I’m a control freak, so of course I don’t let this happen too often. However, last week, a big project I’ve been working on for some time got away from me. It had been slowly plodding along, months behind deadline and mostly-stagnant, while I worked on other things and waited for the bits and pieces I needed to come in. I figured nothing was wrong, really—sure, we were way behind deadline, but the client knew that, since they missed their deadlines, right? The design process tends to stall if the client isn’t coming up with their end of things (feedback, content, etc), so I’m used to projects that go into a bit of stasis for a while. I figured it wasn’t a big deal.

Kabloo-ey!

Wow, was I ever wrong. Suddenly, something happened with the client—I’m guessing that my contacts got chewed out by their boss—and they started emailing me three times a day, asking where things were. I was working on a team with a writer and a project manager, plus two client contacts, and there was suddenly a massive influx of emails flying around all over the place, each more aggressive and inflammatory than the last. I had been working with an illustrator based out of [somewhere far away], and I started to realize he just wasn’t delivering in a timely manner, he’d go AWOL for days on end, and that I wasn’t able to properly communicate my client’s vague directions to him. My stress levels spiked, and panic set in. I’m going to fail, I told myself. I’m going to fail, the project will tank, and I’ll never work again. It’s over for me. Might as well start handing out resumes to coffeeshops now.

But apparently I’ve now got this big bad logical-calm-adult brain going on. It told the panicky screaming little kid inside my head to shush, and started figuring out how to fix things. Now, a week later, the project is nearly finished (well, sort of), my stress levels are reduced significantly, and I’m working with a new illustrator who’s turning stuff around at light speed and gets my client far better than I do.

So, apparently all projects–except maybe the most dire of cases—can be salvaged. Regardless of who’s at fault or what’s gone wrong, the process of finding a solution is relatively constant. This is how I go about it.

1. Get communicative.

Good communication can fix a whole slew of problems—and in fact, in my experience, bad communication tends to be the cause of most problems. The moment you realize things have gone sour, you need to get in touch with everyone it’ll affect (clients, subcontractors, third parties) and let them know what’s going on. You may not be able to fix the problem right away, but everyone will appreciate feeling as though they’re in the loop. I’ve found it’s also helpful to email people if I won’t be able to tackle a task within 24 hours—a quick message to say I got your email, and I’ll deal with it tomorrow when I have time is often enough that your client doesn’t feel like you’ve abandoned him. This is enough of a danger when a project is running smoothly—when things have gone amuck, it’s doubly so.

2. Own up to your mistakes.

Ideally, you won’t be responsible in any way, shape, or form, for the project’s failure. Realistically, I’ve found that in most cases of project hell, every party involved is at least fractionally to fault. Take responsibility for your own errors or mismanagement—without making an ordeal out of overly profuse or insincere apologies. Identifying your own failings up-front and honestly shows your client that you aren’t afraid to admit to your mistakes. If you can identify and apologize for your failings, it also means that your client can’t blame you for problems that aren’t your fault, and you don’t get sucked into a vicious cycle of accusation. At this point, playing the blame game gets you nowhere; what you need is a solution.

3. Figure out a solution, or two, or three.

Once you’ve admitted fault, it is absolutely necessary to immediately present alternate solutions, so as to avoid focusing attention on the blame portion of the conversation. Ideally, you want everyone to be focused on solving the problem, rather than getting wrapped up in what went wrong and who’s to blame for what. (That’s a conversation for later.) Remind everyone that the primary concern is solving the problem. Then, present as many solutions as you can dream up. By offering up choices, you are giving your client a renewed sense of control, which will reduce his panic while also serving to limit your responsibility, should things go sour again. Remember when presenting solutions to outline all the pros and cons of each option, and don’t hesitate to suggest the “best solution”, if one exists.

4. Be willing to bend, just a tiny little bit.

Your flexibility should be directly proportionate to how much at fault you are. Missed an important deadline? Promise priority turnaround for the remainder of the project, without a rush fee. Sent the wrong file to the printer? Offer to work a few hours extra for free, and swallow the costs. Don’t put yourself in the poorhouse, but do what you can. Sometimes just a gesture of compromise will be enough to make your client realize that you’re doing everything you can to get things back on track.

5. Make it very clear who is responsible for what.

Especially important in a project where deadlines are an issue (I’m thinking that would be all of them?) and you require feedback or content from your client. Send them an updated timeline that outlines each party’s responsibilities, and the deadline for each deliverable. I don’t often tend to use “hard” dates, as I find the moment that one gets shifted, everything else gets thrown out of balance. Instead, I’ll count the days required for turnaround. Want a website done by next week? Give me content tomorrow—I can have it turned around in four days. If you wait ’til next week, your website won’t be done on time. That way, your client can better understand what his responsibilities are in order to meet a deadline.

6. Learn from your mistakes.

It seems like a given, but it’s important to make sure you learn how to avoid the situation in the future. If the client is open to it, consider having a brief post-mortem after the project’s completed—this way, you can get their input both on the disaster itself and on how you handled it.

Follow these steps for disaster recovery, and you’ll be able to minimize the damage to your business and to your reputation. After all, a good client will appreciate your forthrightness, your ability to adapt to a bad situation, and the fact you can learn from your mistakes!

I can’t resist a good fire photo. You know how it is.

There’s a maxim to pricing freelance work that goes something like this: you can have two of the following three elements: fast, cheap, and good. When I first started out, I tried to be all three. Naturally, there ended up being some compromise, most notably with respect to the “fast” and “good” elements of the equation. As I grew as a designer and a businessperson (it still sounds funny calling myself that), the scales shifted: my prices increased as the quality of my work and process increased.

For some time, I struggled with the idea of offering clients their choice between fast and cheap, but I’m coming to realize that this, too, is impractical on a larger scale—I’m so consistently busy that it simply doesn’t make sense for me to take on very many lower-paying gigs, regardless of how spread out their timelines may be. I really prefer working on projects with shorter timelines, anyway: the work-to-reward cycle is so much shorter (and thereby more gratifying), and a more rapid cycle of development means that the project remains fresher in my mind—I don’t forget details or need to re-learn anything as we progress. So, unless it’s a case ofhey-I-really-did-need-this-yesterday, in which case a priority placement and rapid-turnaround can be secured with a rush fee (although I’ve found most clients with urgent projects suddenly decide it can wait a little, after all, when they discover that it’ll cost more), “fast” is non-negotiable. Quality, naturally, is even less negotiable

As a result, my fees have been steadily increasing. A while ago, I switched to pricing projects using a flat rate based on an hourly model, with certain discounting for clients and projects I like (conversely, of course, there’s also a hidden “pain in the ass” fee that’s tacked on for work that’s going to drive me to the bottle). The per-project model makes me feel more comfortable about pricing negotiations, which I’ve always been terrible at, and as a result have an awful tendency to under-price myself.

Ooh, shiny.

I think my problem with properly pricing myself has always been an issue of perception: I still see myself, fundamentally, as a little girl who simply has no idea what’s going on. People are always surprised when I admit to this, which is gratifying—at least I don’t come off as naive and insecure as I often feel!—and logically, I know that this isn’t how it is. I’m twenty-six, which means I’m officially Very Much a Grown-up; I’ve been running my own business for years and can still afford gorgeous shoes, which means I must have some sort of head for it; and my clients are happy with my work, which means that I’m producing good work. And so, every time I increase my prices, the logical part of my brain forcibly overrides the insecure, insane part.

Every time I increase my price in some way, I feel uncomfortable about it, but force myself to manage the discomfort. And every time, it pays off: I feel more valued, I feel happier in my work, and I can afford nicer shoes!

I think the shoe comparison works here: I used to buy $20 shoes. Now, my standards are higher: I won’t buy a pair that’s made of plastic, or that originally cost less than $100, simply because I realize that these will be of inferior quality. I no longer want to save money at the expense of quality, and this is a characteristic I’m looking for in my clients. I don’t want you to work with me because I’m cheap; I want you to work with me because I produce great work.

And ultimately, the higher my prices are, the better work I’ll be able to produce—both because I’ll be able to spend more time focusing on the minutia of the project, and because I’ll be able to spend more of my “spare” time developing my skills. While I’ll probably never be tackling million-dollar accounts (and because I keep my overhead low, I really don’t need to charge nearly as much as an agency would), I am no longer a low-cost solution. I’m a high-quality solution, and the more I charge, the better I’ll be.

Right now, I’m a pair of well-fitted leather Nine Wests. Eventually, I’ll be a pair of Louboutins. (And then I’ll be able to afford a pair!)

Apparently I can work the topic of shoes into every single subject ever. Eventually this website will stop pretending to be about design and will just go on and on, at length, about footwear. I’m beginning to believe I have a problem.

We spend so much time complaining about the bad clients that it’s sometimes easy to overlook the good clients. Lately, I’ve been working with a few really great clients, and I’ve been so happy because of it. Where a bad client can make you feel as though you’re losing your soul, a good client reminds you of why you fell in love with design in the first place and makes you feel as though you’re doing a good job. It’s the sort of warm-fuzzy feeling I associate with boys who bring me flowers and strangers complimenting me on my shoes.

Winning your designer’s love, regardless of any other factors, will mean that you will receive a level of service and quality that surpasses that most Troublesome Clients receive. When I love a client and feel that my client respects me as a professional, I invest more of my mental energies into their project. A good client makes you want to do an amazing job, where a bad client experience will often just make you want to finish as fast as possible and get the heck out.

So, how do you go about making sure you’re the greatest client ever, and ensuring your designer feels as passionate about your project as you do? Here, a few tips culled directly from my Dream Clients:

1. Pay your bills as fast as humanly possible.

Nothing says “you’re not worth much to me” like a leisurely bill payment. Freelance designers suffer so much stress about unpaid bills and cash flow—it’s hard when you don’t have a regular stream of income—that late-paid bills are a major problem.

I have one client in particular who sends me a full payment, via electronic means, within 24 hours of receiving an invoice. Every time it happens, I am utterly delighted. The rapid work-reward cycle means that I feel more compelled to finish work rapidly, knowing that I’ll be rewarded immediately upon completion. If, on the other hand, it takes more than a month to put a cheque in the mail (there is a due date on there, you know!), I’m going to feel much less inclined to speed through the project.

Freelance designers are not the power company—if you don’t pay us, we can’t eat (or buy pretty shoes)! Pay your bills promptly, please.

2. Know what you want.

It’s your designer’s job to gently guide you and to help you figure out what you want, then create a visual representation of your needs. If you approach a project without knowing what you want, the whole process goes to hell. Essentially, if you don’t know what you want—and you don’t need to have every detail planned out, but you do need a rough idea—I can’t figure out how to build it for you. It’s like if you were to hire an architect to design you a house; you’d want to figure out how many bathrooms you want before asking for blueprints.

Beware the phrase “you’re the designer”, as in “Well, you’re the designer, you figure it out!”. While I think usually this is used with good intentions, it will make the vast majority of designers cringe. To us, it sounds like you’re saying “you’re the magician!” (See also: “Can’t you just Photoshop that?” Design is not magic; Photoshop is not a magic button. It’s mostly work, training, and lots of patience.)

3. Understand that I probably know what I’m doing (and that’s why you hired me, right?)

This directly contrasts the “well, you’re the designer!” mindset, and clients usually tend towards one extreme or another, where a balance is really preferable. A micromanaging client, however, will almost always be less popular than a hands-off client. This is an almost guaranteed way to make your designer want to throw himself off the nearest bridge, skyscraper, or touristy landmark.

Of course, there’s a fine line between giving feedback and micro-managing. How to tell the difference? If you’re into the sixth round of revisions, and all the revisions read something like so: “Make the logo 40% bigger, and move it 3 inches to the right. Make the text all white, and the background purple. Headings should be right-aligned and in 4pt red Comic Sans. Can we add a few animated gifs throughout the page in order to make it ‘pop’?” (Please note: often these sorts of phrases are then followed by “Well, you’re the designer! Can’t you just make it look better?” and then repeated ad nauseum until all gadgets that receive email or phone calls are smashed into little bitty pieces.)

Remember: you hired your designer (I hope!) because you think they do great work and know what they’re doing. They’ve probably been building websites longer than you. While ultimately the final judgement call is yours, realize that a good designer will work with you to give you a final product that both suits you and your business and looks good. Remember that we have your best interests in mind, and give us enough freedom to create something beautiful for you.

4. Communicate effectively.

The client-designer relationship is much like any other relationship: emotions are involved, everyone’s a little nervous to begin with, you need to make sure everyone’s happy and nobody’s being taken for granted, etc. This is why, of course, good designer-client relationships generate brilliant work, and bad ones leave all parties unhappy. So, like with any other relationship, good communication is vital. Make sure you’re being clear about how you feel and what you want, and treat your designer with respect and consideration. (This means no phone calls at 2am, no matter how dire you think the emergency is, right? In theory, I am sleeping then.) Your designer needs your feedback in order to know that they’re on the right track—make sure that you can give useful, constructive feedback in a timely manner.

And when all else fails, sending presents works, too. I once had a client who mailed me a box of chocolate brownies when my computer died, in order to “aid the recovery process”, and another client who made me a heart-shaped chocolate cake. Chocolate generally engenders love and loyalty, but really, all that’s required is a polite thank you for a wonderful job, and I’ll move mountains for you.

I received an absolutely phenomenal response, and was able to meet with a number of really fantastic people. (I wish I could have hired everyone!) That said, it was interesting being on the other side of the hiring process, and I think if I’m ever in the position of applying for a job again, I’d do things a little differently as a result.

In about a week’s time, I heard from around 60 different applicants. This was a LOT for me to process, but from what I can tell of the industry, this is actually quite a small number. So while I would have loved to pay very detailed attention to each applicant, most people didn’t even get their resume read. This, I suspect, is probably not at all uncommon. If someone’s busy enough that they need to hire, they’re too busy to spend forever finding that perfect someone to hire.

A few tips & hints for job-seekers:

1. Never, never, never use “to whom it may concern”. Seriously, it’s there in the hiring notice, and it’s all over my website. I can already tell when you’re copying-and-pasting a generic cover letter into your email, but it’s just plain offensive if you spell my name wrong or omit it entirely. (As a side note, I know that my long-lost cat is presently listed as CEO and chairman of the board on my website…. but please stop addressing emails to her. I can’t tell if you’re trying to be cute, or if you’re just deranged, which I’m guessing nobody can tell about ME, either.)
2. If you’re applying for a design position, your resume should probably be nicely designed. You should also have an online portfolio of some sort. If you can’t figure out how to upload some images to a website or create a pdf, you’re unlikely to find work in the graphic design industry.
3. “LOL” is not an appropriate term for use in a cover letter. Also, please use capital letters. And form your sentences properly. And spell things correctly. Seriously, what are they teaching in schools these days? Damn kids.
4. Follow instructions! I cannot stress how important this is. If you’re a lacklustre candidate, I’m skimming your email looking for a good excuse to toss you into the “no” pile and move on to the next applicant. Neglecting to send me any of the items I’d explicitly requested in the hiring notice (in bold, no less) gives me that excuse.
5. Your resume is probably too long. I didn’t read any of these fully, so the more scannable it is, the better. There were a lot of resumes that listed design work, which is great, but then went back as far as customer-service type jobs. Working at McDonald’s may grow character and an irrational hatred of hamburgers, but it doesn’t make you a better designer. Unless maybe you’re designing the cheeseburger wrappers, but even then, I have my doubts.
6. Your portfolio is probably too big. And please don’t attach it to your email; my computer goes into anaphylactic shock when it needs to download 12MB of attachments all at once. Restarting my machine makes me cranky.

And of course, chances are good that if you’ve made someone cranky, you won’t be getting an interview, no matter how lovely your portfolio is or how well-rounded your resume. A cranky employer is an employer who’s going to hire someone else!

I think I could have probably fleshed out some of my answers a little more fully, but didn’t want to fall into the trap of becoming overly verbose, which I have a tendency to do.

What enthused you to enter this line of work?

In school, I was always a bit of an academic, and I had a lot of troubles deciding between the arts and sciences. I love that design allows me to use my whole brain–some aspects are very creative and visual, and some aspects require more analytical thinking and problem-solving. It’s constantly challenging me, and I’ve always found that it keeps me striving to do better. I’ve always enjoyed visual arts but have never felt particularly gifted at them. A more typically “academic” line of work might not have been as much of a challenge for me, and I think that I would have lost interest at some point.

Is there anything you dislike about this career? What would you change?

Because its tools have become more widely available, more and more people are calling themselves designers because they can run a Photoshop filter or cobble together a website. And while it’s great that it’s become more accessible, it also means that there’s more semi-professionals undercutting those of us who are trying to pay our bills this way, and there’s a whole proliferation of really terrible design running around (especially online!)

I wish that the public perception of the industry were a little higher. The GDC is doing a lot of work towards this, and there are loads of people who do understand the value of professional design work, but there’s still a lot of people who think that their neighbour’s kid who knows how to use Photoshop can provide them with a valuable branding package for $50. I don’t mean to be elitist about it; having training or being a “professional” doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll be able to create more valuable work than a self-taught amateur. But I do think that design is important enough to a business that people ought to be willing to pay reasonable prices for it! And don’t get me started on the Indian companies who’ll create an e-commerce site for 40 rupees, or the online companies that create you a “custom” logo created from clipart for $300.

What is the most challenging part of your work?

The easiest answer is “the client”, but that gives the wrong impression. Clients are an integral part of design, and it is their presence that differentiates “design” from “art”. Clients can be incredibly frustrating to work with–they ask you to do horrible, ugly things to a formerly clean and well-crafted design, they change their minds all the time, they change the scope of the project and complain about inflated costs–but they also foster good design by creating challenges and forcing a designer to think around, and for, their particular requirements.

When creating a design what do you feel is the most important aspect?

That it fits its content and message.
Being gorgeous comes second.

Did you draw as a hobby before your career choice? If yes, how has it affected your hobby?

I used to do a lot of drawing, painting, etc. I don’t do it as much as I’d like as often, but I need to do more and I know that doing so will help me with my digital design. I’ve often heard it said that designers don’t NEED to know how to draw, but it really does help. It adds extra dimension and understanding to your work, and it develops your “eye”, which is integral to good design.

Who are some of you artistic influences? What is it about their work that inspires you?

I’m a little all over the map with this. I love Georgia O’Keefe, I’m a big fan of David McKean, I love Aubrey Beardsley. I’m fond of Expressionism and Surrealism, as well as Russian Constructivism. I’ve always really enjoyed well-crafted, finely detailed work in general (bottle labels, book covers, websites). And I really like dark, stylized illustrations (a lot of graphic novels have some stunning examples of this).

I find that when something really strikes me as beautiful, it inspires me to make something equally lovely. Usually it’ll help me think in new directions, and consider things from a new perspective.

How did you get started in design and how long have you been doing it for?

I’ve been designing websites since I was about 14–I lived in the middle of nowhere and basically had nothing to do, so I taught myself how to design. I actually never considered it a viable career choice until I’d finished a year of university (philosophy & journalism) and realized that a degree might not actually translate into a viable career.

So I turned around and took a year of design at my local community college, NSCC. (It’s usually a two-year program, but I managed to get by a portfolio review in order to do it in one instead.) What had formerly been more of a hobby became a passion, and school is a great place to get really excited about something. I’ve always been more of an academic with an interest in artistic things, but I never thought that it’d be practical to pursue as a career, so it was really exciting to find an artistic endeavour that also had practical applications!

What is the best school to go to, and how long did it take you to complete schooling?

I don’t know what the “best” is. I did it in a year, but in hindsight, I wish I’d done more. From what I’ve seen, college courses tend to be more practically-oriented (tech-oriented), but university courses are more comprehensive (theory-oriented). I think it’d be best to have a mix of this!

What are the most important skills do you feel a designer needs to be successful?

Perseverance, determination, and the ability to stay up all night.

What is the salary like for this career?

Well, if you’re working for yourself, it’s variable. But I’ve been really lucky, and my first job paid $38 000 with tons of benefits. If you can find a copy of the GDC’s salary review, that’s a great source for salaries across the board–it really ranges depending on who you’re working for, how long you’ve been working, and what particular aspect of the industry you’re in.

Thank you so much

You’re welcome! I hope this has helped, and if you have any follow-up questions, do feel free to send them my way. (And this goes double for the rest of you, too!)

Well, I’ve been talking about it forever, and, finally, it’s official—resumes are on sale! Get all the details here.

I’m doing a whole host of revisions to my custom client admin panel codebase, so anyone getting one of those with their new website in the upcoming months will be seeing a more elegantly designed and more user-friendly interface there. While I’m in there, I’ll also be overhauling the code base so that it’s cleaner and stabler, meaning better, stronger, faster websites for everyone!

Oh, and there is one new project I can show for the time being: another newspaper ad for the post office space. Coming up soon: an explanation for why I’ve been stealing stickers off all the apples in the grocery store, and all sorts more.

For now, a listing of my favourite Google search terms that have brought people to this website:

• “why don’t humans hibernate”
• what website can i go to to make a layout of my bedroom then print what my bedroom would look like?
• jennifer arnold display and design
• grunt labourer services
• hrm unorthodox
• “sarah pretty”

Thanks for the compliment, Google! I think you’re pretty, too!