UX Gaps

 With a clearer understanding of the gaps in your skills, you start taking a closer look at the people you've met in your weekly networking group over the past few months. You’ve built a sense of who you connect with, who’s approachable, and who you could genuinely see yourself working with. You dive a little deeper—checking LinkedIn profiles, browsing portfolios, and trying to get a feel for who might be a good fit for future projects. You reach out to a developer who seems promising. You explain your situation honestly: your strengths, the areas where you could use support, and the types of projects you might bring them into. They’re open but cautious. No promises yet—just the beginning of a possible collaborative relationship. While that’s unfolding, an email pops up in your inbox. A short freelance request from a UX designer in one of your online communities. It’s a small ed-tech project, right in your wheelhouse, and the chance to collaborate is exciting. The first week goes...

Two days after delivering the final handoff for your barter project, the excitement is still buzzing, but so is the overwhelm. Your client is ecstatic about their new website. They promised referrals and a glowing testimonial for your portfolio. You finally take a deep breath and sit with everything that’s just happened. It was a small, low-stakes project, yet it felt full of pressure. Delayed responses, tiny scope changes, and unexpected requests stretched your timeline and tested your communication skills. Looking back, you realize that every quick addition did more than extend the hours. It nudged the entire project schedule for both you and the client. You hadn’t paused to address those changes in the moment. Now that you see it clearly, even the smallest add-on should have been a signal to stop and talk — a simple conversation confirming that any additions, big or small, would shift the timeline and potentially the deliverables. Only after alignment should you have even considered...

It’s been a few months since you started showing up to UX meetups, and things are finally starting to pick up. One day, a friend of a colleague reaches out, connecting you with a small business that needs a website. You open the email, excited. They’re just getting started and can’t quite afford a full-rate project, but the work aligns perfectly with your niche. You see an opportunity for a strategic barter — a partial discount in exchange for a testimonial or referral. You hop on a call to learn more. You ask about their business goals and deadlines and try to get a sense of how involved they want to be. Pulling from your pricing guide, you make sure that even a discounted project still feels fair. You sign the contract, set your plan, and get to work. Then reality hits. Unlike your boot camp days, no mentor is checking your progress or confirming your decisions. Every unexpected client request or small mistake triggers self-doubt. Did you communicate clearly enough? Did you scope t...

The new business cards arrived last week — thick matte paper, clean typography, and your latest title: EdTech App Designer. It feels good. You’ve reworked your portfolio, aligned all your social media, and even updated your email signature. Everything finally fits the story you’ve been building — your brand, your niche, your vision. This week, you’re at your monthly designer meetup, showing off your new cards and talking about your focus in EdTech app design with friends and colleagues. Everyone’s impressed — and for the first time, you feel like your hard work is starting to pay off. But as the conversation continues, reality hits in the form of questions you’re not prepared to answer. “So, what do you charge for a typical project?” “Do you have a contract template you use?” “How do clients usually pay you — upfront or in phases?” You smile, trying to sound confident — but inside, there’s a flicker of panic. Because while you finally look like a business, you realize you don’t quite ...