But here we are. Because nothing tests a friendship like splitting a check after a 14-hour day when you’re exhausted, broke, and someone ordered oysters.

So here’s your on-set guide to not being the person everyone complains about on the group chat.

Don’t hoard your credit card points like they’re rollover gear days

We get it. You’re saving for a trip to Portugal. But so is everyone else. I have a friend who always grabs the dinner bill and says ‘Venmo me later!’ like he’s a saint. Meanwhile all our friend know he just wants the airline miles. Last week someone finally called him out and he got weird about it. He said he needed the points to fly home for the holidays. Okay. But maybe ask if anyone else wants the points before you pull that? You’re not the only person with a credit card. Just say, “Anyone else want to take this one for the points?” It’s not that hard.

Don’t passive aggressive Venmo requests instead of just communicating

I has a friend that told me that someone asked her to grab coffee with her and her mom while they were in town. She said her mom was ‘a lot’ and she needed a buffer. So my friend went, thinking she was doing her a solid. The next day, she Venmo requests her for her iced latte. My friend ignored it and basically never heard from that other friend again. So if something like that happens to you, talk about that thing. Don’t turn a stupid cold brew into a friendship funeral.

You get way too precious with Splitwise

I love Splitwise. But I also hate Splitwise. Both things can be true! I once spent a weekend with friends who wanted to track every single thing on Splitwise. Fine. But do we really need to split 1/6th of a Trader Joe’s wine bottle? There’s also a receipt upload limit per day. We had this hilarious, but awful tension where the friend was stressed about the cap and the rest of us just wanted to enjoy the weekend. So to avoid this, I think you should propose a system (like everyone throws in cash up front), but once the plan is in motion, shut up about it.

Don’t make people pay for stuff they didn’t eat, drink, or snort

This is where film set etiquette actually helps. On set, crafty is for everyone, but if someone brings in a special order, you don’t charge the vegans for the pepperoni pizza. If my friends order $70 wagyu steak and I order a $15 pasta, splitting equally means I’m basically subsidizing their fancy meat habit. I once went to a bachelorette party in Palm Springs and the bride bought cocaine and added it to the Splitwise. Several of us didn’t do any. But I still think it’s insane we were asked to pay for it. Same goes for sober people. I don’t drink very often and most of my friends are cool and cover my Diet Cokes. But I have one friend who drinks a lot, like, a lot! And always splits evenly that I think I’ve probably paid for hundreds of dollars of her wine at this point.

The fix for this is simple. Just ask for separate checks. Or use the Tab app. Or say, “Hey, can we itemize?” before anyone orders. It’s really not awkward. What’s more awkward is fighting about it after!

You forget the server exists.

I used to work restaurants. When a big group asks for 12 separate checks, you are actively ruining that server’s nigh. Just take turns paying and Venmo later. Or one person pays and everyone else pays them back that night. For chrissake, don’t make the server do math because you can’t handle a simple conversation with your friends.

You’re “too generous” and it gets weird.

Yes, this is a real problem. I have a friend from a wealthy family who always pays. At first it was nice. But now I feel like a kid. When I try to pay, she waves me off. Now I feel like I owe her, and the friendship feels uneven. I had a friend who tried to help a friend who’d just been laid off before a bachelorette trip. She texted and said, “Hey, I can help cover some expenses if you need.” She got so offended and my friend felt awful about it. She was just trying to be a good friend, but she clearly touched a nerve.

The lesson here: Ask once, privately. If they say no, drop it.

You mooch, and everyone notices.

I have a very successful friend who has a nice beach house. When they invite me, I always bring wine, snacks, pay for groceries. One time another guest called our host over at the wine store and said, ‘Come here, we need your credit card!’. The host didn’t care. But I did. And now I side-eye that guest forever.

TLDR

Money and friendship are like a low-budget indie in that everyone’s stressed and sometimes someone ends up feeling screwed. But you can avoid most of this by doing two things:

1. Talk before you spend. Seriously. Before the dinner, before the Ubers, before the Airbnb.

2. Don’t make your friends guess. If you can’t afford something, say so. If you don’t want to pay for someone’s coke, say so. If you’re tired of subsidizing wine for the one friend who “doesn’t have a problem,” say so.

You got into film because you’re creative and you can handle chaos. I promise, you can handle a two-minute conversation about the check.

Now go forth and for the love of god don’t add drugs to the Splitwise.

XO

Eden

This month’s version is Obsession, the low-budget horror hit that reportedly cost around $750,000 and turned into a massive box office breakout.

This is great news for original movies. But also slightly more complicated news for the people who made the original movie.

Because as Obsession became a hit, art director Sally Choi posted publicly about what she says she was paid: $300 a day, $6,741.36 after taxes, no mileage, while doing what sounds like several jobs wearing one trench coat (art director, PA, set dresser, graphic designer, driver, buyer, swing, background actor, and presumably emotional support mule).

TheWrap reported that Choi went public as the film was nearing $175 million worldwide, and it was reported she later doubled down, saying the issue was bigger than one movie and encouraging below-the-line workers to talk to their unions.
Naturally, the internet handled this with grace and nuance!

jk. Everyone immediately became an armchair contract lawyer.

Some people said: “She agreed to the rate. Use the credit and the exposure and stop complaining.”

While others said: “This is exactly how indie film exploits people! Everyone sacrifices, the movie hits, and somehow the reward does not trickle down past the step-and-repeat.”

Both sides are missing the bigger, uglier joke: Hollywood has turned “being grateful for the opportunity” into a payment system.

And unfortunately, landlords still do not accept “I was part of a cultural moment” on the first of the month. The credit is real. So is the rent.

The credit is cool, but you still have bills to pay!

Let’s be fair. A major credit on a hit movie can change your career. It can get you meetings, raise your rate, make people suddenly discover your email after years of treating you like a bad date that got ghosted. And there’s no doubt how meaningful that is.

But a credit or “exposure” is not a cash in hand which is what you need to survive. A credit is just leverage, and leverage is only useful if you are in a position to use it before you go broke, burn out, or get so physically destroyed from art department runs that you start hallucinating receipts.

The most annoying response to Choi’s post was some version of, “She should just be grateful.” Ah yes, gratitude. The official currency of creative labor.

Can you Venmo gratitude? Can gratitude reimburse mileage? Does IATSEE have a gratitude health plan? Asking for several thousand friends.

Low-budget film is complicated

Here’s the part nobody wants to admit because it ruins a cleaner argument: low-budget movies require sacrifice.

Sometimes there really is no money. Sometimes everyone takes a low rate because the film would not exist otherwise. Sometimes you take the job for the credit, the relationship, the experience, the reel, the chaos, the story, the free off-brand LaCroix, whatever. That can sometimes be a smart choice.

The problem is what happens when the sacrifice becomes someone else’s lottery ticket. If the movie fails, everyone says, “That’s indie film.” And if the movie succeeds, everyone says, “Well, you agreed to the rate.”

The question is: if the project becomes wildly valuable, did the people who helped build that value get any meaningful way to participate?

Usually, the answer is: lol.

Backend: the sexiest word for “please read the fine print”

Backend is the money you might get if a project succeeds.

There are gross points, net points, sale bonuses, box office bonuses, performance bonuses, sequel bonuses, remake rights, and other phrases designed to make artists black out gently in a lawyer’s office.

Here’s the simplest version:

A sale bonus says: if the movie sells for over X, I get Y.

A box office bonus says: if the movie crosses X at the box office, I get Y.

A net profit point says: please enjoy this beautiful fictional creature from the Accounting Cinematic Universe.

That does seem slightly unfair. Sometimes net points have value. But many creatives have learned to treat them like a shitty coupon. For below-the-line workers, backend is often treated like something only “important people” get to discuss. But that is exactly why this conversation matters.

If the production wants you to accept risk (lower rate, deferred pay, multiple jobs, no mileage, no kit fee, no sleep, etc), it is fair to ask what happens if that risk pays off.

What creatives should maybe start doing

Here is my sincere advice. Before taking a low-budget film job, ask:

1. What am I actually being paid?
Day rate, overtime, mileage, kit fee, rentals, reimbursements. Get all of it in writing. “We’ll figure it out” is not a contract. It’s like a prequel to some future resentment.

2. What am I actually doing?
If you are hired as art director but also expected to drive, buy, dress, return, PA, design graphics, and appear onscreen holding a fake plant, that should be discussed before your lower back hates you.

3. What happens if the movie sells?
Ask for a sale bonus. It can be modest. But ask!

4. What happens if the movie performs?
Ask for a box office bonus tied to milestones. $10M, $25M, $50M, whatever makes sense. If the project becomes a miracle, there should be a miracle line item for the people who made it.

5. What happens if there’s a sequel, remake, or series?
Especially in horror. Horror is always horny for sequels.

6. Who can I talk to before signing?
A union, a guild, an entertainment lawyer, a more experienced department head, literally anyone who knows the difference between gross and net and will not say “just trust the vibes.”

Also: decide privately before you sign whether the deal will still feel okay if the movie becomes huge and you get nothing extra.

Producers should take notes too

This can’t just be about workers learning to advocate for themselves. If a microbudget film explodes, producers and distributors should create bonus pools for below-the-line crew. Period.

Especially when the tiny budget becomes part of the marketing story. Because “we made this for nothing” usually means some people were underpaid, overextended, and reimbursed in character development. If the scrappiness helps sell the myth, the scrappy people should share in the win.

The actual lesson

Please work on low-budget movies. Make weird things. Make risky things. Make the horror movie in someone’s house with a cursed toy, a fog machine, and an art department held together by hot glue and panic. But understand the deal. If you are accepting risk, ask about reward. Because once the movie becomes a hit, everyone suddenly remembers exactly what the paperwork says.

Funny how that works.

XO

Eden

This is the thing nobody tells you when they’re sharing personal finance content from the algorithm: it was built for someone with a fucking salary. Someone whose income arrives on the same date every two weeks like a polite, predictable houseguest who wipes the counter and never eats your leftovers. Not for you, the person whose bank account oscillates between “should I renovate my bathroom” and “I am taking the cherry stem off cherries so they’ll weigh less and be cheaper”

So let’s translate. Four viral money trends, decoded for the particular psychological warfare of a creative career in film and TV.

Trend 1: “Pay Yourself First”

What it is online: Set up an automatic transfer on payday so you save before you spend. A classic. A gem.

The problem: Payday for you is “whenever accounting gets around to it.” Your “payday” is a random Thursday, a vague promise from a line producer or an invoice you sent six weeks ago that has apparently entered witness protection.

What to actually do: Pay yourself first on every invoice cleared, not every month. The second a payment hits your account before you feel a little rich, before you text anyone about going out to eat, before you even close the banking app… transfer 20% somewhere boring like a savings account. Name the account something that kills the vibe on purpose. I named mine “Tax Jail.” It works. I have never once thought “ooh, let me dip into Tax Jail for a fun dinner.” The goal is to manufacture friction between yourself and your own money.

Trend 2: Cash Stuffing / Envelope Budgeting

What it is online: This was very popular on TikTok. It consists of dividing your cash into labeled envelopes by category (groceries, gas, fun money, etc) so you viscerally feel when you’re out of budget. It does make for very satisfying ASMR content.

The problem: Cash stuffing assumes your expenses are roughly the same every month. And mine are usually not. When you’re on a job you’re barely home, eating per diem, your Apple TV account is the only subscription getting any action (because I simply must watch WIDOWS BAY!), and your “fun money” envelope is just a impulse purchase of that new cherry cotton candy at Trader Joes (I’m a big fan of carnival NOT at a carnival). But when you’re off a job, you’re cooking elaborate pasta at 2pm on a Wednesday, going to every friend’s play out of guilt and solidarity, and somehow your grocery bill has doubled because you’re making pizza dough now. You’re a “I make my own dough” person all of a sudden. The envelope for “homemade pizza dough” does not exist!

Verdict: Skip it. Envelope budgets solve the wrong problem. You don’t have a self-control problem. You have an income-shaped rollercoaster problem. That needs a different fix entirely.

Trend 3: The Emergency Fund (3–6 Months of Expenses)

What it is online: Build a savings cushion equal to three to six months of living costs. Standard advice. Correct advice. Usually show on TikTok of with a mason jar to make it look “trendy”.

The problem: Three to six months is the civilian timeline. It assumes you will be unemployed briefly, like a normal person between normal jobs, and then a new normal job will appear. But I don’t live in this timeline. I live in the timeline where pilot season is not even a thing anymore, there’s a huge industry-wide contraction and my “we’re definitely greenlit” projects are in a state physicists would describe as “superposition.” They exist and don’t exist simultaneously until someone calls you.

What to actually do: So if you’re as financially volatile as my life, your number is more like eight to twelve months. I know. I know. But underfunding this is the single most catastrophic financial mistake I see people in this industry make, repeatedly, across their entire career.

Trend 4: “Loud Budgeting”

What it is online: Openly, unapologetically telling people you can’t afford something. Saying “that’s not in my budget” without a fake excuse or a spiral of shame. This originated on TikTok and tbh, genuinely one of the better things to come out of financial TikTok, which is otherwise a deeply unhinged and weird corner of the internet.

The problem: People in film and TV are performing financial stability for the set at all times. Buying rounds on wrap nights when they absolutely cannot. Saying yes to the destination bachelorette because they signed with a new agency and feel flush.

What to actually do: Be loud about it with yourself first. Before you’re at the bar at 11pm doing emotional math on whether you can Venmo your share of the group dinner. Make the call earlier when you’re sober, when the job is ending, when you can actually see the shape of your finances without the social pressure of everyone around you seeming fine. Because trust me, they’re also not fine. They’re also doing the math. Nobody is fine. This is the secret. Loud budgeting with yourself is just... being honest with yourself before the situation forces you to be.

The Thing I Actually Want You to Take Away

Viral financial advice is fine but it’s really for people who don’t have creative jobs. I’m talking with people who have a steady W-2, a manager who approves their PTO, etc.

So if you’re career is like mine, the goal is to build something that actually survives your real life.

XO

Eden

This is why creative people need boring places to put money. Boring is how you survive between jobs, strikes, slow seasons, delayed invoices, and “the deal is basically closed” becoming a full fiscal year.

When people talk about investing, they usually envision stocks or real estate. Stocks are useful, sure, but checking the market every day can make you feel like your Roth IRA is cyberbullying you. And yeah, real estate is also great, theoretically, if you happen to have $1.7 million for a guesthouse in Highland Park that needs a new roof.

So what else can you do with your money that is somewhat safe, somewhat smart, and does not require becoming the annoying guy at dinner who explains crypto?

Here are a few options.

Read more

This is usually followed by a second, sobering thought: “Oh my God, I have to pay for it.”

As a screenwriter, I’ve totally had those thoughts of “maybe I should just make it myself?” On one hand, self-funding can be emp…

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Another one is unemployment.

If you work in entertainment, unemployment is part of the ecosystem. This business is built on short term jobs, long gaps, vague promises, and emails that from execs that have passed on your script but say “you’ve got great stuff here!”.

My point is, you should apply for unemployment.

For the love of god, don’t feel bad about it. You paid into the system through wages. For California entertainment workers, the maximum weekly unemployment benefit is currently $450. Yes, that is the maximum. Yes, that is roughly the cost of one Erewhon smoothie if you add protein, collagen, bee pollen, and whatever Hailey Beiber is hawking these days. But $450 is still $450, and between jobs, that can be the difference between “I am budgeting responsibly” and “I am selling one boot from a designer pair on The RealReal.”

Read more

Being a TV/screenwriter hasn’t given me a normal relationship to money.

This is partly because writ…

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I have random bursts of money followed by long stretches of wondering if I’ve made a huge mistake professionally and I consider becoming a plumber. So most traditional advice about paying off credit cards never really worked for me, because it assumes I can commit to a fixed monthly amount. But for…

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If you spend enough time online, you start to believe successful writers all live inside a beige terrarium with a walnut stan…

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Online, passive income apparently means “sell a course to people who want to sell a course about selling a course.” It’s all MLM coded and low key scammy.

But if you’re a screenwriter, passive income matters for a real reason: this industry is…

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That’s most social media side hustles in a nutshell. They promise you mailbox money; they deliver another rough cut that needs color correction, sound mix, and three lost weekends.

Below, a reality check for six “easy-money” schemes currently clogging your Instagram or TikTok feed served with a side of popcorn butter cynicism for my fellow film folk.

UGC Dreams on TikTok

I cannot open TikTok without seeing a bunch of videos of “creators” claiming they rake in over $10K a month filming aesthetically lit cereal pours for cereal brands you’ve never heard of. After some research into this, I realized of course there’s a catch:

• To get these types of gigs you’re doing way more than just shooting a quirky little video; you’re also cold emailing, pitching, pricing, revising, reshooting, and negotiating usage rights like a mini rep agency.

• Brands want metrics, lots of them. And they will sure as shit ghost you faster than a hot guys on Hinge if your engagement lags.

• Median rate per video hovers around $150–$250, and that’s before all the editing revisions eat half your weekend.

Read more

And for people in film, TV, media, design, music, comedy, and other freelance-y creative jobs, market stress hits differently. We’re already living with income volatility. We don’t need our inv…

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If you work in a creative field, and especially in Hollywood, je…

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In entertainment can mean anything from “tomorrow” to “when the next Olypmics take place” You can feel flush on Monday and like a Depression-era orphan by Thursday. It’s not even that you’re bad with money, it’s that your income has the structural integrity of a papier-mâché set …

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The idea that money could arrive without you pitching, invoicing, auditioning, revising, networking, or pretending to enjoy a panel is obviously intoxicating. And one of the first places people hear about passive income is dividends.

Maybe you’ve heard some guy on TikTok say something like, “My portfolio pays me $3,000 a month!”

And suddenly you’re like: wait. You’re telling me I can just own a stock and it sends me a little allowance? Like a sugar daddy, but emotionally unavailable and publicly traded?

Basically, yes. But also… not really so calm down.

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• a “general meeting,”

• a “first look,”

• or a friend’s cousin who “got a blind script deal once.”

S-Corp talk spreads through our community like a cold at an awards season screening. One person gets one… then suddenly half your group t…

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But lately, the grifters have gotten more sophisticated. And they’re not just really annoying, they’re also actively trying to drain your bank account. So pour yourself whatever you drink when you’re stress reading (I like diet A&W root beer, but you do you, babe!), and let’s talk about these new batch of scams targeting film industry folks right now.

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Now let’s do the truth.

Because as I mentioned, the film business is not a stable ecosystem. It’s long stretches of “nothing is happening” followed by a week where every email subject line is URGEN…

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Here are some of the worst “investments” I’ve seen creatives make.

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1. You’re thrilled anyone wants to hire you.

2. You’re mildly insulted by what they think your time is worth.

The first time I got a real offer for writing work, I was so shocked someone wanted to pay me, I said yes immediately. Then I got dinner and paid $27 for a salad. Somewhere between b…

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