Building a Small Network of Freelancers I Can Call On

I run my business as a sole proprietor, but I haven't actually worked completely alone in years. Most of my larger projects involve at least one other person, an assistant, a second shooter, a producer, or someone running audio or drone, pulled from a small group of freelancers I've built relationships with over time. Being a solo operator on paper and working entirely alone in practice are two very different things.

Building that network wasn't a single deliberate initiative. It happened gradually, project by project, as I learned which people I could actually trust to show up prepared, work well under pressure, and represent my standards to a client without needing constant oversight. If you want to see how I structure larger projects around this kind of support, the Adventure Travel Photographer's Playbook covers the planning side in more detail.

Why I Don't Try to Do Every Project Alone

Some projects genuinely can't be executed well by one person, no matter how skilled or efficient that person is. A shoot that needs simultaneous coverage from two angles, a drone operator working alongside ground photography, or a production that requires managing talent while also running camera, all hit a ceiling that solo work simply can't clear.

Beyond capability limits, there's a quality argument too. Trying to do everything myself on a complex shoot spreads my attention thin across too many responsibilities at once, and that thin attention shows up in the final work. A focused photographer supported by capable help almost always outperforms an overstretched photographer trying to do five jobs simultaneously.

There's also a business argument. A network of freelancers I can call on lets me say yes to bigger projects I'd otherwise have to turn down or attempt underprepared. That capacity has directly expanded what kind of work I can take on, which matters for a business that depends heavily on self-initiated, self-pitched projects alongside client work.

Where My Approach to Leading a Team Comes From

My instincts around leading a group didn't come from a business course, they came from years of team sports through a Division I program, a high school leadership course, and an outdoor education program modeled loosely on Navy SEALs leadership training. Those experiences taught me things about coordinating people under pressure long before I ever ran a photo shoot.

The common thread across all of that background is clarity of goal combined with trust in execution. A team captain doesn't succeed by micromanaging every player's every move. They succeed by making sure everyone understands the goal clearly, then trusting people to do their part while staying alert to step in when something isn't working.

I carry that same framework directly onto a shoot. It's the same muscle, just applied to a different kind of team, and it's shaped almost everything about how I structure a project that involves more than just myself behind a camera.

The Roles I Call In Most Often

A second shooter or assistant is the role I bring in most frequently, especially for shoots involving exposed terrain, water, or any situation where having a second set of hands genuinely improves both safety and coverage. This is often the first hire on any project that outgrows what I can handle solo.

Drone operators come in for specific projects where aerial coverage matters enough to justify a dedicated specialist rather than trying to run a drone myself alongside ground photography. Certain shots, a summit reveal, a wide establishing shot of a route or river system, are simply better executed by someone whose full attention is on the aircraft.

Producers get called in on larger commercial projects, handling logistics, permits, and schedule management so I can stay focused on the creative and technical side of the shoot rather than splitting attention between directing a shot and managing a production timeline at the same time.

How I Actually Find Freelancers Worth Calling Back

Most of the people in my current network came through referrals from other photographers or past clients rather than cold outreach or job posting sites. A recommendation from someone whose judgment I already trust tends to be a much stronger starting signal than a portfolio alone, since it comes with context about how that person actually behaves on set.

I also pay attention to how people present themselves before we've ever worked together: how they communicate over email, whether they ask good questions about a project before agreeing to it, whether they show real curiosity about the specific work rather than just availability. Those small signals tend to predict how someone performs under pressure fairly reliably.

Portfolio quality matters too, obviously, but it's rarely the deciding factor on its own. I've worked with technically excellent people who were difficult to coordinate with under field conditions, and I've worked with less flashy portfolios attached to people who were reliable, communicative, and easy to trust in genuinely difficult conditions. The second trait matters more over time.

The Trial Project Before the Trust

I try not to bring someone new into a high-stakes commercial project as their first job with me. A lower-pressure shoot, a personal project, or a smaller client job gives both of us a chance to see how the working relationship actually functions before anything significant is riding on it.

That trial period reveals things a portfolio and a resume never fully will: how someone handles an unexpected weather delay, how they communicate when something goes wrong, whether they show up genuinely prepared or expect to be walked through every detail on site. Those are the qualities that actually matter once real client pressure enters the picture.

Once someone's proven reliable across a lower-stakes project or two, I feel comfortable bringing them onto bigger, higher-pressure work. That trust gets built incrementally, and I've found it's much better to build it deliberately than to discover a gap in someone's reliability for the first time on a project that can't afford the mistake.

Setting Expectations Before Day One

Before any project starts, I make sure every freelancer on the team understands the specific goal for that day, not just their individual task in isolation. Knowing the bigger picture, why a particular shot matters to the client, how their piece fits into the overall deliverable, tends to produce better decision-making in the field than a narrow task list ever does.

I also set clear expectations around communication style during the shoot itself: how questions get raised, how problems get flagged, and how much independent judgment someone should exercise before checking in with me. Getting this alignment before day one avoids confusion in the field when there's less time to explain nuance.

This upfront clarity matters especially for people newer to my network, since they haven't yet built the instinct for how I like to run a set. A short conversation before the shoot day saves a lot of friction once everyone's actually out in the field working under real time pressure.

The Team Huddle Approach on Set

At the start of every shoot day involving other people, I run a version of a team huddle: clearly stating the goal for the day, walking through the planned looks or shots, and making sure everyone understands the plan well enough to ask questions before we actually start moving. This takes a few minutes and saves far more time than it costs.

Once the huddle's done and the day is underway, I try hard not to micromanage. People perform better when they're trusted to do their job within a clearly defined goal, and constant oversight tends to slow everyone down and signal a lack of confidence that isn't actually warranted for people I've chosen to bring onto the project.

I only step in directly when something genuinely isn't working, and when I do, I try to address it directly and honestly rather than letting a problem fester quietly out of politeness. That directness, learned originally from team sports, has served this kind of collaborative work just as well as it served me on a field or a court.

When to Step In and When to Let Go

Knowing when to step in comes down to watching for a gap between what's happening and what the goal actually requires, not just personal preference about how something should be done. If a freelancer's approach differs from mine but still serves the goal well, I let it play out rather than forcing my exact process onto someone else's competent work.

When I do need to intervene, I try to do it quickly and specifically rather than letting frustration build across an entire shoot day before finally addressing it. A short, direct conversation in the moment resolves most issues far more cleanly than a delayed, accumulated complaint at the end of the day.

This balance, trust by default, direct correction when genuinely needed, took time to calibrate correctly. Early on I either over-corrected out of anxiety about getting the shot right, or under-corrected out of discomfort with confrontation. Neither extreme served the work or the relationship as well as finding the actual middle ground.

Paying Freelancers Fairly and On Time

People remember how promptly and fairly they got paid far more than almost anything else about working with me, and it's one of the simplest, most controllable ways to make sure good freelancers actually want to work with me again. I treat payment terms with the same seriousness I expect from my own clients.

I build freelancer costs into my line-item estimates from the start, the same way I itemize every other production cost, so paying people fairly isn't an afterthought squeezed out of a shrinking margin at the end of a project. Their rate is part of the actual cost of doing the job, not a discretionary expense.

This consistency has paid off directly in loyalty. The people in my current network prioritize my projects when I reach out, partly because of the working relationship itself, but partly because they know payment won't be a source of friction or delay once the project wraps.

Keeping the Network Warm Between Projects

I don't only reach out to freelancers when I need something. A quick check-in, sharing a finished project they contributed to, or just staying in touch between jobs keeps the relationship active rather than purely transactional, which matters when I need to call on someone again with short notice.

I also try to be honest about the irregular nature of adventure and travel work when I bring someone into the network. Projects don't come at a predictable cadence, and setting that expectation early avoids anyone feeling strung along during the inevitable gaps between bookings.

Over time, this has built a group of people who understand how I work, trust that I'll bring them in when the right project comes up, and don't need to be re-onboarded from scratch every time. That familiarity is one of the biggest practical benefits of investing in the network consistently rather than only when a deadline is looming.

What This Network Has Let Me Take On That I Couldn't Alone

Larger commercial campaigns with tighter timelines and more complex deliverable lists have become possible specifically because I'm no longer trying to execute every piece myself. Having a trusted second shooter or drone operator on call changes what kind of brief I can confidently say yes to.

It's also changed how I think about scope during negotiations. Knowing I have reliable support available means I can propose a more ambitious version of a project when it genuinely serves the client's goals, rather than defaulting to a smaller scope purely because solo execution would be the limiting factor.

Ultimately, this network has let the business grow past what one person's time and attention could physically cover, while still keeping the creative direction and final decisions in my own hands. That combination, more capacity without losing creative control, is exactly what I was hoping to build when I started taking these relationships seriously rather than treating help as a last resort.

How I Handle a Freelancer Who Isn't Working Out

Not every freelancer relationship works out, even after a promising trial project, and I've learned to address that directly rather than quietly avoiding future bookings without explanation. If someone's not the right fit, I try to have that conversation honestly, the same directness I'd bring to any other part of running a set.

I try to be specific about what wasn't working rather than offering a vague, softened version of the feedback. Someone who genuinely wants to improve deserves to know exactly what the mismatch was, whether that's communication style, technical execution, or pace under pressure, rather than being left to guess why they didn't get called back.

I also try to separate a bad fit for a specific project from a bad fit overall. Someone who struggled on a fast-paced commercial shoot might be exactly the right person for a slower, more collaborative documentary project. I've kept people in my broader network for the right kind of work even after a mismatch on a specific job.

This honesty has actually strengthened my network over time rather than shrinking it unnecessarily. People respect direct, specific feedback more than silence, and a few freelancers I initially thought weren't a fit turned into strong long-term collaborators once we both understood exactly what kind of project actually suited them.

Cross-Referrals Within the Network

Once a network reaches a certain size, the people in it start referring work to each other independently of me, which I've come to see as a genuine sign of a healthy group rather than something to be territorial about. A drone operator I trust recommending a producer I also trust, for a project I'm not even directly involved in, speaks well of the overall quality of people I've chosen to work with.

I try to encourage this rather than treating my network as a closed system that only functions through me as the central hub. A group of freelancers who trust and recommend each other tends to produce a more reliable overall pool of talent than one where every connection has to route back through a single person's personal vetting.

This has occasionally led to smaller, informal collaborations I wasn't directly part of, which I think is a healthy outcome rather than a loss. A strong professional network should create value for everyone in it, not just funnel every opportunity back to whoever happened to build the group in the first place.

Reflection Questions

1. What kind of project have you turned down recently because you couldn't execute it entirely on your own?
2. Who in your current network would you trust with a high-pressure client project tomorrow, and how did that trust actually get built?
3. How clearly do you set expectations with freelance help before a shoot day starts, versus explaining things on the fly?
4. Are you building freelancer costs into your estimates as a real line item, or squeezing them out of a shrinking margin later?

If you're thinking about how to build support into your own growing business, the Adventure Photographer's Playbook covers how I structure bigger projects around a trusted team.

Dalton Johnson is a professional adventure and editorial photographer with over a decade of experience creating images on all seven continents. His client work includes Patagonia, GoPro, Arc'teryx, Four Seasons, Nike, Rivian, Big Agnes, Ford Bronco, and 160+ other brands. He runs Dalton Johnson Media as a full-service studio, from pre-production through post and distribution.