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How a 25-Year-Old Built a $90K/Month Video EmpireStory

How a 25-Year-Old Built a $90K/Month Video Empire

Tuan Le moved from Vietnam to Canada at 15 with almost nothing. By 25, his video production company ShortsCut was pulling $90,000 a month. Here's how he did it.

There's a moment Tuan Le keeps coming back to. His father, fresh off the plane from Vietnam, working the night shift at a casino in Canada — washing dishes — and losing five pounds in his first week on the job. The work was that brutal. Tuan was 15 years old, watching all of this, and he made a promise: he would retire his parents within ten years.

By 25, he'd done it. Today, Tuan sends his parents $5,000 CAD — roughly $3,650 USD — every single month. And his company, ShortsCut, a Toronto-based video production agency specializing in short-form social media content, is on track to average $90,000 USD a month in sales in 2025. In 2025 alone, ShortsCut brought in $1.08 million USD in sales and $490,000 USD in profit. That's not a side hustle. That's a real, serious business built by someone who started by editing League of Legends montages for $20 a pop.

This is the story of how he got there.

Step 1: Start Where You Are, Even If That's Rock Bottom

When Tuan's family moved from Vietnam to Canada, they gave up everything. His parents had a house, stability, and a comfortable life back home. They sold all of it to fund the move, betting everything on a better future for Tuan and his sister. For a teenager, that's a lot to process. Tuan admits he went through a period of real anger — he blamed his parents for giving up something good without having to. He didn't understand it yet.

What he did have was time and loneliness. He barely spoke English, struggled to make friends, and retreated into video games. That isolation, frustrating as it was, became the seed of everything. He started recording his own gameplay and editing it into montages. One thing led to another, and he began freelancing — editing videos for YouTubers in the League of Legends community, then finance creators, then dropshipping channels. The pay was almost insulting. Twenty dollars for a 20-minute edited video. But he kept going.

Step 2: Know When You're in the Wrong Room

Tuan eventually enrolled in the Toronto Film School, which sounds like the logical next step for someone who loves video. But he lasted four months. The turning point came when he made a video about his parents for a class project called the 'meaningful thing project.' It was personal, raw, and good enough to land in the school's hall of fame.

Instead of feeling validated, Tuan felt something else: he realized he was already the best in the room, which meant he was in the wrong room. So he left.

Dropping out during the COVID-19 pandemic was not exactly great timing. Work dried up. Money was tight. And Tuan, too proud and too hungry to stop, came up with one of the more creative survival strategies you'll hear: he started cold-DMing every restaurant in Toronto, offering to shoot a video for them in exchange for the best item on their menu. That became his daily meal. He wasn't pitching for exposure — he was literally trading his skills for food and building a portfolio at the same time.

Step 3: Find the Real Problem, Then Pivot Hard

Here's where things get interesting. Tuan was making beautiful, high-production 'food porn' videos for these Toronto restaurants — the kind of slow-motion, perfectly lit content that looks incredible. And it was going nowhere on social media. The videos weren't getting engagement. They looked great, but they weren't working.

That observation was the pivot point. Tuan stopped asking "how do I make better-looking videos?" and started asking "what actually works on social media?"

He went to one of his restaurant clients and made them an offer: 10 TikTok videos for $2,000, and if the videos didn't perform, he'd give the money back. The very first TikTok he made for that client got 700,000 views. The second one got 300,000. The concept was proven almost overnight, and ShortsCut was born.

Step 4: Build a Repeatable Formula for Viral Content

One of the most valuable things Tuan shares is that going viral isn't magic — it's a process. ShortsCut operates around a clear formula, and it starts with a simple truth: content either has to entertain or educate. Everything else is noise.

Ideal Viewer Persona: Before a single frame is shot, the team identifies exactly who the content is for. Not "general audiences" — specific people. For an entrepreneur client, that might be 18-to-25-year-olds who feel lost about their future.

Emulate What Already Works: ShortsCut doesn't try to reinvent the wheel. They study formats that are already proven to drive engagement and model their content around them. If a particular style of video is consistently pulling millions of views in a given niche, that's a signal, not a coincidence.

Address Real Problems Directly: Once the target audience is locked in, the content addresses their specific questions and anxieties head-on. For that same entrepreneur client, a video titled "What should I do with $10,000?" speaks directly to where that viewer is emotionally and practically.

The results back this up. Across more than 3,000 videos, ShortsCut has driven over 3 billion views for its clients. That's not a fluke — that's a system working at scale.

Step 5: Learn to Sell, Not Just Create

This might be the most underrated part of Tuan's story. He's a creative who figured out that the real leverage isn't in getting technically better — it's in learning to communicate value and close deals.

When he started, he was charging $2,000 to $3,000 a month on a retainer model. As ShortsCut proved its results, the prices climbed: to $4,000, then $10,000, and now some clients pay upwards of $50,000 a month depending on the scope and complexity of the work. The client roster sits at 10 to 12 companies at any given time, ranging from pet food brands to tech companies. The retainer model means predictable revenue — no chasing invoices, no feast-and-famine cycles.

But none of that pricing power exists without the ability to sell. Tuan's willingness to guarantee his early work with a money-back offer was a sales move as much as a confidence play. It lowered the risk for the client to zero and forced him to deliver. When you can walk into a room and articulate exactly what you do, why it works, and what results you've driven — that's when creative work becomes a real business.

Step 6: Build a Team That Scales Beyond You

ShortsCut now employs 15 people spread across multiple countries — Canada, Vietnam, the Philippines, India, and Argentina. That global team structure isn't accidental. It allows Tuan to tap into talent in markets where the cost of living is different, without compromising on quality.

And his goals for the company are genuinely ambitious. He wants ShortsCut to hit $100 million in revenue within the next five years. Perhaps more telling of the kind of leader he's becoming: he plans to give away 49% of the company to his key team members. That's not a small gesture. That's a founder who understands that the people who help you build something deserve to own a piece of it.

The Promise He Kept

What makes Tuan's story land so hard isn't the revenue numbers — it's the reason behind them. Everything traces back to that image of his father losing five pounds in his first week washing dishes at a casino. The $5,000 CAD he sends his parents every month isn't a flex. It's a debt paid. A promise kept.

He started editing gaming clips in a basement, traded his camera work for restaurant meals, dropped out of film school because he knew he was ready for something bigger, and built a company that now generates over a million dollars a year in sales. All by 25.

If you're a creative who feels like your skills aren't translating into real income, the lesson from Tuan is pretty clear: learn to sell, find the formats that actually work, and don't be afraid to niche down hard. The gap between "good at making videos" and "running a $90K/month agency" is mostly a sales problem, not a craft problem.