Real talk about money, rates, and the business of making things.
Studies of creative professional pricing consistently show the same thing: independent artists, makers, and creative freelancers charge less for equivalent skill and output than professionals in almost any other category. The gap isn't small. Surveys of Etsy sellers show median effective hourly rates below $15/hr once production time is fully accounted for. Comparable skilled trades — plumbing, electrical, graphic design at an agency — command $60-$120/hr or more.
This isn't a skills gap. It isn't a market problem. It's structural, rooted in psychology and math errors that are almost universal in the creative industry. And because it's structural, it's fixable.
1. The hobbyist discount. The majority of independent makers started their practice as a hobby. When they transitioned to selling, they carried with them an implicit sense that charging market rates for something they enjoy doing would be somehow greedy — that the love of making should translate into a discount for buyers. This is a cognitive bias, not an economic reality. A plumber who genuinely loves plumbing charges the same rate as one who doesn't. A surgeon who finds surgery fulfilling doesn't charge less. Joy in your work is a feature of the work, not a liability that should be passed on to customers at your expense.
2. Invisible costs. Most makers are reasonably good at counting materials. They are systematically bad at counting time and almost universally bad at accounting for overhead. The full cost of a ceramic mug isn't clay + glaze + kiln electricity. It's clay + glaze + kiln electricity + 45 minutes of throwing time at your target hourly rate + 20 minutes of trimming and finishing + a proportional share of your studio rent, equipment, business insurance, website, and the 20 minutes you spent packaging and shipping it. That number is often 3-5x what most makers charge.
3. Fear of rejection. Raising prices feels like submitting to a vote the market might lose. If you raise to $85 from $60 and sales drop, it will feel like a confirmation that you overvalued yourself. The research says the opposite typically happens: a fraction of customers leave (often the most price-sensitive and most difficult to work with), the remaining customers don't change their behavior, and because each sale generates more revenue, total income holds or increases even with lower volume.
Let's run a real example. A maker produces hand-sewn tote bags and sells them for $38. They feel good about this — it's competitive with similar bags on Etsy, and customers seem happy with the price.
The actual cost breakdown:
The bag sells for $38. The maker is losing $9.50 on every sale before adding profit margin. The more they sell, the more they lose. This isn't unusual — it's the norm. And the maker often doesn't see it because they're only counting the $9.50 in materials and thinking of the remaining $28.50 as "profit."
The mental model most makers have is: raise prices → lose sales → make less money. The reality for creative goods is much more nuanced.
Handmade goods don't compete on price the way commodity goods do. When someone searches Etsy for "hand-sewn linen tote," they're already opting into paying more than they'd pay at Target. The price comparison they're making is between your $38 bag and someone else's $42 bag — not between your $38 bag and a $12 one at a chain store. Within that comparison set, the price signals quality. A $58 bag that looks similar to a $38 bag often outsells it, because buyers assume the $58 one is better made.
The customers who will leave at a corrected price were almost always your price-motivated, most-difficult customers. The ones who stay are almost always your most loyal, most appreciative, easiest to work with. Raising your prices often improves the customer relationship, not just the financials.
Shift 1: Calculate, don't feel. Stop setting prices based on what feels right or what the market seems to charge. Run the math: materials + labor at your target hourly rate + overhead + profit margin = minimum viable price. Use that number as your floor, not your ceiling.
Shift 2: Price your work, not yourself. A high price doesn't mean you think you're better than other makers. It means the work took time, skill, and materials that have real economic value. Charging correctly is not arrogance — it's accuracy.
Shift 3: Do an audit before anything else. If you don't know where you stand, you can't know what to fix. Use the Price Audit tool to run your current items against a real cost model and see exactly where the gaps are. Most people who do this find 3-5 items that are significantly underpriced, which is usually enough information to change their approach entirely.
The pattern that plays out for most makers who fully correct their pricing: some attrition in the first few weeks, stabilization within 2-3 months, and then a durable improvement in economics. Revenue often holds even with fewer sales. Customer quality improves. The sense of dread around orders — the feeling that you're doing all this work and it's not adding up — goes away, because now it is adding up.
The transformation isn't just financial. Charging correctly changes how you show up: you take on fewer orders, you have more time for each one, the quality of your work improves, and the customers you attract at correct prices tend to value what you make at a level that matches the care you put into it. Underpricing is a cycle. Correct pricing is also a cycle — just in the other direction.
The fear of raising prices is almost universal among creative professionals — and almost always overblown. A well-handled price increase loses a fraction of clients, retains the best ones, and increases revenue per hour. The math is on your side. The psychology is the part that needs work.
This guide is about both: the research on what actually happens when creatives raise their prices, and the practical steps for doing it in a way that feels professional and lands well with the people you've built relationships with.
Pricing research on handmade and creative goods — including studies of Etsy sellers, independent illustrators, and craft fair vendors — consistently shows that demand for individual maker's work is less price-sensitive than most makers assume. The customers who buy handmade goods are already self-selecting out of the mass-market comparison. They know they're paying more than they'd pay at Target. What they're paying for is the maker, the story, the quality, and the specificity — not the price point itself.
Studies suggest that for creative goods, price increases up to 15-20% have negligible impact on conversion rates. Price increases of 20-40% show modest customer attrition — often in the 10-20% range — but because each remaining customer is paying more, total revenue typically holds or increases. Price increases above 50% do see meaningful attrition, but if those prices now reflect what the work actually costs to make, that's often the correct outcome.
If you haven't raised your prices in the last 12-18 months, a 15-20% increase is almost certainly warranted and will almost certainly be absorbed without significant loss. Materials costs have increased. Your skills have improved. Your time is worth more. A 20% price increase on a $45 item takes it to $54 — a difference that barely registers for a customer who already values your work, but one that materially changes your effective hourly rate.
If your prices are genuinely too low — not just "haven't been raised recently" but "built on an incorrect cost calculation" — the correction may need to be larger. Do the math on what your prices should be first (use the Item Pricing Calculator), then decide whether to get there in one step or phase it in over two increases separated by 6-12 months.
Step 1: Pick a date. Give yourself 3-4 weeks to communicate before the change takes effect. This gives existing clients a chance to get ahead of it if they want, and it builds anticipation rather than springing it on people.
Step 2: Communicate directly. Email your list, post on social, message any repeat clients individually if you have that kind of relationship. Direct communication is always better than a quiet update that people notice later and feel surprised by.
Step 3: Offer a grandfather window. "Orders placed before [date] will be honored at current prices" is a clean way to reward loyalty, generate some orders before the change, and make the announcement feel like a gift rather than a demand.
Step 4: Raise the prices. On the date you said, update everything — Etsy shop, website, Shopify, commission inquiry form, wherever prices appear.
Step 5: Don't look back. You will probably lose some customers. Some of them will be the right customers to lose.
For an email or social post:
"Starting [date], I'm updating my pricing to better reflect the time, materials, and care that go into each piece. If you've been thinking about ordering, current pricing will be honored on anything placed before [date]. Thank you for your continued support — it genuinely means everything."
For a direct message to a repeat client:
"Hey [name] — just wanted to give you a heads-up that I'm raising my prices on [date]. You've been such a consistent supporter that I wanted you to know before the general announcement, and to let you know I'll honor current prices on any order you place before then."
Both of these work because they're honest, not apologetic, and they frame the grandfather window as a thank-you rather than a panic response.
Some customers will push back — they'll express disappointment, ask if you can make an exception, or quietly disappear. Here's how to think about each:
The disappointed long-timer. "I've been buying from you for years and now I can't afford it." This is genuinely hard, and you're allowed to feel it. But your prices being too low has effectively been a subsidy that you weren't in a position to offer. You're not obligated to continue indefinitely. A kind, empathetic response that holds the line is appropriate: "I really appreciate your support over the years — it means so much. This increase is something I've needed to do for a while to keep the studio running. I hope I'll still see you."
The exception-asker. Do not make exceptions. One exception opens the door to a permanent discount relationship that's uncomfortable for both parties and undercuts your price signal to everyone else. Be warm, be grateful, hold the line.
The ghoster. They just don't come back. That's okay. Customers who were primarily price-motivated were the customers most likely to disappear eventually anyway.
Price-sensitive buyers are almost always your highest-maintenance customers. They ask more questions, request more revisions, leave the most nuanced negative feedback, and return things most often. The customer who buys from you every quarter without complaint and refers their friends? That person is not leaving over a 20% price increase.
When you raise your prices to their correct level, you often end up with fewer transactions, similar or higher revenue, and dramatically better customers. That's not an accident — it's the natural self-selection of a market that rewards positioning.
Most creative professionals pick an hourly rate by looking at what others charge and choosing something in the middle. That's how you end up underpaid. The market rate for your type of work tells you what other people charge — it tells you nothing about whether those rates are correct, or whether they're appropriate for your specific situation.
Your target hourly rate isn't a market observation. It's a personal calculation. And when you run the numbers correctly, it's often significantly higher than what you're currently charging.
When you look at what other makers or freelancers charge and price yourself accordingly, you're assuming they did the math correctly. Most didn't. Surveys consistently show that independent creative professionals undercharge across the board — Etsy sellers' median effective hourly rate is below $15/hr once production time is fully accounted for. If you benchmark against that, you inherit their mistake.
The correct benchmark is: what do I need to charge per hour to cover my actual costs, pay myself a livable wage, and sustain a financially viable business? That number might be higher or lower than market rates. If it's higher, you need to either raise your prices or reduce your costs — not accept a below-viable rate because that's "what the market supports."
Target hourly rate = (Annual income goal + Annual business expenses) ÷ Billable hours per year
Then add your profit margin on top. Each variable needs unpacking:
This isn't just your rent and groceries. A complete income goal for a self-employed person includes:
Add all of that up honestly. Most creatives who do this exercise find their real income need is $55,000-$85,000 before taxes, depending on where they live and how they want to live.
These are the costs of running your practice that aren't tied to specific products:
For most independent makers, this comes to $12,000-$25,000 per year. If you've never added it up, the number is usually higher than expected.
A standard full-time schedule is about 2,080 hours per year (52 weeks × 40 hours). But as a self-employed creative, a significant portion of your working hours are non-billable:
Conservative estimate: 55-65% of working hours are truly billable/productive. At 40 hours/week, 60% billable = 1,250 billable hours/year. That's the denominator to use.
That's the target. Compare it to what you're actually earning per hour on your work. If there's a gap, that gap is the scope of the problem — and it's fixable through pricing, efficiency, or both.
Once you have your target hourly rate, use it consistently across everything you make. When pricing a product, calculate the actual time it takes (make a few and time yourself), multiply by your hourly rate, add materials at cost, add an overhead allocation, and add your margin. That's your price floor — the minimum you can charge and still hit your income goal.
Use our Hourly Rate Calculator to run this math with your actual numbers, and the Item Pricing Calculator to build that rate directly into your product prices.
Etsy is a remarkable distribution channel — millions of buyers actively looking for handmade goods, built-in trust, and a discovery mechanism that can find your work for people who didn't know they were looking. It's also a platform that makes it very easy to underprice yourself, in ways that aren't always obvious until you add up what you're actually keeping.
Here's what Etsy charges on a typical sale:
On a $50 sale with no Offsite Ads: $0.20 + $3.25 + $1.75 = $5.20 in fees, or about 10.4% of your revenue. That's before packaging, shipping supplies, or your own time on fulfillment.
If that sale triggers an Offsite Ad fee at 15%: add another $7.50 — now you've paid $12.70, or 25% of a $50 sale, before you've paid for a single material or minute of your time.
Use our Platform Fee Calculator to see this math on any price point. Most sellers who run it for the first time are surprised by the result.
New Etsy sellers almost always make the same mistake: they search Etsy for their product type, look at the price range, and set their prices near the low or middle of what they see. The logic feels sound — I want to be competitive. The problem: you have no idea whether the prices you're looking at are sustainable for those sellers. Many aren't. Etsy is full of listings priced below cost by makers who haven't done the math, or who are treating their work as a hobby and not expecting to actually make money.
When you benchmark against those prices, you're competing with people who are effectively subsidizing their customers. You can't win that game without losing money.
Here's what matters for Etsy search ranking, roughly in order of importance:
Notice what's not on that list: being cheap. Price is not an Etsy ranking factor. You don't get rewarded for undercutting; you just earn less per sale.
The right way to handle platform fees is to treat them as an overhead cost and price above them. If you need $40 net on a product, and Etsy's combined fees (including a reasonable estimate of Offsite Ads risk) run about 13%, your price needs to be at least $40 ÷ (1 - 0.13) = $46. Round up and build in margin.
This also means your Etsy prices should generally be higher than your prices elsewhere — not the same. If you sell at a market or on your own website with lower overhead, your prices there can reflect that. Keeping prices consistent across channels often means undercharging on Etsy to match your website price, or overcharging on your website to match Etsy. Neither is right.
Etsy's fees are worth it when the platform is actively generating discovery you couldn't get otherwise — when buyers find you through Etsy search who wouldn't have found you any other way. That's the value proposition, and it's real.
They're less worth it for repeat buyers who already know you. If 60% of your Etsy orders come from people who've bought from you before, you're paying Etsy 10%+ on transactions they didn't generate. For repeat customers, a simple direct-order option — email, a Squarespace page, anything — means you keep that 10% without asking them to do anything they wouldn't otherwise want to do.
Most sellers with an established customer base can move a meaningful portion of their revenue off-platform over time, keeping Etsy for new customer acquisition while serving existing customers directly. That split is how you get the best of both worlds.
If you've started selling your work — fiber art, illustration, photography, custom commissions, design services — you've probably hit the moment where someone asks, "Is your business an LLC?" and you're not totally sure what to say. Then you start Googling, and within ten minutes you've run into "DBA," "sole proprietorship," "registered agent," and a dozen other terms that all seem to mean something slightly different on every website you read.
Here's the plain-English version. A DBA and an LLC are not two flavors of the same thing. They solve different problems. Understanding the difference is the key to picking the right one — and to not overspending on structure you don't need yet.
The moment you start selling work and intending to make a profit, the IRS already considers you a business — specifically a sole proprietorship (or a general partnership if you've got a co-owner). You don't file anything to become one. It's the default.
That matters because both a DBA and an LLC are things you add on top of that default. So the real question isn't "should I become a business?" You already are one. The question is "what structure do I want that business to have?"
DBA stands for "doing business as." Depending on your state it might be called a fictitious business name, an assumed name, or a trade name. All the same idea.
A DBA does exactly one thing: it lets you legally operate under a name that isn't your own legal name. If your name is Maria Lopez and you sell weavings as "Maria Lopez," you don't need anything. But the second you want to operate as "Hill Country Fiber Co." or "Lopez Studio," most states require you to register that name so the public knows who's behind it. That registration is the DBA.
What a DBA gives you:
What a DBA does not give you:
DBAs are cheap — often $10 to $100 — and fast. In many places you file at the county or state level and you're done the same week.
An LLC (limited liability company) is a genuine legal entity. When you form one, you're creating a business that exists separately from you as a person. That separation is the entire point.
What an LLC gives you:
What an LLC costs you:
Filing fees and annual costs vary dramatically. A few states are genuinely expensive (looking at you, California and New York); others make it very affordable. Here's the full picture:
| State | Filing fee | Annual fee | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| Alabama | $200 | $50/yr (report) | |
| Alaska | $250 | $100/2 yrs | |
| Arizona | $50 | None | No annual report |
| Arkansas | $50 | $150/yr | |
| California | $70 | $800 min/yr | $800 franchise tax regardless of profit |
| Colorado | $50 | $10/yr | Very affordable |
| Connecticut | $120 | $80/yr | |
| Delaware | $90 | $300/yr | Popular for legal flexibility but costly ongoing |
| Florida | $125 | $138.75/yr | |
| Georgia | $100 | $50/yr | |
| Hawaii | $50 | $15/yr | Low ongoing cost |
| Idaho | $100 | $0 (report only) | |
| Illinois | $150 | $75/yr | |
| Indiana | $95 | $50/2 yrs | |
| Iowa | $50 | $60/2 yrs | |
| Kansas | $160 | $55/yr | |
| Kentucky | $40 | $15/yr | One of the cheapest |
| Louisiana | $100 | $30/yr | |
| Maine | $175 | $85/yr | |
| Maryland | $100 | $300/yr | Annual fee is high relative to filing fee |
| Massachusetts | $500 | $500/yr | One of the most expensive |
| Michigan | $50 | $25/yr | |
| Minnesota | $155 | $0 (report only) | |
| Mississippi | $50 | $0 (report only) | |
| Missouri | $50 | $0 | No annual report required |
| Montana | $35 | $15/yr | Very affordable |
| Nebraska | $100 | $13/2 yrs | Publication requirement ~$150–300 |
| Nevada | $75 | $350/yr | Business license + annual list fees add up fast |
| New Hampshire | $100 | $100/yr | |
| New Jersey | $125 | $75/yr | |
| New Mexico | $50 | $0 | No annual report — genuinely cheap |
| New York | $200 | $9/2 yrs | Publication requirement: $1,000–$2,000 one-time |
| North Carolina | $125 | $200/yr | |
| North Dakota | $135 | $50/yr | |
| Ohio | $99 | $0 | No annual report |
| Oklahoma | $100 | $25/yr | |
| Oregon | $100 | $100/yr | |
| Pennsylvania | $125 | $7/yr | |
| Rhode Island | $150 | $50/yr | |
| South Carolina | $110 | $0 | No annual report |
| South Dakota | $150 | $50/yr | |
| Tennessee | $300 min | $300 min/yr | $50/member; min $300 |
| Texas | $300 | $0 (report only) | No annual fee but high formation cost |
| Utah | $54 | $18/yr | |
| Vermont | $125 | $35/yr | |
| Virginia | $100 | $50/yr | |
| Washington | $200 | $60/yr | |
| West Virginia | $100 | $25/yr | |
| Wisconsin | $130 | $25/yr | |
| Wyoming | $100 | $60 min/yr | Popular for asset protection; no state income tax |
A few standouts worth knowing: New York has a publication requirement — you have to publish a notice of your LLC formation in two local newspapers for six consecutive weeks, which typically costs $1,000–$2,000 in NYC. Nebraska has a similar publication requirement. California's $800/year franchise tax applies even if you made no money. New Mexico and Missouri have no annual report requirement at all, making them genuinely low-maintenance options.
Services like LegalZoom, Incfile, Northwest Registered Agent, and Rocket Lawyer will offer to form your LLC for anywhere from $0 to $300 on top of state fees. For a single-member LLC in a straightforward state, you almost certainly don't need them. The process is a 20-minute online form.
Here's how to do it yourself:
The one situation where a formation service is worth considering: if you're forming in a state with a publication requirement (New York, Nebraska), a service can sometimes handle the newspaper publishing coordination, which is genuinely annoying. Even then, compare costs — some local newspapers that handle LLC notices are much cheaper than what services charge to manage it.
And if your situation is genuinely complicated — multiple members, intellectual property you're contributing to the entity, an operating agreement with unusual terms — that's when a small-business attorney is worth the $300–$500 consultation fee. For a standard solo creative practice, the DIY path is well within reach.
Forget the jargon and ask yourself a few honest questions.
Choose a DBA (and stay a sole proprietor) if:
Form an LLC if:
"A DBA protects your name. An LLC protects your assets. If what you're worried about is losing your personal savings because of something that went wrong in the business, that's an LLC conversation."
These aren't mutually exclusive. Plenty of established makers run an LLC and then file a DBA under it so they can operate a second brand or product line without forming a whole new company. ("Hill Country Fiber Co., LLC, doing business as The Yarn Table.")
And nothing is permanent. A lot of creatives start as a sole proprietor with a DBA in year one, see the business take off, and convert to an LLC in year two or three when the income — and the risk — justify it. Starting small and leveling up is a completely normal path.
If you're not sure, the deciding factor is usually liability exposure and income level, not branding. Low risk and low income? A DBA keeps you lean and legitimate. Meaningful risk or meaningful money flowing through? The few hundred dollars an LLC costs is cheap insurance for your personal finances.
One caveat worth stating plainly: rules, fees, and name requirements vary a lot from state to state, and this post is general information, not legal advice. Before you file anything, it's worth a short conversation with a small-business attorney or a quick check of your own state's Secretary of State website — and a tax professional if the decision touches how you'll be taxed.
Whichever structure you choose, your business only works if your prices do. PriceMyWork helps creative professionals price their work with confidence — covering materials, time, overhead, platform fees, and the margin that actually keeps a studio running. Because the best legal structure in the world won't help a business that's underpricing itself.
Insurance is the least glamorous line item in any creative business — until the day it's the only thing standing between you and a bill you can't pay. A customer trips over your booth display and breaks a wrist. A handmade candle you sold cracks a buyer's marble countertop. A client claims the logo you designed copied someone else's and they got sued because of it. A pipe bursts in your studio and ruins six months of inventory.
None of that is likely on any given Tuesday. But "unlikely" and "impossible" aren't the same thing, and the whole point of insurance is to make a rare disaster survivable instead of business-ending.
This guide is general education, not insurance advice — a licensed agent should confirm what fits your specific work before you buy.
This trips a lot of creatives up, so it's worth saying plainly. If you read our post on DBAs and LLCs, you know an LLC shields your personal assets if your business gets sued. But the LLC itself doesn't pay the claim. If your business is found liable for $40,000 in damages, the LLC just means they come after the business's money instead of your house — and if the business can't cover it, the business is in serious trouble.
Insurance is what actually pays the claim. The LLC limits who is on the hook; insurance covers the cost. They work together. Neither replaces the other. A maker with an LLC but no insurance, and a maker with insurance but no LLC, each have a serious gap.
You don't need all of these. You need the ones that match how you work.
General liability (GL). The workhorse policy. It covers third-party bodily injury and property damage — someone gets hurt at your booth, your equipment damages a venue's floor, you knock over a client's expensive vase on a shoot. It usually also includes "personal and advertising injury," which covers things like libel, slander, and certain advertising mistakes. If you interact with the public, sell in person, or work on-site, this is almost always the foundation.
Product liability. Covers injury or damage caused by the things you make and sell after they leave your hands. The cracked countertop, the dye that gives someone a rash, the wall hanging whose mount fails and damages a buyer's home. Anyone selling physical goods — especially anything worn, used, or applied to skin — should take this seriously. It's often bundled into a maker's general liability policy, but confirm it's actually included.
Professional liability (errors & omissions / E&O). This is the one service-based creatives need — designers, photographers, illustrators, consultants, web folks. It covers claims that your professional work caused a client financial harm: a missed deliverable, a costly mistake, or an allegation of copyright or trademark infringement in work you produced. For creatives whose main risk is the work itself rather than someone tripping in a studio, E&O often matters more than general liability.
Commercial property. Covers your owned or rented space and the tools, equipment, supplies, and inventory inside it, against things like fire, theft, and storms. Important catch: property insurance generally only covers items at the insured location — not gear you've taken on the road.
Inland marine / business personal property. The fix for that catch. This covers your tools, equipment, and inventory when they're in transit or off-site — driving to a craft fair, shooting on location, dropping work at a gallery. If a meaningful chunk of your work happens away from a fixed studio, this fills the gap that standard property coverage leaves open.
Business Owner's Policy (BOP). Not a separate coverage — a bundle. A BOP combines general liability and commercial property (often with business interruption) into one package, usually priced lower than buying those pieces separately. For an established creative with a studio and real revenue, a BOP is frequently the most cost-effective starting point.
Business interruption / business income. Covers lost income and ongoing expenses if a covered disaster forces you to stop operating. Often included inside a BOP. Worth having once the business is your actual livelihood and a few weeks dark would hurt.
Cyber liability. Covers data breaches, payment fraud, and hacking. Relevant if you store customer data, run an online shop, or take card payments. Usually a low-cost add-on.
Workers' compensation. If you hire employees — even part-time — most states require this by law. It covers workplace injuries and lost wages. The moment you bring on help, look into your state's rules.
Event / vendor (special event) insurance. Short-term general liability for a single show, fair, market, or pop-up. This is the policy that gets most makers into insurance in the first place, because so many venues require it.
Skip the abstract worrying and look for these concrete triggers. If any apply, it's time:
"Insurance isn't a reward you earn once you're 'big enough.' For many creatives the first serious policy is the per-event one they buy because a craft fair demanded it — and that's exactly right."
"The venue's insurance covers me." Almost never true. A venue's policy protects the venue for its own operations. As a vendor or exhibitor, you're responsible for your own liability — which is precisely why so many venues require you to carry coverage and name them as additional insured.
"I have an LLC, so I'm protected." The LLC limits your personal exposure; it doesn't pay the claim. Insurance does the paying.
The good news: buying creative-business insurance online is genuinely fast now. Many of these will quote you in minutes and issue a Certificate of Insurance instantly — which matters when an event is next weekend.
For handmade makers, artists, and craft vendors:
For on-demand / one-off gigs and events:
For service-based creatives (designers, photographers, consultants):
For full-service / established studios wanting a BOP:
Comparison marketplaces: Insureon and Simply Business let you fill out one application and see quotes from multiple insurers — worth it for less common creative niches. Get quotes from at least three providers before you buy. Coverage definitions and exclusions vary more than the prices do, and the cheapest policy is a bad deal if it excludes the exact risk you're trying to cover.
Here's the part creatives skip: insurance is a real cost of doing business, and it belongs in your prices — not paid out of profit as an afterthought. A per-event policy is part of the cost of doing that event. An annual premium is part of your studio overhead, the same as rent or software. If you're not accounting for it, you're quietly underpricing your work by exactly that amount.
The clean way to handle it: take your annual insurance cost, fold it into your overhead, and make sure your hourly rate and product prices actually carry it. For a single show, add the event policy straight into that show's cost before you decide whether it's worth attending.
You don't need every policy on this list — you need the ones that match your real risks. If you sell in person or at events, general liability (often with product liability) is the floor. If you provide professional creative services, prioritize E&O. If you have a studio full of equipment, add property and inland marine. And the moment a venue or client asks for a COI, that decision is already made for you.
Start with the trigger closest to you, get three quotes from reputable online providers, read what's actually excluded, and build the cost into your prices so it pays for itself. Insurance is overhead, and overhead only works when it's priced in. PriceMyWork helps creative professionals account for the real costs of running a studio — materials, time, fees, and yes, insurance — so your prices actually protect the business you're insuring.
This guide is general information, not licensed insurance, legal, or tax advice. Coverage needs, requirements, and prices vary by state, by carrier, and by the specifics of your business — confirm with a licensed insurance agent before purchasing.
There's a piece of advice that gets passed around creative business circles like gospel: "Once you start making real money, switch to an S-corp and you'll save a fortune on taxes." Like most gospel, it's partly true, partly oversimplified, and occasionally expensive when followed at the wrong time.
This post breaks down what an S-corp election actually does to your tax bill, why it can save self-employed creatives real money, what it costs in administration, and — the part most people skip — how to tell when you've actually crossed the line where it makes sense.
A quick but important note: this is general education, not tax advice. The numbers below are accurate for 2026, but your situation has details a blog post can't see. Run the real decision by a CPA or enrolled agent before you file anything.
When you're a sole proprietor or a standard (default-taxed) LLC, every dollar of your business profit is hit with self-employment tax on top of regular income tax.
Self-employment tax for 2026 is 15.3%, made up of two pieces:
(High earners pay an extra 0.9% Medicare surtax above $200,000 single / $250,000 married filing jointly. And you do get to deduct half of your SE tax when calculating income — a small but real offset.)
The reason this stings: as an employee, you split that 15.3% with your employer 50/50. As your own boss, you're both the employee and the employer, so you pay the whole thing. On $100,000 of profit, that's roughly $14,000–$15,000 in self-employment tax before you've paid a dollar of regular income tax.
First, clear up a common confusion: an S-corp is not a different kind of business entity. It's a tax election. You stay an LLC (or a corporation), and you file paperwork — IRS Form 2553 — telling the IRS to tax you under Subchapter S rules. Your LLC is still an LLC. Only its tax treatment changes.
Here's the move. Once you're an S-corp, the IRS expects you to split your income into two buckets:
So instead of paying 15.3% on all your profit, you only pay it on the salary portion. Here's a simplified illustration at $120,000 net profit:
That gap is the whole pitch. Multiply it across several years and it's meaningful money.
You cannot pay yourself a $5,000 salary and take $115,000 as a tax-free distribution. The IRS knows that game and audits for it.
You're required to pay yourself a reasonable salary — what someone would actually earn doing your job in your market. For a working fiber artist, designer, or photographer, "reasonable" means roughly what you'd pay an experienced person to do the creative and operational work you do. Lowball it and you risk the IRS reclassifying your distributions as wages, plus back taxes and penalties.
This is why the savings shrink at lower income. If your entire profit is a reasonable salary, there's nothing left to take as a distribution, and the election saves you nothing while costing you plenty in paperwork.
There's also an interaction worth knowing: the Qualified Business Income (QBI) deduction — Section 199A, which lets eligible pass-through owners deduct up to 20% of qualified business income and was made permanent starting in 2026 under recent tax legislation — generally excludes the W-2 wages you pay yourself. So the higher the salary you run through an S-corp, the smaller your QBI base may be. The S-corp salary decision and the QBI deduction pull against each other, which is exactly the kind of thing a CPA earns their fee modeling out.
The tax savings are real, but they aren't free. Becoming an S-corp turns your tidy little Schedule C into a small company with employer obligations:
Add it up and the realistic ongoing cost of running an S-corp is often $1,500–$4,000 a year in payroll and tax-prep fees. That number is the hurdle your tax savings have to clear before the election makes you money.
The S-corp election makes sense when your annual savings on self-employment tax comfortably exceed the annual cost of running the S-corp — with enough margin that it's worth the added complexity and rigidity.
"The cleanest way to decide: estimate your realistic reasonable salary, subtract it from your expected annual profit, multiply the leftover by roughly 15.3%, and compare that to $1,500–$4,000 in yearly running costs."
If the savings beat the costs with room to spare across multiple years — it's probably time. If it's close, it's probably not yet.
You need an LLC (or C-Corp) first — you can't make the S-Corp election as a sole proprietor. Once you have your LLC, file IRS Form 2553. The deadline is March 15 of the tax year for which you want the election to apply, or within 75 days of forming your LLC. Late elections are sometimes available, but don't count on it.
Then take those numbers to a CPA or enrolled agent and let them check your work before you file. The election has timing rules and state-specific wrinkles, and getting a professional opinion on a five-figure decision is the cheapest money you'll spend all year.
Knowing whether you're ready for an S-corp starts with knowing your real numbers — your true profit after materials, time, overhead, and fees. That's exactly what PriceMyWork is built to surface. Price your work right first; the tax strategy follows the profit.
There's a scene in Schitt's Creek where David Rose, with complete and unshakeable confidence, announces he's going to "write something off." When pushed on whether he actually understands what that means, it becomes clear that David's mental model of a write-off is roughly: you spend money, you tell the government, and then... the government handles it? The expense just disappears? The details are fuzzy, but the confidence is immaculate.
Honestly? A lot of self-employed creatives operate from a version of David's understanding. They know deductions are good. They know they're supposed to "keep receipts." Beyond that, things get hazy fast.
This guide is the un-hazy version. Here's what a deduction actually does, which ones apply to independent makers and freelancers, which ones people routinely miss, and what you actually can't write off no matter how creatively you frame it.
Standard disclaimer: this is general education, not tax advice. Your specific situation has details a blog post can't see — run your deductions by a CPA or enrolled agent before you file.
A tax deduction reduces your taxable income — not your tax bill directly. The tax savings depend on your tax rate.
If you're in the 22% federal income tax bracket, a $1,000 deduction saves you $220 in federal income tax — not $1,000. You still spent the $1,000. The government didn't cover it. What happened is that $1,000 of your income was shielded from being taxed at 22%, which is genuinely valuable, but it's not magic.
Where deductions get more powerful for self-employed creatives: you're paying both income tax and self-employment tax (15.3%) on your net profit. Most deductions reduce both. A $1,000 deduction at 22% income tax + 15.3% SE tax saves you closer to $370. That's real money — just not a full write-off in the David Rose sense.
If you use part of your home regularly and exclusively for business, you can deduct it. "Regularly and exclusively" is the IRS's phrase, and they mean it — the space can't double as a guest bedroom or a family TV room.
Two calculation methods:
This deduction also opens the door to deducting a proportional share of your internet bill as a home office expense, rather than just as a general business expense.
Everything you buy to make the things you sell is deductible — clay, yarn, pigments, fabric, resin, leather, wire, paper, ink. So are consumable studio supplies: sandpaper, brushes, packaging materials, shipping supplies.
If you carry inventory (you make things in batches and sell them over time), there's a nuance: you generally deduct the cost of goods sold rather than all materials purchased. Materials sitting unsold in your studio are inventory, not yet a deduction. For most small makers, this distinction doesn't create a big difference — but it's worth knowing so your bookkeeping tracks it correctly.
Big equipment purchases — a kiln, a loom, a camera, a sewing machine, a computer, a laser cutter — can be deducted in the year you buy them rather than depreciated slowly over several years, thanks to Section 179 of the tax code.
The Section 179 limit is over $1 million (it adjusts annually for inflation), so for most independent creatives it effectively means: buy a piece of equipment for the business, deduct the full cost this year. The equipment must be used more than 50% for business; if it's mixed personal/business use, you can only deduct the business-use percentage.
Bonus depreciation rules have been phasing down in recent years — check current IRS guidance or ask your CPA for the current percentage, since it changes annually.
When you calculate your taxes as a self-employed person, you get to deduct half of your self-employment tax from your gross income before calculating income tax. This is built into Schedule SE, but many creatives don't realize it's there or why.
The logic: employers deduct their half of payroll taxes as a business expense. Since you're your own employer, the IRS gives you the equivalent deduction. On $80,000 of net profit, the SE tax is roughly $11,304. Half of that — $5,652 — comes off your gross income before income tax is calculated. It doesn't reduce your SE tax bill, but it reduces your income tax bill.
If you pay for your own health insurance (and you're not eligible for coverage through a spouse's employer plan), you can deduct 100% of your premiums — medical, dental, and vision — as an adjustment to income. This is one of the most valuable deductions available to self-employed people and one of the most commonly missed.
The deduction can't exceed your net self-employment income for the year, and there are some rules around marketplace plans and premium tax credits that interact with it. But in a straightforward situation — you're self-employed, you buy your own insurance, no employer coverage available — this deduction is significant and fully above-the-line (meaning it reduces your adjusted gross income regardless of whether you itemize).
Contributing to a self-employed retirement account is both good financial planning and a substantial deduction. Your options:
A $10,000 SEP-IRA contribution at a combined 22% income + 15.3% SE tax rate saves roughly $3,700 in taxes and builds your retirement simultaneously. This is as close to free money as tax strategy gets.
Driving to craft fairs, markets, supply stores, client meetings, gallery drop-offs, and shipping runs is deductible. Two methods:
You cannot deduct commuting (home to a regular office). But for most independent creatives who work from home, almost any business-related driving qualifies. Keep a mileage log — date, destination, business purpose, miles — either in a notebook or a free app like MileIQ or Everlance.
Participating in a craft fair in another city? The travel expenses are deductible — airfare or mileage, lodging, and 50% of meals (the 50% limit on meals is a firm IRS rule for business meals generally). The trip must be primarily for business; if you tack personal days onto a business trip, you can only deduct the business portion of lodging and meals.
Booth fees, display equipment, and anything you buy specifically for a show are also fully deductible as ordinary business expenses.
Courses, workshops, books, online classes, and educational subscriptions that maintain or improve your skills in your current trade are deductible. An advanced weaving workshop, a business course for makers, a photography masterclass — if it's directly related to your creative practice, it counts.
Note: education that qualifies you for a new career doesn't qualify. A ceramicist taking a ceramics course is deductible. The same ceramicist taking a course to become a physical therapist is not.
Adobe Creative Cloud, Squarespace, Shopify, email marketing tools, Etsy listing fees, shipping software, accounting software (QuickBooks, Wave, FreshBooks), project management apps used for the business — all deductible. So are Etsy transaction fees and platform commissions, which are easy to overlook because they come out automatically before you even see the money.
Your general liability premium, E&O insurance, and any other business-specific coverage is fully deductible. Business bank account fees are deductible. Your accountant's fee for preparing your business taxes is deductible (though not the portion allocated to your personal return). Attorney fees for business contracts, trademark filings, or business formation are deductible. Professional membership dues — craft guilds, industry associations — are deductible.
You don't need a perfect system, but you need something. The IRS can audit returns up to three years back (six years if they suspect substantial underreporting). For every deduction, you need to be able to show: what you spent, when, on what, and the business purpose.
A simple approach that works: one business bank account and one business credit card, used exclusively for business expenses. At year end, your statements are your records. Supplement with a folder (physical or digital) of receipts for larger purchases. Log mileage in a dedicated app. That's genuinely sufficient for most independent creatives.
"The best tax strategy is accurate records, not aggressive claims. A deduction you can defend is worth ten you can't."
Every deduction on this list works better when your prices account for the real cost of running your business. PriceMyWork helps you build overhead — including taxes, insurance, and all the expenses above — into your pricing from the start, so the deductions you take are reducing a tax bill that was already calculated correctly.
This post is general education, not tax advice. Tax law changes, income thresholds vary, and your specific situation matters. Work with a CPA or enrolled agent to make sure you're applying these correctly to your return.
Wholesale is appealing on paper: a boutique orders 24 units at once instead of you selling them one at a time. Volume, predictability, and the credibility of being "carried" somewhere — all real benefits. But wholesale has a math problem that sinks a lot of small makers, and it's better to understand it before you say yes to your first wholesale inquiry.
The short version: wholesale only works if your retail pricing was built correctly in the first place. Most makers' retail prices weren't.
In a standard wholesale relationship, a retailer or boutique buys your goods outright at a discounted price — typically 40-60% off your retail price — and then resells them at full retail. They take on the inventory risk, the selling effort, and the customer relationship. You get paid upfront regardless of whether they sell.
Consignment is a different arrangement: you place goods with a retailer but retain ownership until they sell, then split the revenue. Consignment is generally less favorable for makers — you bear the inventory risk, you often can't price-control effectively, and unsold goods can tie up your capital for months. This guide focuses on true wholesale.
Most boutiques and retailers use keystone pricing: they pay half of what they'll charge the end customer. A candle they retail at $32 means they expect to pay you $16. A print they sell for $80 means they need to pay $40 or less.
This feels like they're taking a lot, and they are — but it covers their costs too. A retail operation has rent, staff, inventory carrying costs, shrinkage, and often slow months. Their margins aren't as fat as they look from the outside.
The implication for you: if you want to wholesale, your retail price needs to be set high enough that half of it still covers your costs and leaves you a margin. If your $32 candle retails because that's what the market will bear, and it costs you $18 to make, wholesaling at $16 means you're losing $2 on every candle you sell to a retailer.
Here's the math that makes wholesale sustainable: your retail price needs to be at least 4x your direct cost of goods.
That $20 wholesale margin needs to cover your overhead — studio, equipment, packaging, your time on admin — and leave you actual profit. Depending on your business, you might need a 5x or 6x multiplier to make wholesale genuinely worth it.
Run this exercise on your current products. Many small makers discover their retail prices aren't high enough to support wholesale. That's not a reason not to pursue wholesale — it's a reason to fix your retail pricing first.
Your time has fixed costs. Writing up an invoice, packaging an order, and shipping it takes roughly the same amount of time whether it's 2 units or 20. Minimum order quantities (MOQs) protect you from wholesale orders that cost more to process than they're worth.
A common starting point: minimum first order of $200-$500 at wholesale cost, minimum reorder of $150-$250. This varies a lot by product — a jewelry maker has different economics than someone selling large ceramics. The right MOQ is whatever makes your time per order actually worth it.
Consider also offering a first-order discount to lower the barrier for a new stockist, with standard terms on reorders. Getting a buyer to say yes to the first order is the hard part — reorders are usually easier.
A wholesale relationship without clear terms is a future disagreement waiting to happen. Even a simple one-page terms sheet protects both parties. Cover:
When a buyer for a boutique or gift shop is evaluating your work, they're thinking about their customer and their floor space, not just product quality. A few things that matter more than you might expect:
Consignment can make sense in specific circumstances: getting your work into a venue for visibility before you're ready to produce wholesale volume, testing a new product in a retail environment, or working with a highly curated gallery where the placement itself is the value.
It generally doesn't make sense as a substitute for wholesale with a retailer who should be buying outright — that's usually a sign they don't believe they can sell it, which is useful information. If a shop is only willing to take your work on consignment, either the price point is wrong, the product isn't right for their customer, or the shop isn't a good fit.
Before saying yes to a wholesale inquiry, calculate this: at their expected wholesale price, what is your effective hourly rate? Include materials, labor, packaging, and a proportional share of overhead. If the hourly rate is lower than your target, the answer is no — or you raise your prices first.
Wholesale at good margins is genuinely good business. Wholesale at bad margins is a way to stay very busy while not getting ahead. Use our Item Pricing Calculator to run these numbers on any product before you commit.
Custom commissioned work is where the most undercharging happens. It's not because the maker doesn't value their work — it's because custom projects are genuinely hard to scope, and most makers underestimate what they're agreeing to until they're already halfway through.
A commission that looked like a 5-hour project turns into 9. The client wanted something slightly different than what they described. There were three rounds of back-and-forth before you even started making. The materials cost more than estimated because they asked for a specific colorway you had to source. By the time you deliver, you've charged for half the work you did.
This guide is about building a pricing framework that accounts for how commissions actually work, not how they look at first inquiry.
When you make the same mug 30 times, you optimize. Materials are bought in bulk, your hands know exactly what to do, and production time per unit drops significantly. Custom work is the opposite — every project starts fresh. That's the value to the client (a one-of-a-kind piece made to their specifications), and it's why custom work should carry a price premium over production work, not a discount.
The comparison that helps: a custom suit from a tailor costs more than a suit off the rack at the same quality level. No one expects a bespoke item to be cheaper. Frame your commissions the same way, because that's exactly what they are.
When estimating a commission price, most makers count materials and the obvious labor of making the piece. The parts they miss:
There are two common approaches to quoting custom work: flat project pricing and hourly rate. Both work; the right one depends on your medium and how well you can scope work upfront.
Flat project pricing works well when you have enough experience with similar commissions to know the range of time involved. Build in every cost item listed above, use your target hourly rate for all labor, add your materials at actual cost, and then add a buffer — typically 20% — on top of the labor estimate for the unpredictability premium. The client pays a fixed price. You bear the time risk, which is why the buffer needs to be real.
Hourly plus materials works well for complex or open-ended commissions where the scope genuinely can't be pinned down in advance — custom furniture, involved illustration work, anything requiring significant design iteration. Give the client an estimate range upfront and commit to communicating if you approach the upper end. Some clients dislike the uncertainty; others prefer knowing they're paying for exactly the work involved.
A non-refundable deposit of 30-50% before you start any work protects you in two ways: it covers your materials cost so you're not personally financing the project, and it filters out non-serious inquiries. A person who balks at a deposit was likely going to be a difficult client throughout.
The framing matters. Don't call it "just a deposit" or apologize for it. It's standard practice: "My commissions require a 50% deposit to reserve your spot and cover materials. The remaining balance is due on delivery. Does that work for you?" Said like that, almost everyone says yes.
Scope creep is when a client adds to what they originally asked for — often in small increments that each seem minor but collectively add hours to the project. "Can you make it a slightly different shade?" "Actually, can we add a small inscription?" "I showed my partner and they wondered if we could tweak the dimensions a bit."
The solution isn't to be rigid — it's to have a clear revision policy and stick to it. A common structure: your quoted price includes two rounds of revisions. Additional revisions or changes after the design is approved are billed at your hourly rate. Put this in writing before the project starts.
When scope creep happens anyway (it will), address it at the moment. "I'd love to make that change — that'll add about X hours to the project, so I'll send an updated quote. Should I go ahead?" Most clients respect this. Those who push back are telling you something important about how the rest of the relationship will go.
For commissions over a certain threshold — $300, $500, whatever feels significant to you — a simple written contract is worth having. It doesn't need to be complex. Cover: what you're making, the timeline, payment terms including the deposit, revision policy, and what happens if either party needs to cancel. This protects both of you and also signals that you take your work seriously.
For smaller commissions, a clear written quote that the client confirms in writing (even just "yes, this works" by email) provides most of the same protection without the overhead of a formal contract.
A custom commission for a design that challenges you — something you haven't made before, something technically complex, something that requires significant creative investment — warrants a complexity premium on top of your standard rates. This isn't price gouging; it's correctly pricing the rarity and difficulty of the work.
A good rule of thumb: if a commission would require you to develop a new technique, solve a problem you haven't solved before, or produce something at a level that stretches your skills, add 25-50% above your standard formula. That premium is what makes it worth your time and what communicates the value correctly to the client.
Use the Item Pricing Calculator to build your commission base price — it'll help you start from the real cost floor before you apply any of these adjustments.
There's a financial advantage that most freelancers never claim, even though it's sitting right there in the tax code. While a salaried employee can defer a maximum of $23,500 into a 401(k) in 2025, a self-employed person using the right retirement account structure can shelter well over $70,000 from federal income taxes in a single year. That's not a loophole. It's the system working exactly as intended — and most independent creatives leave it almost entirely untouched.
This guide covers every retirement plan available to self-employed people, what each one costs to set up and maintain, how much you can contribute, and how to choose the right one based on where you are right now.
When you work for a company, your employer typically sets up a retirement plan and you opt in. The friction is low. When you're self-employed, nothing gets set up unless you set it up yourself — which means most independent workers end up relying entirely on a regular taxable brokerage account or just not saving at all.
The tax math on this is significant. If you're in the 22% federal bracket and you contribute $15,000 to a pre-tax retirement account, you save $3,300 in federal taxes that year. Over a career, the compounding effect of investing pre-tax dollars versus post-tax dollars is enormous. The money that would have gone to the IRS stays in your account, earning returns for decades.
Before getting into the self-employment-specific plans, it's worth understanding where most people start. Anyone with earned income can contribute to an IRA — an Individual Retirement Account that you open yourself at a brokerage like Fidelity, Vanguard, or Schwab.
For 2025, the annual contribution limit is $7,000, or $8,000 if you're 50 or older. That's the combined limit across all your IRAs — you can split it between a Traditional and Roth, but you can't contribute $7,000 to each.
A Traditional IRA gives you a potential tax deduction on your contribution now, and you pay taxes when you withdraw in retirement. A Roth IRA is funded with after-tax money — no deduction today, but all future growth and withdrawals are completely tax-free. Roth IRAs also have income phase-out limits: in 2025, the ability to contribute directly phases out between $150,000–$165,000 for single filers.
The IRA is a fine starting point, but $7,000 is a relatively low ceiling. If you want to save meaningfully for retirement as a freelancer, you'll need one of the plans below.
A SEP-IRA (Simplified Employee Pension) is probably the most popular retirement account for self-employed people, and for good reason: it's simple to open, has almost no administrative overhead, and allows contributions of up to 25% of net self-employment income, capped at $70,000 in 2025.
You can open a SEP-IRA at any major brokerage in about 20 minutes. There are no annual filing requirements with the IRS. You can contribute any amount up to the limit each year — or nothing at all — with no penalties for skipping. The contribution deadline is your tax filing deadline including extensions, so if you file an extension, you have until October 15 to fund the account for the prior tax year.
The main downside of the SEP-IRA is that it only allows employer contributions — there's no employee contribution side. This matters because it limits how much lower-income freelancers can contribute relative to higher-income ones. If you made $40,000 net, your max SEP contribution is around $7,400. The Solo 401(k) handles this differently.
If you have employees (other than a spouse), any employee who has worked for you three of the last five years must receive an equal percentage contribution to their own SEP-IRA. This makes the SEP less attractive for anyone running a small studio with staff.
The Solo 401(k) — also called an Individual 401(k) or One-Participant 401(k) — is available to self-employed people with no full-time employees other than a spouse. It's more complex to set up than a SEP-IRA, but it has a significantly higher effective contribution ceiling at lower income levels, and it comes with features the SEP-IRA lacks entirely.
Here's why it's so powerful: a Solo 401(k) has two contribution buckets.
The first is the employee contribution: you can defer up to $23,500 in 2025 (or $31,000 if you're 50+) regardless of your income level, as long as you have that much in net earnings. This is a flat dollar amount, not a percentage.
The second is the employer contribution: in your role as your own "employer," you can contribute up to 25% of compensation on top of the employee deferral, up to the combined limit of $70,000.
The Solo 401(k) also unlocks a few features the SEP doesn't have:
Roth option. Many Solo 401(k) providers offer a Roth contribution option, letting you make after-tax employee deferrals that grow and withdraw tax-free. This is particularly valuable for younger freelancers who expect to be in a higher bracket later.
Loans. You can borrow up to 50% of the account balance (max $50,000) from your Solo 401(k), which isn't possible with a SEP-IRA. This can serve as a backstop in a slow quarter, though it's not something to rely on.
Catch-up contributions. At age 50+, the $7,500 catch-up applies to the employee deferral side, giving you a meaningful boost in the years before retirement.
If you have employees beyond a spouse, the SIMPLE IRA (Savings Incentive Match Plan for Employees) is worth considering. It's designed for businesses with 100 or fewer employees and has a lower administrative burden than a full 401(k).
Employees can contribute up to $16,500 in 2025 (up from $16,000). As the employer, you're required to either match employee contributions dollar-for-dollar up to 3% of compensation, or make a flat 2% contribution for all eligible employees regardless of whether they contribute.
The SIMPLE IRA has a uniquely punishing early withdrawal rule: if you withdraw within the first two years of participation, the penalty is 25% (versus the standard 10% for other plans). This is worth knowing before you open one.
For most solo freelancers or two-person studios, the Solo 401(k) is the better choice. The SIMPLE IRA makes more sense once you have multiple employees and need a plan that's easier to administer than a full 401(k).
If you're consistently earning $200,000+ per year and want to save aggressively for retirement, a Defined Benefit Plan — essentially a personal pension — lets you shelter significantly more than any of the above. Contribution limits are based on the benefit you're targeting in retirement, and annual contributions can exceed $200,000 in some cases.
The tradeoff is complexity: you're required to make contributions every year regardless of income fluctuation, and you must hire an actuary to calculate the required contribution amount annually. Setup and maintenance costs typically run $1,500–$3,000 per year. This is a tool for a very specific situation: high, stable income and a desire to defer as much as legally possible.
Some high-earning freelancers pair a Defined Benefit Plan with a Solo 401(k) for maximum deferral. This is a strategy worth discussing with a CPA or financial advisor before pursuing.
| Plan | 2025 Max | Roth Option | Employees OK? | Annual Admin |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Traditional / Roth IRA | $7,000 | Yes (Roth IRA) | Yes | None |
| SEP-IRA | ~$70,000 | No | Only if you match them | No separate annual filing (no Form 5500); contributions reported on your tax return |
| Solo 401(k) | ~$70,000 | Yes | No (spouse only) | Form 5500-EZ once balance exceeds $250k (due July 31, $250/day late penalty) |
| SIMPLE IRA | $16,500 | No | Yes (≤100) | Annual employee notice required; mandatory employer contributions every year |
| Defined Benefit | $200,000+ | No | Yes | Actuary required annually + Form 5500 filing; ~$1,500–$3,000/yr in fees |
Just starting out, income under $50,000. Open a Roth IRA first ($7,000/year) while your income is low enough to qualify. If you want to save more, add a Solo 401(k) — you can front-load the $23,500 employee deferral even at relatively modest income.
Earning $50,000–$150,000, no employees. The Solo 401(k) almost always wins here because the flat employee deferral lets you save more at this income range than a SEP. Open one by December 31 of the year you want to start.
Earning $150,000+ with variable income and no employees. Either the Solo 401(k) or SEP-IRA work well. The SEP is simpler and has a later contribution deadline, which is useful when your income varies and you don't know your final number until you file. The Solo 401(k) gives you more flexibility via the Roth option and higher contributions at lower income years.
You have employees. SIMPLE IRA or a full 401(k). Talk to a CPA — the employer match obligation and plan costs matter here.
The deadlines vary by plan and matter more than people realize:
SEP-IRA: Can be opened and funded up to your tax filing deadline, including extensions (October 15 for most people). This is the most flexible deadline of any plan.
Solo 401(k): Must be established by December 31 of the plan year. Contributions can be made up to the tax filing deadline, but the account must exist before year-end. This catches people every year — if you realize in February that you should have opened one the prior year, you've missed the window.
SIMPLE IRA: Must be set up by October 1 for it to be effective for that calendar year.
IRA (Traditional or Roth): Can be opened and funded up to the April 15 tax deadline with no extension needed.
If you don't have any retirement account open yet, start with a Roth IRA at Fidelity, Vanguard, or Schwab — it takes about 15 minutes, there's no minimum to open, and you can fund it up to $7,000 for 2025 before April 15, 2026.
If you're already earning enough that $7,000 feels small relative to your tax bill, open a Solo 401(k) before December 31 of this year. Most major brokerages have simple online applications. You won't regret it — the contribution limits are high, and every dollar you put in reduces your taxable income dollar-for-dollar.
And if your situation is complicated — multiple income streams, employees, or income over $150,000 — spend one hour with a CPA or fee-only financial advisor who works with freelancers. The cost of that consultation pays for itself many times over in tax savings.
Use the Tax Set-Aside Calculator to figure out how much of each payment to hold back for taxes — and how much runway you have left to put toward retirement.
There is exactly one account in the U.S. tax code that gives you a tax deduction when you put money in, lets that money grow tax-free, and lets you withdraw it tax-free when you spend it. That account is a Health Savings Account — an HSA. For self-employed people who qualify, it's one of the most powerful financial tools available, and it's dramatically underused.
This guide covers everything you need to know about HSAs as a freelancer: what they are, whether you qualify, how much you can contribute, what you can spend the money on, and the long-term strategy that turns an HSA into a secondary retirement account.
An HSA is a personal savings account specifically for medical expenses. You open it, you own it, and it follows you from year to year regardless of what health insurance plan you're on. Unlike a Flexible Spending Account (FSA), the money never expires — it rolls over indefinitely and earns investment returns.
The "triple tax advantage" that gets mentioned a lot is real and worth understanding clearly:
Contributions are tax-deductible. Every dollar you put into an HSA reduces your taxable income, just like a traditional IRA or SEP-IRA contribution. As a self-employed person, this applies even if you don't itemize your deductions — it's an "above-the-line" deduction.
Growth is tax-free. Most HSA providers let you invest your balance in mutual funds or ETFs once you hit a certain threshold (often $1,000–$2,000). Any interest, dividends, or capital gains inside the account are completely sheltered from taxes.
Withdrawals for qualified medical expenses are tax-free. When you spend HSA funds on a qualifying medical expense, you pay zero taxes on that withdrawal — not income tax, not capital gains. The money goes in pre-tax, grows tax-free, and comes out tax-free if used for healthcare.
To contribute to an HSA, you must be enrolled in a High Deductible Health Plan (HDHP). The IRS defines this annually. For 2025, an HDHP must have a minimum deductible of $1,650 for individuals or $3,300 for families, and maximum out-of-pocket limits of $8,300 (individual) or $16,600 (family).
For self-employed people, HDHPs are widely available on the ACA marketplace and through private insurers. They tend to have lower monthly premiums than traditional PPO plans, which is why many freelancers end up on them anyway — and therefore HSA-eligible without realizing it.
You cannot contribute to an HSA if you're covered by Medicare, enrolled in TRICARE, or claimed as a dependent on someone else's taxes. You also can't contribute if your spouse has a general-purpose FSA — that coverage disqualifies you even if the FSA isn't in your name.
The IRS sets annual HSA contribution limits. For 2025:
Self-only coverage: $4,300
Family coverage: $8,550
If you're 55 or older, you can contribute an additional $1,000 catch-up contribution on top of these limits.
Contributions can be made any time during the year and up to the tax filing deadline (April 15) for the prior tax year — similar to an IRA. So if you realize in March that you should have maxed your HSA the prior year, you can still do it before filing.
One nuance: if you weren't HSA-eligible for the full year — say, you switched to an HDHP in July — your contribution limit is prorated by the number of months you were enrolled. There's a "last-month rule" that lets you contribute the full year's amount if you're eligible on December 1, but you must remain HSA-eligible through the following December or you'll owe taxes and a penalty on the excess.
The IRS list of qualified medical expenses is longer than most people expect. The standard categories include:
Doctor visits, specialist appointments, urgent care, and emergency room visits. Prescription medications and most over-the-counter medicines (the CARES Act permanently expanded this in 2020). Dental care including cleanings, fillings, crowns, orthodontia, and implants. Vision care including exams, prescription glasses, contact lenses, and LASIK. Mental health services including therapy and psychiatric care. Chiropractic, acupuncture, and certain alternative treatments. Medical equipment and supplies — crutches, blood pressure monitors, CPAP machines. Long-term care insurance premiums (up to a limit based on age). And COBRA or health insurance premiums paid while receiving unemployment.
As a self-employed person, you can use HSA funds to pay health insurance premiums, but only if you're receiving unemployment benefits. The self-employed health insurance deduction (which lets you deduct 100% of health insurance premiums) is separate from the HSA.
Before age 65: the withdrawal is taxed as ordinary income plus a 20% penalty. That's a steep hit — it turns what was a pre-tax dollar into a taxed dollar with an extra penalty on top.
After age 65: the 20% penalty disappears. You can withdraw HSA funds for any reason and simply pay ordinary income tax on it — exactly like a traditional IRA or 401(k) withdrawal. This is the key insight behind the "HSA as a retirement account" strategy.
Many financial planners advocate treating an HSA less like a healthcare spending account and more like a stealth retirement account — particularly if you can afford to pay out-of-pocket medical expenses from other funds now.
The logic: if you're 35 years old and you contribute $4,300 this year but pay your medical bills from your checking account instead, that $4,300 stays invested in your HSA and compounds tax-free for 30 years. At a 7% average annual return, it grows to roughly $32,700. When you're 65, you can withdraw it tax-free for medical expenses (which will be substantial), or pay income tax only if you use it for other things.
The critical piece that makes this work: you can reimburse yourself later for past medical expenses. The IRS has no time limit on HSA reimbursements, as long as the expense occurred after you opened the account. This means you can pay a $500 doctor's bill out of pocket today, save the receipt, and reimburse yourself from your HSA in 20 years — tax-free. Some people keep a spreadsheet of lifetime medical expenses for exactly this purpose.
If you're self-employed, your HSA is entirely separate from your health insurance — you open it yourself, unlike employees who often get one through payroll. This actually gives you more choice.
Fidelity HSA is widely considered the best option: no account fees, no minimum to invest, and access to Fidelity's full fund lineup including zero-expense-ratio index funds. There's no reason not to use it if you're self-employed.
Lively is another strong option with clean UX and free investing via TD Ameritrade/Schwab.
HealthEquity and Optum Bank are often used when your insurance company partners with them, but they typically have higher fees and more limited investment options than Fidelity or Lively.
The key things to look for: no monthly maintenance fees, low or no investment threshold, access to index funds with expense ratios under 0.15%.
As a self-employed person, you generally cannot use a standard FSA (Flexible Spending Account) — FSAs are employer-sponsored benefits and require an employer to set them up. If you have no employees, there's no FSA available to you.
The exception is a Self-Employed Health Reimbursement Arrangement (HRA), which has some overlap in function, but these are much less common and have different rules. For most solo freelancers, the HSA is the only tax-advantaged healthcare savings vehicle available.
If you do have employees, you can establish a QSEHRA (Qualified Small Employer HRA) to reimburse employees for health insurance premiums and medical expenses. This is worth looking into if you're growing a small team.
One of the other major tax benefits for self-employed people is the ability to deduct 100% of health insurance premiums — not as a business expense, but as an above-the-line personal deduction. This is separate from and stackable with the HSA deduction.
In practice: if you pay $6,000/year in health insurance premiums for an HDHP and contribute $4,300 to an HSA, you can deduct both — up to $10,300 off your taxable income, with no itemization required. At the 22% bracket, that's roughly $2,265 in immediate federal tax savings, not counting state taxes.
If you're currently on an HDHP and don't have an HSA open, open one immediately — you can retroactively contribute for the months you've been eligible this year, up to your prorated limit. Go to Fidelity's website and open an HSA account. It takes about 10 minutes.
If you're not sure whether your current health plan qualifies as an HDHP, check the deductible and out-of-pocket maximum against the IRS thresholds for 2025. Your insurance card or summary of benefits will list these. If your deductible is at least $1,650 (individual) or $3,300 (family), you're likely eligible.
If you're currently on a low-deductible plan and considering switching, run the math carefully. HDHPs have lower premiums but higher out-of-pocket exposure if you have a bad health year. The HSA benefit is real, but it only makes sense if the premium savings plus HSA tax advantage outweigh the extra deductible risk for your specific healthcare usage.
Use the Tax Set-Aside Calculator to estimate your overall tax bill and figure out how an HSA contribution affects your taxable income for the year.