Behind the Lens
Freelance photography is often romanticised-a life of flexibility, creativity, and artistic fulfilment. And while those elements are real, there's another side to it. Beneath the perfectly curated portfolios and social media highlights is a demanding, unpredictable world filled with struggles, sacrifices, and burnout that few see
The journey as a freelance photographer isn't just about mastering light and composition - it's about learning to survive the physical toll, the never-ending workload, financial anxiety, and the emotional weight of being misunderstood. I've lived through all of it. Still am, to be honest.
Freelance photography isn't all creativity and flexibility-it comes with challenges few people talk about. In this article, I'm opening up about the setbacks I've faced, from exhaustion and injury to unfair treatment, and how I've learned to push forward. If you're a photographer navigating similar struggles or simply curious about what happens behind the scenes, I hope this gives you perspective-and maybe a bit of encouragement.
At first glance, every enquiry may seem straightforward, but it often comes with hidden challenges. Many people reach out without checking my portfolio or rates, and some have little understanding of what professional photography actually costs. This means I have to spend time qualifying each client before I can even provide a quotation. Unfortunately, I often encounter price-checkers or people who continue chatting without any real intention of confirming a shoot.
Before I can agree to a shoot, I need to determine whether the client is serious and whether their needs match what I can provide. This requires asking questions carefully so they don’t feel pressured. It’s similar to interviewing someone to see if we are a good fit, but done in a polite and friendly way.
Many people are unaware of the true cost of professional photography. Some expect very low prices, and when I explain my rates, they either disappear or admit they cannot afford it. This wastes time because I’ve already invested effort in understanding their needs.
To provide a proper quotation, I need details such as the type of shoot, location, duration, style of photos, and other requirements. Without this information, I cannot suggest the right package or calculate the cost. Collecting these details often takes many messages back and forth, which can be tiring when replies are slow. In some cases, it can drag on for days of communication before I have enough information.
Even before confirming a shoot, I have to highlight the payment policy and explain what each package includes. For example, clients need to know how many photos they will receive and what level of editing is provided. This prevents misunderstandings later, but it adds extra work at the start.
Once an enquiry moves closer to confirmation, communication becomes a delicate process. Every client has different expectations, levels of experience, and response habits, which makes guiding them both time-consuming and emotionally demanding.
Some clients take days to respond to simple questions. This delays planning and makes it hard to prepare properly. It feels like waiting for someone to finish a puzzle before you can move on.
Clothing plays a big role in how photos look. If clients don’t share their outfit choices, I cannot advise them on what works best with the location or lighting. This can affect the final results.
Clients sometimes ask for advice on things that don’t have a right or wrong answer, such as “Which colour looks best on me?” or “Should I smile or look serious?” These questions are tricky because the answer depends on personal taste, and I must be careful not to give false hopes.
I need to guide clients so they understand what is realistic. For example, I can suggest poses or lighting styles, but I must also explain the limits of what can be achieved. This prevents disappointment later.
The work begins long before the camera is switched on. Preparing for a shoot is a demanding process that requires both technical planning and personal discipline.
Different shoots require different tools. For example, if I expect a large group, I may need a wide-angle lens as backup, while for a solo portrait I might use a lens with a wider aperture to create a softer background. For off-camera flash photography, I must also decide which light modifier — such as a round or rectangular softbox — best suits the style. Choosing the right gear is like packing for a trip: you must predict what you’ll need without overloading yourself.
Every battery has to be fully charged, and equipment must be packed into carriers that protect them during transport. Sometimes I even switch carriers at the last minute if I anticipate travel difficulties. Forgetting a battery or using the wrong bag can jeopardise the entire shoot.
Transporting heavy equipment is never easy. I have to plan the route, account for traffic, and sometimes carry gear across long distances. This adds stress before the shoot even begins, especially when timing is tight.
Morning shoots are particularly challenging because I often struggle to sleep early. Starting the day without enough rest affects both my health and performance. On top of that, meal times are disrupted, which worsens my stomach issues and makes the preparation phase even harder.
The actual shoot is where everything comes together — but it’s also the most physically and mentally draining phase. Beyond the technical work, I have to manage client comfort, timing, and my own health.
Many people feel nervous in front of a camera. I need to help them relax so their natural expressions show. This requires patience and empathy, not just technical skill.
Some clients don’t know how to pose, while others have very specific ideas of how they want to look. I must balance guiding them with respecting their preferences, which can be mentally tiring.
Carrying and setting up equipment, moving around during the shoot, and staying focused for hours is physically demanding. It’s like doing a workout while solving puzzles at the same time.
Minor injuries are common during shoots. I may get small cuts, bruises, or muscle strains from handling heavy equipment or moving quickly in tight spaces. These may seem insignificant, but over time they add to the physical toll of the job.
I often shoot during golden hours (sunrise or sunset) for the best light. This means my meal times are disrupted, which worsens my stomach problems. Hunger and exhaustion make the job harder.
During the shoot, I must think about lighting, composition, and client interaction all at once. It’s a heavy mental load that leaves me drained by the end of the day.
The end of a shoot doesn’t mean the work is finished. There are many unseen tasks that ensure both the safety of the files and the readiness of my equipment for the next session. With so many bulky items stored in my studio, proper organisation is essential. Most people assume the job ends once the photos are taken, but in reality these behind-the-scenes tasks are vital, even though clients rarely notice them.
After every shoot, I immediately copy all the photos to secure storage. This prevents losing precious memories if something happens to the camera or memory card. It’s like making spare keys for your house — a simple but essential step that takes time and care.
I own a wide range of equipment for different photography needs, from small accessories to large, heavy items. Storing them properly after each shoot ensures they remain safe and easy to locate for the next session. Without proper organisation, preparing for future shoots becomes stressful and inefficient.
After hours of shooting, I’m already exhausted. Yet I still need to focus on careful tasks like backing up files and cleaning equipment. Doing precise work while physically and mentally drained is tough, but it’s necessary to maintain professional standards.
Editing is where the photographs are refined into their final form, but it’s also one of the most demanding phases. It requires patience, precision, and a clear mind to maintain high standards.
After a shoot, I don’t just review the photos once. I go through the entire album multiple times, checking colours, sharpness, and consistency. It’s like proofreading a book — you need to examine it carefully to catch small mistakes. This process takes a lot of time and focus, but it ensures the final photos look professional.
Some clients want their photos delivered quickly, but proper editing takes time. If I rush, the quality suffers; if I take my time, clients may feel impatient. It’s a constant challenge to balance speed with excellence, and I often have to explain why quality cannot be compromised.
Packages usually include basic editing, but some clients expect advanced retouching — such as removing blemishes or reshaping features — at no extra cost. Professional retouching can take hours for just one photo, so these requests are unrealistic unless they pay for the additional work. Unfortunately, some clients behave as if this isn’t already stated clearly on my rates page.
Editing means sitting for long hours at the computer, moving a mouse repeatedly, and staring at the screen. This strains my body and has already injured my wrist and worsened my eyesight. People often don’t realise that post-production can harm a photographer’s health over time. I believe I spend much more time on editing than most others, which makes the impact on me even greater.
Showcasing my work is essential for attracting new clients, but maintaining a professional portfolio is far more tedious than it appears. Each album requires careful curation and presentation to reflect both quality and professionalism.
I need to sort through hundreds of photos and select only the most suitable ones. This is similar to editing a movie — you can’t show every scene, only the ones that fit together and tell the right story.
Photos must be resized, labelled, and uploaded to my website. Because I manage hundreds of folders and thousands of images, everything has to follow a tedious and strict system. Without organisation, the process quickly becomes overwhelming.
It’s not just about uploading photos. I also recap the shoot in a write-up and prepare HTML metadata so search engines can understand and rank my pages. Each album can take a full day to plan and prepare because I want every page to look neat, professional, and stand out from others.
Most people assume uploading photos is quick, but in reality it takes a full day of effort for each shoot with multiple sets. This unseen labour is necessary to keep my portfolio fresh, polished, and appealing to new clients.
Behind the scenes, photography takes a heavy toll on my health. The long hours, irregular meals, and physical strain add up over time. It’s not just discomfort — chronic pain affects how long I can work, how creative I feel, and even how inspired I remain.
Morning shoots require me to sleep early, but I often fail to adjust my schedule. Starting the day tired affects both my mood and performance.
Shoots often happen during golden hours, which disrupts my meal times. Years of irregular eating have damaged my stomach, and I still struggle with it today.
Lugging heavy gear, crouching into awkward positions, and standing for hours have left my back and knees in constant pain. These injuries build up over time and make even simple movements difficult.
Editing for long hours has caused pain in my wrist. This makes even simple tasks like typing or using a mouse uncomfortable, slowing down my work.
Staring at screens for hours while editing has worsened my eyesight. It’s a hidden cost of photography that most people don’t think about.
When my body is in pain, it’s hard to stay inspired. Chronic discomfort drains energy and makes it harder to focus on creative ideas during shoots or editing.
The constant pressure to perform, combined with physical fatigue, builds anxiety. Photography is not just creative work — it’s mentally and physically draining in ways outsiders rarely see.
To cope with these challenges, I’ve learned to adapt. I use trolleys instead of carrying heavy camera bags, work out regularly to strengthen my muscles against strain, and listen to my body instead of forcing myself to power through. I also consult physicians when necessary and limit the number of jobs I accept to protect my long-term health. Safeguarding my well-being is the only way to sustain my career.
Photography doesn’t just challenge me physically and mentally — it also affects my personal life. Family and friends don’t always understand the demands of this profession, and their reactions can be discouraging.
People sometimes assume photography is just snapping pictures for fun. Comments like “That’s your job?” or smirks can make the work feel undervalued.
Friends or relatives may ask for “just a quick shoot”, not realising that even short sessions require planning, equipment, and editing. These requests add pressure and blur the line between professional and personal life.
Dismissive attitudes and unrealistic expectations spill into my personal life. The exhaustion and unpredictable schedules make it harder to explain why I can’t always be available.
To cope, I draw clear boundaries even when it feels awkward, explain my workload openly, and surround myself with people who respect my profession. Sometimes I tune out negativity and focus on what inspires me. Validation doesn’t always come from others — often, I have to give it to myself.
Freelance photography promises freedom, but the reality is often the opposite — there’s never enough time. Beyond shooting, I juggle editing, responding to messages, managing social media, updating my website, and handling admin tasks. It feels like running a one-person agency, where the workload never truly ends.
Client shoots are only the beginning. Editing, communication, marketing, and administration pile up, leaving little room to rest.
Large events can consume entire weekends just for editing. Chasing late payments also eats into valuable time, adding stress without creative reward.
With no clear end to the workday, exhaustion builds up. Burnout makes it harder to stay motivated and inspired, even when the passion for photography is strong.
To manage this, I batch similar tasks together, decline last-minute bookings unless they are truly worthwhile, and block out personal time without guilt. Protecting my schedule is as important as protecting my best lens — my time is valuable, and safeguarding it keeps me creative and balanced.
Photography is expensive. From cameras and lenses to lighting gear and storage solutions, the costs never end. Investing in equipment isn’t a one-time purchase — it’s a constant cycle of upgrading, replacing, and repairing.
Professional gear is costly, and keeping up with industry standards requires regular investment. Each new lens or camera body adds financial strain.
Technology evolves quickly. To stay competitive, I often need to replace or repair equipment, which adds to the financial burden.
Some months bring excessive requests, while others are quiet. This unpredictability makes it difficult to plan finances and adds stress to long-term sustainability.
To manage these pressures, I stay transparent with clients about what goes into a shoot, price my work fairly, and walk away from lowball offers. I also maintain a gear fund to save gradually and resist the urge to buy every shiny new gadget — good work comes from vision, not just the latest tech.
Beyond the daily workload, freelance photography comes with external challenges that can be frustrating and discouraging. These issues often distract from the craft itself and add unnecessary stress to the profession.
Spam retouchers flood inboxes with lengthy, poorly written sales messages. When I’m already battling fatigue and trying to focus, each unwanted message becomes a distraction that chips away at concentration and peace of mind.
Some photographers use shady tactics or deliberately exclude others from opportunities. This creates unnecessary hostility and discouragement. For example, one photographer tried to trend me on Facebook by claiming I was charging low fees, even though his own website didn’t display any rates.
Companies sometimes approach me for free shoots, offering “exposure” or superficial perks like sharing a table with pageant contestants. These offers undervalue professional work and exploit photographers’ efforts.
Some charity organisations reach out for “volunteering” photography work. Yet the person approaching me is being paid, as are other vendors. Too often, photographers are singled out for free labour in the name of charity, which is unfair and exploitative.
I began photography by working with volunteer models, and later tried to give back by helping aspiring models build their portfolios whenever I could afford the time. However, most of them did little to promote my work, and later in life many chose to hire other photographers for their important moments. Even after receiving free top-quality photos worth thousands of dollars from me, some eventually changed their minds and demanded that I remove the work from my portfolio — once the images no longer served their modelling ambitions or confidence-boosting phase.
To cope, I block and report spam quickly, avoid engaging with toxic behaviour, and remind myself that professionalism speaks louder than gossip. I also decline exploitative offers — whether from businesses, charities, or individuals — and make it clear that my work deserves fair compensation. Protecting my boundaries ensures that I can focus on the craft and maintain pride in my profession.
I'm Skai, a photographer in Singapore who works solo-handling everything from concept to final edits, ensuring every shot holds meaning.
My journey has been anything but effortless. It's been filled with challenges, resilience, and lessons earned through experience. What I share isn't just about photography-it's about the reality behind it. The hustle, heartbreak, and moments remind me why I keep going.
If you've ever struggled on this creative path, I see you. You're not alone.
I have suffered various injuries, directly and indirectly, due to photography. Some have since recovered, while some have not.
It was during my first official event photography, which unfortunately required an insane number of clicks continuously for almost an hour. I held the camera very long on my right hand while my left hand was busy adjusting the speedlite on top of my camera to create the best bounce lights possible for every snap.
I carried my tripod sling bag for excessive time without taking sufficient rest. Eventually, I was left with numbness in my left shoulder, together with a kind of non-sharp pain. It didn't take away my strength and the pain would subside over time, but the injury would return whenever I load anything over the shoulder again. I suspect I have badly injured my shoulder blades.
Following that, my right shoulder has started giving way as well.
On various occasions, I had to kneel to reduce the camera shake. The grounds happened to be rough. Multiple times, I got very badly bruised which would take months to recover from. The rest would hurt me for over a week at least.
On certain occasions, I had a more relaxing photography session where I could manage to get seated on the ground to reduce camera shake. However, I pressed onto the ground too hard to keep my camera stable and sometimes, it was just my silly mistake that I tried to get up too quickly that I caused some friction against the ground. Luckily, they weren't very bad bruises.
The worst insect bite that I ever had was during my solo exploration trip to Coney Island for an upcoming portrait photoshoot. I was lucky throughout my life that I had managed to keep my hairy legs clear, apart from a surgery scar, and the suspected sand fly bite left a permanent mark.
Since I do outdoor photography at all kinds of places, I do get attacked regularly. I can get over 10 mosquito bites for photography at places such as Fort Canning Park.
Many keyboard shortcuts require the use of the "ctrl key" in combination with other keys. The last finger on my left hand was somehow injured due to excessive use. In the year 2021, the joint was hit by a fan inside my desktop computer when I was trying to fix something and somehow the injury worsened.
My left wrist started giving me pain out of a sudden. It was likely injured during a photoshoot trip due to the transportation of equipment in some weird angles that the muscle group wasn't commonly used. The pain lasted for months and I was diagnosed by myself that a vein was injured, and it led up to my elbow.
The excessive staring at the computer screen left me with frequent dry eyes, which caused fatigue. The rushing of photo albums that would usually take days for post-production and online marketing were devils.
As a photographer, I always try to work with a clear conscience. My motto is simple: under-promise and over-deliver. Over the years, I’ve worked with many great clients and creatives — but I’ve also upset some people without meaning to. That’s why having clear boundaries is so important.
I spent most of my time building my website so everything is clear. My portfolio, rates, service agreement, and privacy policy are all shown openly. I even wrote many articles and guides to help clients understand photography better. I truly gave my best effort, and no solo photographer in Singapore has put in as much work as I have. Still, I know I can’t please everyone — especially those who turn against me after benefiting from my help.
In 2018, I crossed paths with an amateur makeup artist who approached me for photoshoot collaborations.
Later, a businessman I had never heard of contacted her and requested a “business discussion”. Afterwards, the makeup artist claimed that this businessman had once been jailed for molesting models. I couldn’t risk being linked to someone with such a poor reputation, as it would damage my credibility and mislead beginner models into thinking I endorsed him, causing them to lower their guard.
When I declined the collaboration, the makeup artist became upset and spoke to me sarcastically. I gave her an analogy to stop her from dwelling on it. I later unintentionally bruised her ego, and she began sowing discord between me and others I had collaborated with, twisting my words out of context. Unfortunately, she succeeded in a few instances.
For example, we worked on a project where the location was messy due to circumstances beyond our control, leaving very limited angles compared to our other shoots. The makeup artist wasn’t present during the session, so I explained the situation and told her not to expect “too many good photos”, unlike our other projects where we had more freedom to move around. I was simply trying to play safe and not over-promise before finishing the photos. She deliberately repeated only part of my words to the model, making it sound as though I was insulting her looks behind her back.
I was stunned.
The makeup artist eventually confronted me after I blocked her from viewing my Instagram Story — she likely imagined I would be talking about her there, when in fact I was simply distancing myself from toxic people. She admitted to sabotaging my relationships with others out of revenge.
I realised that when guiding a few new collaborators, I had mentioned how outdoor shoots depend heavily on timing, and that some of my latest projects were badly delayed (by her makeup work). One project even shifted from a day shoot into a night shoot because the sun was already setting by the time we reached the venue.
Although I never blamed her for working slowly — in fact, I valued effort, just as I take longer in my post-production work than others — my sharing unintentionally hurt her ego. To me, it was simply the truth, and there was nothing to be ashamed of as long as the makeover work was good. In her view, since I had damaged her reputation (accidentally), it was acceptable for her to damage my relationships with others in retaliation, even if it meant twisting my words out of context. Clearly, if I had been malicious, I would have repeated her own unkind remark to some of the ladies — that their hair smelled like it hadn’t been washed for weeks.
She later accused me of collaborating with her just to use her wedding gown. In reality, she was the one who first approached me when she had no wardrobe, and I provided the initial models. After she acquired gowns, she asked me to create wedding shoot projects with her. When she failed to discredit me, she claimed I was “good with words”. In truth, she twisted the facts and spread a false story that I was exploiting her, when she was the one benefiting from my established portfolio and experience, as she was completely new to makeup for photoshoots. She continued inventing other tales. I suggested an in-person talk with at least a common friend present to judge fairly, but she refused it.
This experience taught me how destructive gaslighting and manipulative behaviour can be. By twisting facts and projecting her own actions onto me, she tried to make me look like the exploiter when she was the one benefiting from my work. It reminded me that some people with narcissistic traits will retaliate when their ego is hurt, even if the "harm" was accidental. The lesson is clear: protecting boundaries is not just about professionalism, but about safeguarding against toxic personalities who thrive on distortion and revenge.
Many people often describe their common skin concerns like "blemishes" and "freckles" as flaws. Once, I shared an Instagram post to motivate everyone to do photoshoots regardless of their "flaws", a beneficiary took words out of context and started accusing me of insulting people.
It seems like she had been bearing grudges at me before that, and I suspect she's one of the victims of a plot by my hater.
I publish candid articles addressing poor industry practices and anonymous case studies for public education. Although I never disclose names, certain guilty black sheep have taken my insights personally and reacted defensively.
I was also informed that my sharing of educational content online attracted criticism from some amateur photographers who felt my guidance diminished their competitive edge.
A few collaborators, troubled by personal issues, have attempted to undermine my projects by spreading unfounded rumours. Such experiences highlight the importance of professional vetting and clear communication.
Early in my practice, I assisted aspiring models pro bono to build their portfolios. Some later demanded removal of online albums without offering fair recompense for photography, editing, copywriting, or site management.
In one instance, a beneficiary exploited my time, arrived late, and yet I treated her with respect. Months after receiving photos that outshone her existing freelance modelling “portfolio”, she unfairly and unreasonably demanded changes to my website. She claimed the terms and conditions on my site were too long to read, despite having agreed to them digitally. She then posted a false Google review, pretending to be a client and accusing me of privacy issues. It was absurd — like a vegan visiting a popular chicken restaurant and later accusing the restaurant of feeding her meat.
An expat who claimed to be impressed by my work after browsing my website requested an in-person discussion. I customised ideas for him through a personalised package, and he responded with amazement, nodding as though I were a cult leader. He repeatedly postponed the shoot and eventually downgraded to the lowest-tier package. Despite feeling betrayed, I delivered the services of the more premium package at twice the duration without extra charge. Before leaving, he suggested meeting again after his next overseas trip, probably to thank me. Yet after receiving the photos, he soon ceased communication.
Years later, he requested removal of his images, dismissing the privacy buyout option clearly stated on my website simply because he hadn’t purchased it — denying what I had explained during the initial free meet-up. Over the phone, he even shouted, “You’re not my friend!” When I quoted a reasonable administrative fee for the removal, he reacted more furiously and cited the absence of a written contract.
Thanks to this experience, I refined my process by charging clients for in-person discussions and ensuring all agreements are recorded in writing, at minimum through text messages. By the way, he dated a narcissist who's upset with my righteous, and she could be the one who created the mess behind the scene.
I made multiple confirmations with a client about the privacy buyout option in my photography package, and he firmly insisted that he didn’t need it. He presented himself as very confident, even joking that uploading the photos would be to his benefit. Over a year later, he reached out to me “in shock”, claiming he had just realised his photos were on my website. He insisted he hadn’t known about the privacy buyout option — until I scrolled up our chat and sent him multiple screenshots as proof.
I believe he had also forgotten how kindly I treated him before the privacy accusation. His shoot had overrun that day, yet I didn’t charge him a single extra cent. Even after delivering the final photos, I continued to engage with him like a friend. But when I later asked him to help me by writing a Google Review, he disappeared.
I went the extra mile for him, and if he chose to blame me for not abiding by his unreasonable requests without any compensation for my effort, there was nothing more I could do. My time deserves to be respected.
Key Lesson: Maintaining professionalism requires clear contractual terms, transparent communication, and mutual respect. By setting and enforcing boundaries, you safeguard your reputation and ensure every collaboration remains constructive.
Freelance photography is a test of endurance as much as it is of creativity. It requires resilience, patience, boundaries, and the strength to keep going when things feel unfair. The journey isn't smooth, but when an image connects with someone, when it sparks emotion, that moment makes every challenge worthwhile.
If you're deep in the struggle, I want you to know-you're not alone. The burnout, the difficult clients, the exhausting conversations where you defend your profession-I hear you. And I understand.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you have your own experiences, challenges, or victories-big or small-I'd love to hear them. Text me, and let's keep this conversation open, honest, and supportive-just like the work we do.
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