Arts·Making A Living

Liam Gareau says creatives need to be more open about money — and he'll tell you exactly how much he makes

After 13 years of trying to kickstart his career while working as a server, the writer and podcaster is finally making a living with his words (plus he can afford to see the dentist).

'It drives me crazy when people are cagey with money. I've never understood it.'

"I hopefully have some modicum of innate talent. I fancy myself a hardworking person, but also I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the recipient of luck," says writer and podcaster Liam Gareau. (Courtesy Liam Gareau)

In Making a Living, we talk to artists and creatives about all things money — how they make it, how to support an artistic practice when you still have a day job, and how to handle things like taxes and slow periods when you're doing it full-time.

Liam Gareau started trying to "make it" as a professional writer while he was still just a teenager. Over the past 15 or so years, his career has "run the gamut," doing just about every type of writing you can imagine, from spec television scripts to journalism. And yet, in spite of that breadth, the Vancouver-based Gareau was only actually able to make writing a full-time job starting this year, when he began working on the Wondery podcast Rich and Daily.

"This is my first proper writing job," he says. "I was in the service industry, living off of tips for 13 years. I only just got out of that six months ago."

He's currently a writer and producer on the entertainment podcast, which releases episodes every weekday, and also has his own interview podcast, Deep Feels. The short film he co-wrote, Play it Again, won the Jury Prize at the Austin Film Festival in 2021. 

We talked to him about how to balance creative work with your day job, the transition to being a full-time writer, and why it's important to talk about how much you make.


 

Who are you and what do you do?

I don't even know how formal this intro should be, but, I'm Liam. I'm a writer and also a podcast producer. I work on a show for Wondery called Rich and Daily.

And you do other types of writing, too, right?

I wrote a short film called Play it Again that won the Jury Prize [at] the Austin Film Festival last year. I wrote sketch comedy. I've done spec scripts for television. I wrote a feature-length script that got me shortlisted to the Canadian Film Centre. I taught script writing — that was one of my pandemic hustles. I've done freelance writing; I've done a little bit of review work for some online magazines. 

So what's that transition like, from writer/server to full-time writer and producer?

As lovely as it is — I'm going to be really transparent — it still feels very foreign. Something that gets drilled into you when you work as a server is you need to constantly be doing something. The thing that is so bizarre to me is that there are just times when I just sit and do nothing. And that's fine, because I'm waiting on someone for something. The stillness element of this job is really interesting.

So how did you know it was time to transition to writing full-time?

Well, you know that it's time from the second you want to do it. But that's not up to you.

Right, but when did you know it might be viable for you to make a living at it?

The thing about this industry is that nothing is really in your control. It's not always the most talented or the most hardworking person who makes a career in this industry. Unfortunately, something that you need to be on the receiving end of is luck. So, I hopefully have some modicum of innate talent. I fancy myself a hardworking person, but also I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the recipient of luck.

When my short film won the jury prize in Austin, I met a woman who worked for Wondery, because she also had a short film in the festival. And she said, "We're looking for people all the time. You should send me your CV." And, God bless her, she pushed my resume for like five months because she really wanted to get me hired. I feel like I just sort of lucked into this job.

So, that 13 years where you were waiting tables and bartending and whatnot while also trying to work on your writing — how did you balance that? 

There are moments where you are really productive and you're on top of that and you're being really disciplined about writing in the morning or writing after your shift in the cafe or, doing whatever you need to do, taking classes if you can afford it. And then there are other times when you're like, "Well, I just looked at my step count on my iPhone, and between walking to and from work and waiting tables for this brunch shift, I walked 30,000 steps and I'm exhausted. I don't have the mental faculties to even do anything."

So you have to embrace the fact that it's going to sort of be this wave. It's something that you're just going to fall off sometimes. That's OK. 

You started trying to make this a career when you were really young, right? You've had a bit of an unconventional path educationally and career-wise. Can you talk to me about that?

I dropped out of high school in ninth grade, so I did not go to university. By the time I was 18, I was waiting tables full-time. So any experience or education that I accrued was through smaller workshops and weekend intensives.

When I was 20 or so, I went into the Second City Conservatory. So I have a certificate in sketch comedy writing, which I'm sure will get me everywhere.

What do you think were the advantages and disadvantages of that path?

I think working full-time from the time I was 18 does give you an independence and ages you up a bit. You're kind of self-reliant in a way that people at that age aren't. If I'd gone to some four-year program wherever, I'm sure I would have learned a lot, but the thing I think schooling really gives you is a network. The thing that is really valuable, in this industry especially, is mentorship. You know, you need people who are sort of a few rungs ahead of you on the ladder to go, "Hey, let me help you up here."

I'm really lucky that I did find that when I started at the Second City Training Centre. I do think about, "OK, if I had pivoted and if I had decided to be tens of thousands of dollars in debt going to school, what would that have looked like?" That was an element of what made my life somewhat easier. It's the reason I could afford to live on my own and exist pretty frugally waiting tables, because I didn't have school debt hanging over my head. I think that is really crippling for a lot of people, particularly in this industry.

So, since this is a series about money, how much are you making right now and what are your sources of income? 

As of right now, Wondery is my only source. When I started working there, I was like, "I would like to not have to do a million different things." My monthly income with them is about $6,000 a month. So that's $72,000 a year, right? My rent is approximately $1,500 a month. And then you're paying for phone, internet, food. This is the first time in my life I've actually been able to put money into savings and can afford to go to the dentist, right? And by all means, please feel free to include this. I didn't go to a dentist for 12 years because I could not afford it. 

What are your expenses, for work, but also doing your own podcast?

A computer, internet, and high quality headphones, because part of my job is to listen to sound edits. From the tech standpoint, in terms of what's involved for that job, it's very bare-bones.

For my podcast? A yearly SoundCloud subscription, which I think runs me $120 a year, because that's like the other base for all the episodes. The mic, the recorder that I use — I think all-in, that wound up being $300 or $400.

How much did it cost to make the short film?

$10,000, and that's considered very low.

Yeah, that's not a lot of money.

I believe that was a two-day shoot that was done in the apartment of the woman who co-wrote it with me. Most of that money was really spent on equipment, paying the actors and post-production costs.

How do you finance a short film?

You either you can go about it with grant money, or there are people who are private investors who, like, weirdly, are looking to throw their money in that direction. That was kind of what the situation with our short film was. Either my friend or her partner, who also was the director of the film, knew this guy who was a finance person. And then they basically struck up this arrangement where he helped finance a big part of that movie, and then also helped us with application fees and stuff when we were submitting it to festivals.

When we got into Austin, I was waiting tables. I couldn't afford to go, so I crowdfunded my trip. And so people also will do that. With an Indiegogo or a Kickstarter, a lot of people are procuring funds through mass donation and then hopefully you can make something out of that.

I appreciate you being so candid about all this. A lot of people are really hesitant to sit down and talk money with me.

It drives me crazy when people are cagey with money. I've never understood it. It doesn't help anybody, right? It also doesn't hurt anyone to know what other people are making. And I would also just add in people who are on the short end of the stick of lack of income transparency are women, and particularly women of colour. They're getting fucked over royally by white guys not saying how much they make.

Even just in this interview, if I'm telling someone my role and the company that I'm working for and my income, that gives them a frame of reference. It helps other people have a clearer sense of what their time and effort is worth. It's incredibly frustrating when people are prudish about money. I find that really disappointing.

What's your advice for people who are trying to make a living as a writer, either young people, or people young to writing?

If you want to to have a big career as a writer, as an actor, or whatever, you probably need to move to cities where those industries live, and you then need to find your community of people, particularly if you're starting off. Go take a weekend workshop; take take a class somewhere where you can meet other people who speak the same language. Hopefully those are going to be people who, down the road, you collaborate with. 

Another thing I would say is manage your expectations. I was so sure I was going to be a fully employed screenwriter by the time I was like, 20. So you just need to manage your expectations and keep your eyes on your own paper, because no one's career is going to be like another person's career.

Just focus on getting better at whatever your discipline is. That is the thing that you can actively be in control of. If you are objectively brilliant at the thing that you do, you'll be very hard to ignore.

And this is the last thing: you need to prepare yourself to meet people who have rich parents. You are going to wonder why there are certain people who are getting ahead because they're always able to afford whatever class they want. They can always go to whatever workshop they want. They can do X number of plays where they're making $0. They can make rehearsals at whatever time of the day and seemingly never really hold down a job. And that is because there are a lot of people who have parents who are paying for their lives.

So not everyone is playing off of the same playing field. It is not a level position that we're all operating off of. And so again, don't concern yourself with those people. Understand that they are going to have a different path than you and maybe those people will have success and maybe not. But keep your eyes on your own paper and just try to become as skilled as you possibly can be with whatever your discipline is. 


This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chris Dart

Web Writer

Chris Dart is a writer, editor, jiu-jitsu enthusiast, transit nerd, comic book lover, and some other stuff from Scarborough, Ont. In addition to CBC, he's had bylines in The Globe and Mail, Vice, The AV Club, the National Post, Atlas Obscura, Toronto Life, Canadian Grocer, and more.

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