The honeymoon rush and the hidden dip
Going solo feels incredible at the start. You swap office politics for personal freedom, toss the timesheet, and pick your own clients. Within hours of announcing your new practice you’re flooded with
well done!
messages and you start picturing workdays on your own terms.
That’s the honeymoon. Then the hidden dip shows up. Work piles up, cashflow stalls, and you realise
every
decision lands on your desk. One practitioner in our community thread summed it up perfectly:
“I’m building from scratch and it’s WORK. You’re literally working for every dollar you make, every client you bring in.”
The dip is normal. What matters is how you prepare for it and push through.
Decide why you’re doing this (and write it down)
A clear “why” keeps you anchored when motivation tanks. Is it flexibility with kids? Control over client selection? Financial upside? Write it down now, because you’ll need to reread it on the nights you’re still working at 11 pm.
“Best move of my life.”
“Over ten years ago now, and even when I hated it, I still loved it.”
Those aren’t empty slogans. They’re reminders that purpose beats panic when the to-do list feels impossible.
Action step:
Draft a short “mission statement” for yourself. Stick it on the wall above your monitor. Refer to it whenever self-doubt creeps in.
Build your financial runway before you leap
Love won’t pay the ATO. At minimum, stash three months of living costs
plus
three months of business overheads before you quit salary life. Six months is safer, 12 is gold. Replace “hope” with real numbers—rent, software, insurance, professional membership renewals, and that inevitable laptop upgrade.
“I took a part-time job to keep the fires burning… it offered me stability while I was new in practice.”
Action step:
Open a dedicated business savings account. Treat it as untouchable runway money. When it hits your minimum target, you’ve earned the green light to go harder.
Price properly from day one (then add 20 %)
The fastest way to hate your solo journey is low-balling fees. You’re not a discount store; you’re a problem-solver. Charge accordingly.
“Money is great especially when you get over the scared to value your worth and charge more phase.”
Start with a pricing floor that covers your time, tech stack, and profit. Then add a buffer—clients won’t blink if you confidently anchor the value. Review fees every 12 months and never apologise for going up. Inflation isn’t shy and neither should you be.
Practical tip:
Package your services. Fixed-fee bundles (e.g., bookkeeping + quarterly review + year-end) stop scope creep and smooth cashflow.
Nail a reliable referral engine
Referrals are cheaper than ads and warmer than cold calls. They’re livelihoods on legs. One comment nailed it:
“The best thing is to find people who can refer you work… lawyers, accountants, bankers.”
Map your circles: ex-colleagues, small-business owners, local advisers, software partners. Let them know exactly
who
you help and
how
. Make it stupidly easy for them to send a lead—think one-page PDF, short Loom video, or a “forwardable” email template.
Action step:
Schedule two referral coffees every month. In-person beats Zoom if you can swing it. No selling—ask questions, share wins, stay top of mind.
Create (and guard) a support network
Solo doesn’t mean isolated. The practitioners who stick it out are the ones who lean on peers:
“You need a support network around you to ask questions, check you are on the right track.”
Find your tribe: Facebook groups, state-based bodies, Slack communities, masterminds. Swap templates, vent about nightmare BAS lodgements, celebrate that first five-figure month. Community provides free CPD, sanity checks, and the gentle push you sometimes need to send that fee-increase email.
Boundary tip:
Curate your feeds. Mute the perpetual complainers and follow people who share practical solutions.
Systemise everything you can (yes, everything)
Re-keying data, chasing e-signatures, hunting for email threads—these tasks steal billable hours and your will to live. Automate or outsource early:
• Core stack: Xero, Karbon, FYI, Ignition or similar.
• Workflow: Templates for onboarding, monthly close, final review.
• Comms: Calendly links, canned email responses, e-sign reminders.
Every ten-minute manual task that repeats weekly drains an entire working week across the year. Systems hand that week back to you.
Protect your mental health like it’s your main asset
Burnout doesn’t care how full your pipeline is. Blocks of leave, exercise, and hobbies must make the calendar or they won’t happen. One contributor admitted:
“It can be hard – hard to stay motivated, hard to keep going when sometimes you don’t want to.”
• Set office hours and tell clients.
• Say “no” to clients who wreck boundaries.
• Book quarterly long weekends before you plan revenue targets.
You can’t serve anyone if you’re running on fumes.
Accept that some will pivot back (and that’s not failure)
Not every journey ends in a flourishing boutique practice, and that’s fine.
“I initially loved it, but now I don’t… I will go back to employment when I can.”
Leaving self-employment doesn’t erase the skills you gained. You’ll take sharper client empathy, stronger pricing awareness, and a deeper understanding of workflows into your next role. Consider it a paid apprenticeship in running a business.
When the dip feels bottomless, use this decision filter
• Do I still believe my “why” statement?
• Have I exhausted community resources? Mentors, forums, official support lines.
• Is my pricing honest enough to fund growth?
• Have I given myself a realistic runway?
If you answer “no” to all four, a strategic pause or return to employment could be the healthiest call. If you answer “yes” to at least two, you’ve got foundations; tightening systems and mindset will likely shift results.
Final word: choose your hard
Employment is hard. Self-employment is hard. Pick the version that lines up with your goals and values.
“Even when I hated it, I still loved it.”
“Never looking back.”
“It was the best and most exciting decision of my life.”
