I’ve been freelancing as a web designer for over a decade. The version of me that started in 2014 was naive in ways I find both endearing and embarrassing now. The version of me writing this in 2026 has made enough mistakes to know which ones I’d repeat, which ones I’d avoid, and which ones I still haven’t quite figured out how to stop making.
If I were starting today, here’s what I’d do differently. Not in some idealised way that pretends the path was clearer than it was. Just the practical things I wish someone had told me when I was sat in a coffee shop in 2014 with my first £200 invoice and the vague notion that I’d “figure it out as I went”.
1. I’d charge more from day one
The biggest mistake I made was setting my rates by looking at what I felt I could “get away with” rather than what the work was worth.
I started at £200 a project. Then £400. Then £600. Each step up felt like asking too much, until clients said yes and I realised I should have charged more. By the time I was charging £1,000 a project, I was three years in and I’d built a clientele who expected my old prices.
The version of me starting today would set the floor at £800 for a starter site and refuse to go below it. Not because I’d be entitled to that rate from day one — but because the projects under £800 are the ones that grind you down and make you doubt whether freelancing was a good idea at all.
If you can’t sell a £800 starter project as a new freelancer, the problem isn’t your rate. It’s your portfolio, your positioning, or your sales conversation. Fix those rather than dropping the price.
2. I’d niche down faster
I spent years describing myself as “a freelance web designer” and taking on whoever would hire me. The work was scattershot. A restaurant one month, a charity the next, a tradesman after that. I learned a lot. I also built a portfolio that didn’t tell a clear story to any specific kind of buyer.
The freelancers I know who hit their stride faster than I did all picked a niche earlier. Either an industry (charities, dentists, estate agents) or a service tier (premium small business, ecommerce, brand-led websites). The portfolio reinforced itself. The next client looked like the last one. The marketing wrote itself.
Niching feels risky when you start because it seems like you’re saying no to most of the market. In practice, it’s the opposite — you become the obvious choice for a smaller pool, which is much better than being a maybe in a much bigger one.
If I were starting now I’d pick three industries I’d actually want to work in long term, build my early portfolio around them, and refuse to take work outside those niches until I had the financial buffer to do so on my own terms.
3. I’d build my own website properly before I built anyone else’s
For at least three years my own website was a mess. Templated. Outdated. Slow. The shoemaker’s children scenario.
This is hilarious because the first thing every prospect did before contacting me was look at my website. The site I’d built badly was the marketing material I was using to sell good websites. It was actively losing me work and I couldn’t see it.
If I were starting today I’d treat my own website as the most important project I’d ever work on. Spend a fortnight on it. Make it sharper than anything in my portfolio. Make sure the design, copy, and structure all said exactly what I wanted prospects to think about me. Then keep updating it.
Your website is your reputation in lieu of one. Treat it accordingly.
4. I’d start writing about my work much sooner
I started this blog properly only two years ago. I should have started in 2015.
Writing about your work compounds in ways that are hard to explain until you’ve felt them. Each piece is a permanent asset. It ranks for searches you didn’t anticipate. It earns shares from peers. It gets quoted in conversations you weren’t part of. It teaches you to think more clearly about what you actually do.
The early stuff doesn’t have to be brilliant. It has to be honest, useful, and frequent enough to build a habit. The freelancers who blog consistently for two years have a different kind of authority than the ones who don’t, and it shows up in the kind of clients they attract.
What stopped me starting earlier was a sense that I had to be expert before I wrote. That was wrong. The writing is what builds the expertise, not the other way around.
5. I’d say no to more projects, sooner
I’ve written about this in more depth elsewhere. The short version: the projects you take on define the projects you’ll be offered next. The mistake I made early on was treating every paid project as equally valuable. They aren’t. A £400 build for a difficult client is more expensive in the long run than no project at all.
If I were starting now I’d be much more willing to turn down work in the first 18 months. Specifically, I’d turn down anyone who tried to negotiate the price below my rate, anyone who couldn’t articulate what they wanted, and anyone who treated the discovery call like an opportunity to lecture me about how websites should work.
You don’t owe early prospects a yes. You owe them a clear no when no is the right answer.
6. I’d pay an accountant immediately
For my first three years I tried to do my own tax. I lost evenings I’ll never get back. I made errors that cost me money. I missed deductions I didn’t know existed. I underestimated my tax liability twice and got a nasty surprise from HMRC.
An accountant for a freelance designer costs roughly £600 to £1,000 a year. They save you considerably more than that in time and tax. If I were starting now I’d find an accountant before I sent my first invoice.
Same goes for project management software, contract templates, professional indemnity insurance, and a separate business bank account. The version of me trying to “save money” by not paying for these in 2014 lost much more than I saved by figuring everything out by hand.
7. I’d take ongoing client maintenance seriously from day one
I used to ship a website, send the final invoice, and consider the project done. I’d disappear from the client’s life until they came back two years later asking if I could “have a quick look at the site.”
This was bad for the client and bad for me. The clients without a maintenance plan ended up with broken plugins, security issues, and outdated content. They also forgot I existed, which meant they wouldn’t refer me to others.
The maintenance retainers I sell now aren’t just about keeping the site secure. They’re the ongoing relationship that makes referrals happen, that surfaces upsell opportunities naturally, and that means I have predictable recurring revenue alongside lumpy project work.
If I were starting today I’d build a maintenance plan into every project from day one. Not as an upsell after launch but as part of the original quote. Half my clients would say no and that’s fine. The half that say yes are the relationships that keep the business stable.
8. (Bonus, because I can’t help myself.) I’d worry less about the tools.
I spent way too long in my early years worrying about which design tool was best, which page builder I should use, whether I was missing out by not learning to code from scratch, whether WordPress was the right CMS, whether I should be using Webflow instead.
None of it mattered as much as I thought. The tool you use proficiently beats the tool that’s marginally better in theory. WordPress was fine. Figma was fine. The page builder was fine. What mattered was getting work in the door, delivering it, and getting paid.
The freelancers who obsess about their toolchain tend to ship slowly. The freelancers who pick a stack and stick with it tend to ship more, learn more, and earn more. Be the second kind.
What I’d still get wrong
Honesty point: I don’t think I’d magically nail freelancing if I started today with these lessons. I’d just fail differently.
I’d probably overcharge a few clients in the first six months because I’d be over-correcting from my early under-pricing. I’d niche too tight and have to broaden out again. I’d write blog posts that nobody read and feel like I was wasting my time. I’d say no to a project that turned out to be a great opportunity.
The mistakes are part of it. The point of writing this isn’t to give anyone a roadmap that bypasses them. It’s to share the version of those mistakes I’d be willing to repeat, in exchange for skipping the ones I wouldn’t.
If you’re starting out, take what’s useful and ignore the rest. If you’re three years in and any of this rings true, the good news is you’re three years ahead of me. If you’re ten years in like I am, you’ve already made your own version of every mistake on this list and we should probably get a beer and compare notes.
If you’re a freelance designer reading this
You don’t owe anyone the version of yourself you were when you started. You owe yourself the version you’re trying to become. Work like that.
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