So here’s the deal. If you’re trying to be a freelance writer, and you don’t have a portfolio? You’re basically yelling into the void. I know because I did that for… way too long. Like, I thought just writing stuff would be enough — blogs, tweets, random Medium posts no one asked for. But then someone would ask, “Can you send over your writing portfolio?” and I’d just stare at the screen like… oh. Right. That.
Nobody really teaches you how to start a blogging portfolio for freelance writers. I googled it. A bunch of shiny websites came up with advice like “show your best work” and “make it clean and professional,” and I was like — great, but what if I don’t have “best work”? What if I’ve got half-finished blog drafts, a chaotic Google Drive, and a weird obsession with writing about why cereal is better at night?
Anyway. If that’s you — if you’re kinda winging it and pretending you’ve got it together — I get it. I’ve been there. And this isn’t gonna be one of those polished step-by-step guru posts. I’m just gonna walk you through how I actually put together a blogging portfolio that didn’t suck. Messy bits and all.
Because not having a portfolio isn’t just a “little problem.” It’s the reason nobody takes you seriously. Let’s fix that.
2. Section: Choose Your Platform & Format
Okay, I’m gonna be brutally honest here — when I first tried to “build my writer portfolio” or whatever, I had no freaking clue where to start. I googled something like “best platform for blogging portfolio” and ended up drowning in tabs. Medium. WordPress. Clippings.me. Wix. Substack. Notion. Even some weird one called Format that I thought was an app for resumes? It was a mess. I legit opened like 14 tabs, panicked, and closed them all. Classic me.
So, if you’re in that “idk what I’m doing but I need to do something” phase, lemme try and save you some time.
If you want no setup, no coding, no overthinking, just throw your writing somewhere and call it a day? Medium or Substack. Boom. Done. You sign up, write, hit publish. Medium’s good if you want traffic from the platform. Substack’s great if you dream of having email subscribers someday, or you like the newsletter vibe. I mean, it feels more personal. Like you’re whispering directly into someone’s inbox. Kinda nice.
Clippings.me is what I used first. It’s like…training wheels for a portfolio. Super simple. You just paste links, write a bio, maybe add a profile pic where you look less dead inside — and you’ve got a clean little page. I even downloaded a content writer portfolio sample PDF from it once and sent it to a job. Cringe. But hey, I got the gig.
Now, if you’re the kind of person who likes to customize everything down to your link colors and fonts (I see you), then go with Wix or WordPress. BUT — warning — they will eat your time. I spent two days choosing a damn theme. Two days. Not building. Just…choosing.
Oh, and Notion — I love it, but it’s weird. Like, it’s technically not a portfolio platform, but I’ve seen people make some aesthetic-looking pages there. I made mine on a Sunday night when I was spiraling about not having clips. It worked. It wasn’t fancy, but it was me.
Now if you’re thinking, “But I don’t have anything good to put in my portfolio,” same. At first. Just upload anything. A blog post, a pretend article, a weird creative piece from 2 AM that you only wrote because you couldn’t sleep. Just…something. Later, you can export it as a PDF if someone asks for it. Or just send them the link. Who prints stuff anymore?
Anyway — don’t overthink it. Pick a platform. Doesn’t have to be perfect. Hell, mine still has typos. But it exists. And that’s more than I could say a year ago.
So yeah. You got this. Even if your homepage is just “Hi I write stuff” and three links to Medium posts, it’s a start. Better than waiting for perfect.
4. Section: Curate & Create Writing Samples
Okay. So let’s say you’ve got… like, zero experience. You wanna start this blogging portfolio thing but your Google Drive is full of half-finished poems, three blog drafts with titles like “Why I Hate Mondays (and Capitalism),” and maybe one email you sent your cousin that actually sounded good. Cool. That’s fine. Honestly, that’s where I started too.
I remember opening my laptop one night, staring at a blank Google Doc, and thinking, “Who the hell is gonna hire me when my best writing lives in WhatsApp chats and angry tweets?” And the answer was no one. Unless I figured out a way to fake a portfolio that didn’t feel fake.
So here’s what I did. And what you can do. Even if you feel like a total imposter right now.
1. You already have stuff. You just don’t think it counts.
Like, remember that essay you wrote in college about gender roles in Disney movies? Or that Medium post you wrote once in a panic during quarantine? It counts. If it sounds like you and it proves you can string words together and make someone feel something—even if it’s just boredom or mild curiosity—it’s worth tossing in.
Dig up your old blog posts. Tumblr, Substack drafts, whatever. That poem about your cat dying? Put it in a “Creative Writing Portfolio” section. Call it “narrative poetry.” Boom.
2. You can totally write made-up samples. People do it all the time.
They’re called “spec pieces.” No one told me that at first. I thought you had to wait for someone to pay you to write before it was legit. Nah. You wanna write for coffee shops? Write a fake blog post about the “Top 5 Cold Brews in Hyderabad.” Want to write for tech companies? Do a pretend review of a new AI tool.
I once wrote a whole fake case study about a fictional pet-sitting startup. Never published it anywhere. But a client saw it and said, “I loved your writing for FurSure—can we work together?” I didn’t correct him. I just said thank you.
3. Keep it messy but structured.
Here’s a dumb little format I use now that helps stuff look more “professional” (ugh, I hate that word):
- Title: Keep it clickable, but don’t overthink.
- Project Summary: A few lines about what the piece is and why you wrote it.
- Link or Full Text: Paste it if it’s short. Or link to it (even if it’s on your own blog).
- Context: Who was it for (real or imagined)? What was the goal? Any backstory?
For example, one of mine literally says:
“This was a pretend blog post I wrote because I wanted to prove I could write listicles. It’s about 7 weird habits writers have. No one asked for it, but it made my friend laugh.”
That’s it. It’s not fancy. But it shows I can write like a human.
4. Make sure your samples match where you wanna go.
Like, if you want to do content writing for health brands, maybe don’t lead with your vampire erotica short story. (Unless the health brand is…weirdly into that?) Put your niche‑ish stuff up front. The rest can be hidden deeper down like that drawer in your kitchen full of sauce packets and broken pens.
And don’t worry if it feels awkward. It’s supposed to feel awkward. You’re making something out of nothing. That’s kind of magic, honestly.
You can search for “writing portfolio examples” all day long, but in the end, yours should sound like you. Even if you’re still figuring out who that is.
Anyway. Go write one fake blog post. Just one. Print it out. Hold it in your hands. That’s the beginning of your portfolio.
4. Section: Structure Your Portfolio Site
Okay, I’ll be honest. The first time I tried to build a writing portfolio, I literally Googled “writing portfolio for job application layout” and just sat there clicking through tabs like it was gonna build itself. Spoiler: it didn’t. I opened Wix, closed it. Tried WordPress, got overwhelmed. Ended up throwing stuff into a Google Doc and calling it a day.
But yeah. Eventually, I figured it out. Not perfectly — it’s still a little clunky — but good enough to not cringe when a client asks for “samples.”
So here’s how I should’ve done it (and kinda did, eventually):
1. Homepage (aka the front door of your little writer house)
Keep it clean. One strong sentence about who you are and what you do. Like, “I write SEO-friendly blogs that don’t sound like robots.” Or whatever you’re into — travel writing, tech tutorials, weird fanfic, I don’t know. Add a photo if you’re feeling brave (I cropped mine because I hate my nose lol). Keep it scrollable. No clutter. People click, they skim, they bounce. You’ve got maybe 5 seconds. Be human. Be fast.
2. About/Bio
This one wrecked me for a week. Writing about yourself is the worst, especially when you’re not sure who you even are yet. I wrote mine like 17 times. Too stiff. Too cute. Too boring. Just tell a bit of your story. What brought you here. Why you write. Throw in a weird fact (mine’s that I used to sell printer ink). It makes you more real.
3. Portfolio / Clips
Okay. This is where people decide if they’ll pay you or ghost you. Link your best stuff here — 3 to 5 pieces is enough, honestly. If you don’t have published work yet? Write sample blogs and label them clearly. Like: “Spec Article – Not Published”. Or just write something you’d love to be hired for. I used my Medium blog in the beginning. Still do sometimes. Works fine.
And hey, name your files something useful. Not like “final_draft_3_revised_blogFIXED.docx.” Actual names with the keyword in it. Like “freelance-writer-portfolio-examples-blog.pdf” or whatever. Helps with SEO. Not kidding.
4. Services (if you want to get hired)
Just be straight. What do you offer? Blog writing? Email copy? Technical documentation for smart things you pretend to understand? List it. Add prices if you want. Or say “Contact for rates” if you’re still winging it. I said “Starting at \$50 per blog post” and hoped for the best. (It worked.)
5. Contact
Do not make people hunt for your email. One clear contact page. Short form or clickable email. I also slapped my social links there (even though my Twitter is mostly memes). Add a short note like “I usually reply within 48 hours unless I’m having an existential crisis.” Or… you know. Be normal.
SEO Stuff (ugh, but necessary)
Look — I didn’t care about SEO at first either. But then I learned stuff like: adding keywords in your page titles helps. So my “Clips” page is titled: “Writing Portfolio – Freelance Blog Samples by [My Name]”. Not rocket science. Just specific.
Also: alt text. Every image? Describe it. “Screenshot of freelance writing portfolio homepage” — boom. Helps blind folks and Google.
Meta descriptions? Think of them like Tinder bios for each page. Short, relevant, with a little personality. “Freelance writer portfolio examples, blog writing samples, and how I survived my first unpaid gig.” Done.
Anyway, that’s how I slapped together my writing portfolio. It’s messy. It’s changed five times. But it gets the job done. And really, that’s all you need — something real, something that shows you write like a person.
Also, pro tip: bookmark your own site. Nothing worse than forgetting your own URL when someone important asks for it. Learned that the hard way. While sweaty. On a Zoom call.
Cool. That’s it. Now go build yours. Don’t overthink it too much. Just… start.
5. Section: Build in Credibility & Trust Signals
Alright, so this part? This one took me way too long to figure out.
I used to think if I just wrote good stuff, that’d be enough. Like, “Hey, I have words. Look at them. Hire me.” 😂 Yeah… no.
People wanna trust you. They need proof. Not just “I write” but “I’ve written, and someone else thought it was good enough to use.” That’s the difference. And honestly? That took me way too many ignored pitches to realize.
I remember staring at this blank section of my site labeled “Testimonials” and thinking, “Who the hell would I even ask?” I’d done maybe two ghostwriting gigs and one blog post for a friend’s random dog food startup. But you know what I did? I reached out anyway. I said, “Hey, if you liked what I wrote, would you mind dropping a couple of lines about it?” One replied. One ghosted. And the other sent something that felt like ChatGPT wrote it but whatever—it looked nice on the page.
Then I added logos. Not big fancy ones. Just the ones I actually worked with. Even if it was some janky WordPress blog with 200 monthly visitors, if I wrote for them, I stuck that lil logo on there. Not to fake anything. Just to say: “Look. I did this. For real.”
Also—those little badges? “Published on Medium,” “Guest post on XYZ,” stuff like that? They look small, but they matter. I swear I got more replies once I added those tiny-ass icons.
And the “About Me” section. Ugh. That one was weird. Writing about yourself without sounding like a self-obsessed robot is weird. I tried to make it sound all polished at first, like, “I’m a passionate content creator who…” blah blah. Deleted it. I rewrote it like I was telling a new friend what I actually do:
“I write stuff that makes people stop scrolling. Mostly blogs, sometimes newsletters. I like storytelling, metaphors, and overusing parentheses. I also make killer coffee.”
That stuck. That sounded like… me. And people actually read it.
Oh and this bit—content writer portfolio sample PDF—I made one, finally. Just a 3-pager with a short intro, links to stuff I’d written, and one little case study that showed, like, “Hey, this blog I wrote helped bring 1K visits in a month.” It felt super weird making it, but it helps when someone asks, “Can I see your work?” Boom—PDF.
So yeah. You need those signals. Not ‘cause you’re not good. But because people don’t know you’re good yet. That’s it. Give ‘em something to go off of. Even if it’s scrappy. Even if it’s just one review and a logo from your cousin’s wedding planning blog.
It’s a start.
6. Section: Promote & Maintain Your Portfolio
So, I’ll be real with you—I used to think just having a writing portfolio online was enough. Like, boom, I wrote a few pieces, slapped them on a website, and thought the clients would magically appear out of the digital mist. They didn’t. Shocker. I even checked my inbox every few hours like some sad little goblin waiting for gold coins. Nothing.
Anyway—what I learned (the hard way, of course) is that your portfolio is basically invisible if you don’t tell people it exists. You’ve gotta put it out there. Like, annoying big-sibling energy level of “hey look what I did!” and just… keep doing that.
I started with Medium. Not because I loved it, honestly—I hated the editor at first—but it was easy. You don’t need a website. You don’t need coding skills. You just write and publish. I posted one of my favorite personal essays on there (the one where I talked about crying in a bookstore—don’t ask), linked back to my portfolio, and surprisingly… a stranger shared it. And that tiny ripple? It got me two emails asking if I do ghostwriting.
LinkedIn was harder. I hate writing like a “professional,” because what even is that? But I tried. I made a post like, “Hey, I write things. If you need someone to write your stuff, I can probably help.” That was it. I added my portfolio link in the comments (because apparently, that’s what people do now?). Again, nothing flashy. But one of my old classmates saw it, and next thing I knew, I was writing blogs for her startup.
And guest posting—ugh. That’s the part where you feel like a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. I pitched five websites. Got ignored by four. The fifth one replied two weeks later and said, “We’ll try you out.” I ended up writing a blog post for them about burnout and freelancing. Not only did they pay me, but they let me link to my portfolio at the bottom. Win.
Oh—and SEO? Yeah, okay, I’m still figuring that out. I googled “how to start a blogging portfolio for freelance writers” just to see what shows up. Then I updated my site title, tweaked a few blog headings, renamed images with keywords like some kind of content wizard. Did it help? I think so. I mean, my bounce rate went down.
Also, update your damn portfolio. I didn’t touch mine for six months and forgot I had super boring samples at the top. No one wants to hire the “5 Tips to Write Faster Emails” person anymore. Replace old stuff. Archive things you’ve outgrown. Don’t let your site be a digital junk drawer.
And ask people what they think. I sent my portfolio to a writer friend, and she told me it looked like a dentist made it. Which… rude, but accurate. I changed the font, ditched the stock photos, added one of those weird selfies where I’m holding a cup of coffee and pretending to write. Felt more me.
So yeah. Promote it. Share it even if it feels weird. Keep fixing it. Even if no one’s watching—do it anyway. One day, someone will click. Probably when you’re not expecting it. Probably while you’re doomscrolling or stress-baking banana bread. That’s just how it goes.
7. Section: Examples & Templates Gallery (Optional)
Okay so—this part? Ugh. This should’ve been the easiest thing, right? Just throw in some “writing portfolio examples” and call it a day. But nope. I sat there for hours wondering what the heck even counts as a “good” writing portfolio when half of mine looked like I wrote them on no sleep and cold pizza.
But anyway. If you’re here, maybe you’re just like I was—panicking at 2AM, Googling “writing portfolio template” and wondering if a Medium post about your cat counts as experience. (It does, kinda. Especially if it’s funny.)
So here’s what I wish someone had handed me back when I was overthinking fonts and bio sections and whether or not I should lie about writing for Forbes (don’t).
📝 Basic Job Application Portfolio (for when you just need something to exist)
- One-page PDF
- Short intro (like, “Hey I’m X, I like writing about Y, here’s what I’ve done”)
- 3 links (or PDFs) to blog posts/articles
- Contact at the bottom, maybe a little “What I’m into” blurb so it doesn’t feel robotic
→ Boom. That’s enough to apply somewhere.
🌀 Creative Writing Portfolio (aka, the weird and beautiful mess)
- Use Google Docs or Notion
- Title page with your name, niche (if you have one), vibe
- Separate pages or sections for:
- poetry that makes no sense but still hits
- short stories that you half-finished but loved
- random rants or freewrites (if they’re good)
- Bonus: Add a note like “some of these are raw, but they’re real” — people respect that.
📦 Template Folder I Actually Use
(yeah, I’m sharing my mess. Judge later.)
- Portfolio.txt — literally a notepad file with my best links
- About.txt — my mini bio I copy/paste everywhere
- Samples Folder — PDFs of blog posts, ghostwriting stuff, even old newsletters
- Screenshot folder — sometimes I forget to save links, so I screenshot my posts from the actual sites (is that professional? idk. it works.)
Look, all I’m saying is… your writing portfolio doesn’t have to be perfect. Or pretty. Or even make sense to anyone else. Just make it feel like you. That’s it. That’s the only real “template” I trust.
8. Conclusion & Next Steps
Alright. So, conclusion. Or whatever this part’s supposed to be. Honestly, if you’ve made it this far — building a blogging portfolio as a freelance writer — you’re already doing more than I did when I started.
Back then, I had this one random Google Doc with a bunch of blog posts I’d written for no one, not even myself. I didn’t know what platform to use, didn’t know if Medium was “too basic” or if WordPress would eat my soul with plugins. I just slapped stuff together and hoped nobody would ask to see it.
But look — you don’t have to do that.
Pick something (Notion, Clippings.me, even a free Wix site if you’re broke — no shame in that). Dump your best stuff in there. Or your okay-ish stuff. Or just stuff. Then add a little intro. “Hi, I’m figuring this out.” That works. Then build from there.
Don’t overthink the structure. Homepage, a bio that doesn’t sound like ChatGPT wrote it, 3–5 writing samples. Doesn’t have to be award-winning — just show how your brain works. You can fake confidence later.
And hey, promote it. I know that part feels icky. Like “look at me!” But do it anyway. Tweet it. Email it to people. Add it to your bio. Brag a little. You earned it.
Also…update the dang thing once in a while. I still have a post in my portfolio that references Vine. VINE. Just update yours. Please.
Anyway. If you ever felt like you’re not good enough to have a “portfolio” — like that word is for people who have clients or a degree in something — nah. Screw that. A portfolio is just you saying, “This is what I can do. Wanna work together?” That’s it.
And if any of this helped you — I mean genuinely helped — leave a comment or just yell into the void (aka my inbox). Or don’t. That’s okay too.
Go write stuff. Show it off. Keep going.