What Being a Freelance Designer Has Taught Me About Running a Business

I became a freelance designer because I wanted to create. Not just to make websites, but to build meaningful, thoughtful, and useful things—something crafted with deliberation, not rushed off the assembly line.

But what I didn’t realise back then was that freelancing would slowly, sometimes stubbornly, teach me something well beyond the boundaries of design itself. It would teach me what it means to build and run a business.

Here are some things you only really learn by doing this work, lessons for anyone who creates, designs, or tries to build something from scratch and keep going even when it’s tough.

1. Creativity Needs Structure to Thrive

When I started freelancing, I thought the whole point was freedom—no schedule, no boss, just me deciding what to do every day. I imagined lazy mornings, working when I felt inspired, and doing everything on my own terms. The dream, right?

Turns out, that kind of freedom can get pretty messy—fast. I realised creativity doesn’t work well in chaos. It actually needs some structure to survive.

If I didn’t put boundaries around my time and set up a process for projects, I was always reacting to things, replying to messages, chasing feedback, working way too late. I felt busy, but never really productive.

I used to think routines and systems would ruin my creativity, but honestly, they did the opposite—they protected it. When I had a process for handling new jobs, getting briefs, and planning out my day, I actually had more focus and room to do my best work.

I wasn’t a fan at first (“my creativity can’t have rules!”), but the truth is: creativity is like a garden. It needs a bit of order and care to really grow.

2. Not Every Project Is Worth Doing

When you’re just starting out, every project feels precious; every enquiry a validation. I remember saying yes, almost compulsively, to anything—believing that momentum was the only thing that mattered.

What I quickly learned—sometimes painfully, is that not every opportunity is a good fit, and the wrong projects can cost much more than they pay. It’s not just about money; the true price is dilution of energy, erosion of joy, and a blurry sense of why you started creating in the first place.

Being a creator means learning the subtle art of discernment and trusting your gut when a project doesn’t align with your values or creative direction. The best projects have a certain resonance: they’re built on shared values, mutual trust, and a real belief in the thing being made.

When those ingredients are missing, even lucrative projects can weigh heavy. The creative path is too short and your spark too rare to waste it on things that don’t move you or your client forward.

3. Clients Aren’t Just Buying a Website

Most clients honestly don’t care how clever my code is, or which new frameworks I’m using, or whether I’ve nailed the latest design trend. What almost everyone is really looking for is clarity, someone who can help make sense of all their half-formed ideas.

After years of doing this, I’ve learned that being a designer isn’t just about making nice things. My job is to ask the questions no one thought to ask, to calm things down when everyone’s a bit lost, and to make sure we slow down enough to figure out what actually matters.

Building a website isn’t just about “making it look good.” It’s taking a pile of confusion, hopes, and maybe some panic and gently shaping it until it feels like something solid. The end result isn’t just a list of features or pages; it’s that moment when everything clicks, and suddenly there’s direction instead of uncertainty. That’s what I try to deliver.

At the end of the day, that’s what people are paying for: the feeling of having someone in their corner who’s really paying attention, who gives their ideas shape and meaning. “What are we actually building, and why?” is the one question I come back to with every project because if we can answer that together, everything else follows.

4. Time Is a Design Constraint Too

If you’re a designer, you already know the power of constraints. We talk a lot about working within the grid, picking a limited palette, shaping ideas to fit a medium. Those creative limits? They actually set us free. But the biggest constraint isn’t always obvious, it’s time, and nothing puts a spotlight on that quite like working for yourself.

Early on, I thought staying busy was the goal. I tried to squeeze something “productive” into every hour, packing my days so tight there was no air left. All it did was leave me tired and show me that “doing more” isn’t the same as “doing better.”

Eventually, I learned (slowly, after more than one burnout) that you can’t make your best stuff when you’re always running out of steam.

Turns out, “more projects, more hours, more hustle” is the enemy of real creativity and meaningful work. The best things I’ve made, the stuff I’m proudest of, came when I carved out space to think, to explore, to let an idea grow at its own pace. That’s when clients get the best of you, too.

If you want to make good work and enjoy your life doing it, you have to treat your time with care.

5. The Business Is Part of the Craft

For so long I treated “the business stuff”, pricing, documentation, contracts, boring admin—as something separate, something you just grind through so you can get back to real work.

But the longer I do this, the more I realise that the business side is just as creative as the rest of it. When I set my prices, I’m really just starting a conversation about what my work is worth. When I send a contract, I’m trying to build a little trust—setting boundaries so everyone feels safe. Every email or update is a tiny moment of connection; it’s how I let clients know I actually care about them, not just the outcome.

I used to think all of that was just admin, but now I see it’s just another material to work with. When I bring honesty and attention to those “boring” parts—the process, the policies, the keeping-in-touch—they start to feel like an extension of my craft, not a separate chore.

Being a creator isn’t only about the stuff you make; it’s about building the whole environment around your work so the good stuff has space to grow. If I design my business with real intention and kindness, everything works better. It feels warmer, more genuine, more human—like an ecosystem where people want to stick around, clients feel relaxed, and I can do my best work without burning out.