Choosing the life of a solopreneur means working alone, tirelessly, long past retirement age. It means clocking in more than 40 hours per week and often working weekends, too. It means working harder than most folks who have the safety net of a company and accepting that's the price you pay for freedom.
These are things I believed when I became my own boss ten years ago. As a writer, I believed one more giant myth: that of the starving artist. Unless I was one of the lucky, famously promoted authors and editors, I could feed myself — but I couldn't expect to save, vacation or eventually retire with any measure of ease.
There I was, author of a book and founder of a business doing what I love, but working to the point of exhaustion, and more or less broke.
If I could go back in time, I'd tell myself to enroll in Jennifer Armbrust's Feminist Business School classes before launching one-on-one and small-group services, and then selling the heck out of them. I'd tell myself that with a major paradigm shift, it would, in fact, be possible to make a respectable income (say, gross $60,000 a year) while working only 15-25 hours per week.