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While pursuing my Ph.D. in history, I found that many of my peers didn’t like talking about money. There was a romanticized idea of the poor scholar, and openly aspiring for financial security made it seem like you weren’t serious about academic life. There was so much focus on intellectual pursuit that any concern over a decent income almost seemed vulgar.

Yet I couldn’t shrug off my dwindling bank account. I wanted to be able to handle unexpected expenses and manage my life without the constant fear of financial ruin. I wanted a safety net that could withstand surprise medical bills without throwing me into a death spiral. I didn’t want to have to second-guess every latte I bought. Over time, this desire for stability and comfort made me question whether academia was the right path for me. The pressure to accept financial instability as a badge of honor became increasingly untenable, so I ultimately decided to leave the program.

Leaving my studies was critical to improving my finances, but it wasn’t easy. I feared that by stepping away from my academic track, I was closing the door to something I loved. As time went on, though, I realized nothing was stopping me from continuing my historical pursuits on my own terms. Much to my surprise, I found I could actually make money doing exactly what I went to school for, rather than relying solely on transferable skills.

Before getting there, though, I needed to change my thinking.

Shortly after leaving the program and starting my job hunt, the concept of transferable skills became my guiding star. Humanities scholars, I was told, could transition into nonacademic roles by marketing the indirect ways their academic experience could be valuable to employers. For example, an English Ph.D. could excel in marketing because of their writing skills, or a doctor in psychology might do well at designing consumer studies for companies by drawing upon their clinical research experience. In my case, my ability to synthesize diverse sources and take on research projects made me suitable for roles like data analytics or project management.

Honestly, I didn’t have much success winning employers over with the transferable-skills narrative. While I did eventually become a data analyst, it wasn’t because I convinced anyone that my research skills made me perfect for the role. Rather, I relied on traditional job-seeking methods like networking and worked my way up through promotions after starting in an entry-level position.

I’m not saying my academic background never comes in handy at my job, but it wasn’t how I got the job. And for a long time, I felt like my history degree was a mere relic of my past: something nice to look at, but too fragile and arcane to have actual utility.

Yet over the years since leaving graduate school, I slowly uncovered ways to put my history background directly to work. I didn’t have to rely on transferable skills alone. In the right setting, my academic training could have an intrinsic, monetary value.

It may be hard to believe, but it is possible to get paid to do humanities work outside of academia. The trick is knowing where to look and how to seize the opportunities when they arise. While humanities jobs may be admittedly niche, in the rare instances that your expertise is needed, you can be one of the few people qualified to meet that demand.

To thrive outside academia, you need to get comfortable with the idea of treating your pursuits as a business. This entrepreneurial mindset means recognizing the value of your skills in niche markets and being willing to find, pitch and create opportunities that let you monetize your passion.

For me, this meant embracing freelance work that centered around writing about history and closely related concerns. I set up an online presence through LinkedIn and multiple freelancing platforms like Upwork and Freelancer. Believe it or not, I found clients who were willing to pay for articles and YouTube scripts on niche history topics.

But freelance work comes with its own limitations. Clients pick the topics, not me. If I wanted more control over my content, I needed to invest in projects wherein I could pick the topics. Over time I decided that I should create my own “products”—such as a website on European history and documentary-style YouTube videos on the subjects that interested me. Both can be monetized through ads and subscription services.

I’ve seen firsthand that these options work because I’ve worked for clients who have done both successfully. Clients have paid me to write articles for their websites on niche history topics, and others have paid me to write scripts for history videos. These days I ask for $40 an hour and don’t accept anything less than $30. If a client says no, I wish them the best of luck and move on—if they’re not willing to pay a premium for skill and experience, then they’re likely not a good client to work with (having multiple income streams, by the way, is how you gain leverage in pay negotiations). I also know of a former Ph.D. student from my program who now makes his own YouTube videos on history and has built a successful career out of it.

Of course, none of this happens overnight. It’s important to maintain stable sources of income while establishing yourself. You can choose to keep your humanities work as a supplemental source of income, or you can build toward making it a full-time pursuit, depending on your goals. Potentially, you could even try to pursue this passion work while still working full-time in academia. I did know some graduate students who ran podcasts or blogs in their spare time, though these activities weren’t exactly encouraged by advisers.

None of what I’ve said here is intended to condemn academia outright or to say that people with graduate degrees in the humanities should give up on leveraging transferable skills to transition into a new career. It may be the case that you want to turn the page on your academic work and do something completely new. If you’re not ready to turn the page, though, I want to stress that your academic skills have intrinsic value. Whether you’re in history or another field, the trick is to reject the idea that your degree only matters in an academic setting. Be flexible, experiment with different options and don’t ever feel that earning a good income is a betrayal of yourself or your work.

Miles Reding is a freelance writer. He holds a master of arts in history from Northwestern University.

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