Sitting in a CPA’s office twenty-two days after I left my previous (salaried) job, I still wasn’t 100% sure I had made the right decision to resign from my job and start a public history consulting business. But by the end of the appointment, I felt proud, something I was not expecting. Apparently, according to the state of New Jersey, with the help of the Small Business Administration, I had created one job and was asked to sign a form to prove it.
It turns out you can start a business even if you barely have any business. Indeed, I didn’t have any clients save a few speaking gigs my colleagues kindly offered to me when I told them I was striking out on my own (thank you, colleagues!). But I did, in fact, have a job. Not only did I have a job, but I started a business, and the government cared. It felt very patriotic!
Whether people other than those working for the government view it this way varies. When I tell people I am self-employed as a consulting public historian, they often ask, some more hesitatingly than others, “But are you making money?”
This question has bothered me. Would you ask that of an attorney in private practice? Or an electrician? What I’ve come to realize is that most people don’t know historians can be self-employed just like those who provide other services or craftwork. Or, even if they are familiar with the work of consulting historians, people are just wondering, “how do you make money as a public history consultant? How do you find clients?”1
Those are the interesting questions to me, and it wasn’t until the last few months that I think I was able to provide a full answer.
For everyone who is concerned, yes, I am making money. But this isn’t a business for everyone, and extra care should be given to any big career change, including those of us in the United States combating constantly changing threats to how we do history and live our lives. One of the reasons I could take this leap without saving much money first (though I should have thought more about that) is because I have a spouse who gets insurance for us both through his job and who was willing to live with substantially less income for well over a year. I was also lucky that it was a good time in my professional arc. First, I wasn’t so new to the field that prospective clients would not know who I am. Second, I had developed a deep enough skillset that enabled me to attract a variety of prospective clients and projects. I have been fortunate to have worked with many wonderful colleagues who gave me opportunities to build new skills on the job, including as a graduate student. Thanks to all that, it worked out. I am making enough now.
I am making enough, but the biggest downside for me has been the lack of a consistent salary. Some months, nothing goes into my bank account. The next month, I get a check or two. So, it can be difficult to do personal budgeting. Yet the benefits of being a consultant—setting my own schedule, choosing who I work with and what projects I work on, carving out time for meaningful volunteer work or scholarly writing—far out-weigh that downside. So, how do I find clients to make that money everyone is wondering about?
When I first decided to strike out on my own, I sent my closest colleagues an email letting them know what I was doing and what kind of services I felt I could offer. I also made announcements on social media platforms. That was difficult for me since I naturally shy away from self-promotion. But those emails got me those first few speaking gigs, two workshops on accessibility for people with disabilities in the museum and humanities sectors, editorial work, and a few other projects that seemed to fall out of the sky. Thank you. Those early contracts, complemented by some online, part-time work and, in the fall, a graduate seminar I taught, helped me get through my first few months. These early days of my consultancy were clouded and complicated by the death of my father and then my mother. Even if I had had more work in that first year, I’m not sure I would have had the time to do it due to family illness.
My parents were more comfortable with the idea of working for one or two employers until retirement and worried about whether I would be OK. I’m bummed they aren’t here to read this. Because by February of 2024, about a year after I started my business, I could say that I felt financially comfortable with my projected income for the coming year. It can be gauche to discuss money. But, maybe we should more often. After all, money is what’s on people’s minds when they ask about my work. So, in the interest of salary transparency, I will add that, in 2024, I matched my old salary, and 2025 is shaping up to be even better. I feel lucky to have been able to reach a milestone like that within the first two years. From oral history to collections management to good old research and writing (including disability history, my area of expertise), I am busy for the foreseeable future. Since I started, I have worked with clients in eight states. I hope the good fortune continues.
My network remains the primary way through which I find work. People I know—or people who know people I know—get in touch, state they have a project for which someone thought of me, and ask if I’d want to learn more and submit a proposal and a quote. I am grateful for the continued support I have received from my colleagues in the field. (In Part II, I’ll write more about what goes into responding to and writing proposals for this work.)
I have also contracted with clients somewhat outside or almost entirely outside my network. They often submit RFPs (requests for proposals) or RFQ’s (requests for quotes) to me. They typically find me through databases such as the National Council on Public History’s consultants’ directory. Thanks, NCPH!
So, yes, I am making money. But running a business also includes a lot of unpaid work. And lots of this work happens to involve math (not my strong suit). Writing proposals (more on this in Part II); creating and sending invoices; accounting; with the help of a CPA, figuring out how much to set aside for taxes (30-35%, and probably more for 2025!), retirement (5-10%, at the least), and business expenses (these are way higher than I anticipated); figuring out how long it will take me to do a task and what my expenses may be so I can charge appropriately for it (this is tricky!); making sure I don’t overbook myself (harder than it sounds); researching and buying insurance; keeping up with the field through reading or doing service work; doing unpaid scholarly writing or service work; looking for the next project; figuring out how to fit in time off . . . the list goes on. These things are difficult to get right, but I’ve enjoyed learning a new skill—how to run a business.
Another unpaid part of work is staying in touch with friends and colleagues in the field. One of the things I feared about leaving my previous job was that I would lose my network. Not so! This change has strengthened my network. I have more Zoom chats with colleagues and friends than ever before, including a regular Zoom meetup with other consultants (many of whom have way more experience than I do—I’ve learned a lot from them). I meet up with my local peeps at South Jersey’s best little breakfast spots and at my favorite Philadelphia bars. And because I work with clients who connect me with other people who are part of the projects I am working on, I am meeting and working with new people almost every day. It’s exciting and is probably laying the groundwork for future inquiries about my services. Yes, I am in this line of work to make a living, but I’m doing it for the same reason I worked for non-profits in the past: to improve our lives through the humanities (especially history).
A follow-up question I sometimes get is, “well, but what do you want to do…next?” Or, “what do you really want to do?” I will always consider a dream job if one comes along. But right now, this is the dream. Time to get back to it!