There are people who think freelancing is easy. If only they could get out of their office cubicles, ditch that two-hour commute, and rid themselves of those pesky work deadlines, they’d have a perfect life.

Some of these people also think that if people like me weren’t so bloody secretive about our “contacts” and just hand over our Rolodex to them, they’d be able to do what we do just as successfully, and their lives would be easy. But I’m a bitch and they’re unsuccessful and it’s all my fault.

There are people I know– new journalists, mostly– who won’t make the effort of reading the step-by-step information I’ve laid out for free on this very website, and will instead e-mail me an idea and ask me to tell them about markets that would be open to their work.

These are usually nice e-mails– the ooh-you’re-so-awesome variety– with appeals attached to them that try and guilt me. Someone must have helped me along the way, so now I must help them. Some of them also say things such as “you’re so well-connected” or “you know so much” or “you’re so helpful,” but basically, no matter how they say it, it boils down to this: I’m too lazy or incompetent to do this on my own, so please will you do it for me?

Whenever I can bother to respond, the answer is no.

A couple of years ago, a friend from school found me and added me on IM. We were chatting about what we were now doing, and he wrote, “We should meet up for coffee so that you can teach me all about freelance writing.”

I actually wouldn’t have minded helping this person get started, but the sense of entitlement annoys me no end.

“I charge at least $150 per hour for one-on-one consulting,” I wrote back. “So you better be ready to pay up. ;)”

Of course, he never brought up his writing aspirations again.

I don’t mind helping people at all. I’m happy to take questions, privately and on this blog, and often do. Young journalists, especially from abroad, often write to me when they arrive in India, ask if they can buy me coffee, and I’m always happy to meet them and offer advice.

I have benefited from and am truly grateful for the experience and generosity of fabulous editors and writers, and I’m more than happy to pay it forward. But I can’t– and won’t– do it for someone who reeks of entitlement, is looking for the lazy way out, and can’t manage a simple thank you after receiving an e-mail chock full of information.

It took me years and a lot of hard work to build my contacts. While I don’t mind sharing and exchanging names and numbers with peers, it’s pretty cheeky for any new writer to expect that I should hand them all over as part of “paying it forward.”

When people e-mail me asking me where their ideas might fit, I point them towards the market guides where they can find hundreds of names of magazines and newspapers. They’re often disappointed. They were expecting me to give them names of markets I’ve personally picked out and names of my editors. Instead, they get homework. They don’t want work, they want it all on a platter.

Similarly, when they ask me to teach them “all about freelance writing,” I guide them towards websites and books geared towards freelance writing. This too, disappoints. Maybe I’m holding back some secret, they think. Some trick, that if they knew, they’d be successful too.

I only know of one trick: put in the time and the hard work, and eventually you will get to where you need to be.

Fortunately, there’s nothing secret about that.