Daily Life

A day in the life of a (non) productive freelancer

I dreamed once upon a time about having time to work as a freelance writer. I would spend my ‘writing day’ pumping out creative content, pitching pieces, meeting with people (while fitting in a yoga class and time with the husband). I would quickly become so busy in my freelance career with affiliate sponsorships and articles that I would soon have to reduce my days at work to work on creative projects that paid me a million dollars.

However, I am yet to master the art of productivity at home. Here is how the ‘freelance day’ goes.

4.50 am

Cat does the head run for food/ waking us up/ generally being annoying. Get up and give cat fancy feast. Make promise with self to go for a run or make it to 6.45 F45 training. Fall fast asleep.


Wake up. Vow to exercise later. Fire up laptop with blog ideas in my head. Surf Facebook for 45 minutes. Look at cats on Instagram. Go into a dark hole and realise that there is a LIVE STREAM OF TINY KITTENS. How did I not know about this?


The Ginger Hunk declares that we should go to the bakehouse. YES. Writers need coffee! We sit at the bakehouse and mull over the benefits the creative day we have together and aren’t we lucky not to go to work. Order one more coffee because why not?


Decide that I have not done enough writing and I should give yoga a miss. Marvel at my self-discipline. Marvel at list of freelance pieces I am commissioned to write. Someone is paying me to write! Even though one piece is due in two weeks, I feel that all this information should be put into a list rather than commencing said article. Make excel spreadsheet of all my articles and ideas and due dates. Feel very professional.


Cat starts slapping my arm to go for a walk. The air will do us good. On our walk cat skulks between the fence at the back of the house and disappears. I hear my mother’s voice in my ear telling me that it was never smart to walk the cat without a leash. I realise how I can get to said cat. Scale the neighbours fence and come face to face with cat in the backyard. Cat bolts back through the fence. After 20 minutes of searching, I go upstairs to tell husband the news that I have lost the cat. Cat is at front door waiting to be let in, looking pleased like a serial killer.


Sit down to write. I realise I have a crink in my shoulder and decide I need to see the Osteopath right away. Ring the Osteopath who has an appointment in thirty minutes. AMAZING. Such luck!


Have adjustment. Feel wonderful. Creative ideas will surely come now!


Whilst I am out I may as well stop at the Sushi train for a late lunch. It will be so much faster than eating at home. Enjoy 27 plates of Sushi and fall into a food coma. Decide to buy self flowers on the way home, (because flowers help writing).


Return home, arrange flowers and sit on couch for 30 minutes. Cat sits on my lap for the first time in 30 years. I cannot move her because this will cause distrust and hatred. Ideas for stories drift into my head but I cannot get up due to said cat. We both fall asleep into a sushi induced purring coma.


Wake up shocked. Is it that time already? I realise I have not done any washing, or housework so this might be a good time to put a quick load on before I write my blog post. In the mean time, the cat does a massive shit and kicks the kitty litter all over the floor. I vacuum and take the opportunity to vacuum the whole apartment, because I love the Dyson so much. While I am at it, I may as well dust and do the windows.


Husband declares we need to get out of the house, because us creative people need to be around other humans. We end up at the pub down the road. By 6pm we have declared that we do not feel like cooking so takeaway is ordered.


Takeaway time and couch snuggles.

We quickly fall into the rabbit hole of The Bachelor and True Detective. He will only watch one if I watch the other, so we have to watch both. (Fair is fair!) I scroll through my phone and respond to blog comments, and declare that “this week, writing day will be on Sunday!” and that “I am lucky to have such flexibility!”


Crawl into bed. Spend 30 minutes looking at Instagram pictures of my own cat.

Silently vow to be more productive in the future.

Are you a freelancer? 

HOW did you LEARN to be productive?

Is it really all the cats fault?

Ashleigh XXX





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