who needs to eat) will thank present you for firing that survival flare.
2. Preserve Your Receipts in the Wild:
Observe the common theatre freelancer stuffing train tickets into pockets, where they degrade into unreadable lint. I've done this countless times. Future archaeologists (your accountant) will not be able to reconstruct expenses from textile fragments. File them like rare specimens; they're worth their weight in tax deductions.
3. Avoid Exposure
Do you put everything into one project without planning for the next? Only chase week-long intensives, or only regular weekly gigs? Successful species diversify: short regular hours for steady income, occasional intense projects for variety, seasonal offerings when the market demands it, plus cross-subsidising work that funds passion projects. A mixture reduces your exposure to cancelled bookings, failed funding bids, or the company who suddenly "doesn't have budget." And always - always - get agreements in writing.
4. Hibernate on Purpose:
Do freelancers mistake collapse for rest? I suspect many of us do. True rest requires intention - planned downtime, scheduled like a performance. Otherwise, you'll burn out faster than a Fresnel with questionable wiring (and I speak from experience here). Even apex predators need their downtime - the difference is they choose when.
5. Mark Your Territory:
An outdated digital presence is like using old maps in unfamiliar territory. When did you last update your website? Is your LinkedIn actually reflecting what you do now rather than what you did three years ago? Your professional trail needs regular maintenance - not flashy rebrands, just honest updates. A short article here, a project reflection there, evidence that you're still thinking and developing. Your digital footprint should make sense to whoever's looking, whether that's a potential collaborator or a commissioning body.
6. Communicate Like a Social Species:
Networking needn’t require a forced grin and evidence of radical social intervention. In the wild, friendly signals - a coffee invite, a "loved your show" email - strengthen the social structures that keep entire ecosystems functioning. Collaboration is how packs survive, but also how they evolve. Remember, though, there is a difference between building genuine relationships and just collecting contacts .
7. Stockpile for Winter:
Freelancers exist within feast-or-famine cycles (news to no one reading this, I'm sure). One month, endless gigs; the next, tumbleweeds and the sound of your own nervous breathing.2 Squirrels stash acorns; you should stash cash. This is less charming advice, more essential infrastructure.
8. Build Your Nest:
You need somewhere to go back to for nourishment. Your ‘nest’ is a system for collecting the ideas, inspirations, readings, and random genius-level thoughts that will fuel future work. That workshop exercise that landed perfectly, the article that shifted your thinking, the participant's insight that changed your approach - where do they live? In scattered notebooks? In the folder screenshots go to die? A collection system you can actually navigate when inspiration strikes will serve you better than hoping your memory works under pressure. And make back up files!!!
9. Mark Your Victories with a Victory Dance:
Freelancers often scurry to the next project without stopping to howl at the moon.3 Do we celebrate the workshop that shifted something in the room, the funding bid that landed, the show that transcended its technical limitations? Tiny rituals of recognition keep the species thriving - and help build the reflective practice muscle we all claim to want but rarely actually exercise.
10. Don't Become The Terrain:
I was once on an outdoor survival course, building shelters. Mine was really good - perhaps too good. The instructor looked at my elaborate construction and asked, "How long are you planning on staying?" He went on to point out that the aim wasn't to live in the wilderness but to survive until we completed our mission or were rescued.
There's a parallel here worth considering. As freelancers, we want to practice - lead sessions, teach, direct, have time to reflect and be creative. The process work - finance, funding, marketing, the endless hustle - these are survival skills, means to an end. The strategies outlined above aren't about becoming better at administration for its own sake. They're about making the business side so routine that it doesn't crowd out the space needed for developing practical wisdom, for deepening your craft, for the work that actually matters.
You need these survival skills or you won't survive to complete the 'mission.' But you also need to make sure they remain in service of that mission, not supplanting it entirely.
The ecosystem needs you flourishing, not just enduring. But it also needs you remembering why you entered the jungle in the first place.
And remember: always send the invoice.
I write the newsletter from various coffee shops, imagining I'm chatting with my subscribers over a cappuccino. So if you ever find an issue particularly helpful or thought-provoking, you can now literally buy me the coffee that will fuel the next one. This approach keeps the newsletter free and accessible for everyone while still allowing you to support the work when it resonates with you.
Yes, a “listicle” is actually a thing
Or “The Fear” as a good friend of mine has titled it.
Though exercising discretion regarding the location of the howling is something I learned from experience.