The Knitting Diaries: Making a film during the worst year of my life.

THE KNITTING DIARIES is inspired by my multicultural Chinese/Mennonite roots and by the strong matriarchs on both sides of my family.

This story pays homage to strong immigrant women across Canada who, on many occasions, have had to rise above things like discrimination, archaic traditions, and small-town hardships to fight quietly and collectively as allies, especially when they get tangled in complicated situations.

Although my story is fictional, the events and relationships are deeply inspired by people in my bi-racial upbringing. My mother was born into the only Chinese family in a small farming town in Southern Manitoba. My father was raised in an adjacent Mennonite community close by. When my parents met and fell in love, it was not a union that either family welcomed with open arms. It was a shameful scandal that turned both their cultural and family values inside out. But as I would learn throughout my upbringing, neither one of my parents ever took the easy road, and neither do I.

As with any film project, getting this film made was full of ups and downs, but because it was such a personal story for me, I made a promise to myself that nothing would stop me from getting it made. Little did I know when I made that promise just how difficult the next year would be.

In March 2024, I moved back home to help care for my mom after my father had passed. While caring for her, I shared a rough draft of The Knitting Diaries with her. She had always been my most honest critic, and I always appreciated her blunt feedback. Although her body was failing her, her mind was as sharp as ever, and she never held back her honest thoughts. And then on the morning of my birthday, she said goodbye forever. And my heart was completely shattered.

In December, I got some much-needed good news: The Knitting Diaries had been approved for funding with Storyhive. I was thrilled to have something fun and light to work on. I was just starting to feel like myself again. Then, in February, I was taken back down to my knees when my partner found out his stomach pain was cancer. At first, we thought, ok, we can beat this. It’s going to be hard as hell, but we can get through this. I knew nothing about cancer and spent the next week reading everything I could get my hands on. I had no idea there were so many different types of cancers, tests, symptoms, treatments, and stages. It was an unbearably stressful time. Suddenly, we were living at Lions Gate Hospital, and two weeks later, Mark passed away. It all happened so fast. I felt like I had boarded a train to hell that kept accelerating faster and faster out of my control.

And just when I thought life couldn’t possibly get any darker, I got a phone call one night from a doctor that I had never even met, who told me, “Your biopsy results came back; it’s cancer.” I had had a freak accident in January where I fell through the ice while skating on a frozen lake. An X-ray revealed a cracked rib and a small shadow on my lung. A few weeks later, I had a needle biopsy that I honestly barely remembered doing in the blur of the hell that had transpired and definitely didn’t believe it would amount to anything. They said it was likely scar tissue from my fall or pneumonia. It never even crossed my mind that it might be a tumour. Over the next two months, I had a dozen more tests, biopsies, and scans, and each one revealed more bad news. In the end, it was determined that my lung cancer had metastasized to my lymphatic system and to my brain, so my diagnosis was now Stage IV NSCLC. It’s a rare kind of lung cancer that is commonly found in females of Asian descent who have never smoked. Lucky me.

My survival instinct was to stay busy. Keep moving so I don’t have time to think about anything too deeply. The meeting with my oncologist, where I learned the extent of my diagnosis, was May 3, 2025, the day before we went to camera for The Knitting Diaries. I was in Vernon for the shoot, so we agreed to do the call by phone. I took the call in my sister’s kitchen, which was one of our sets, and took notes as he discussed the next steps. It didn’t seem real at the time. It still doesn’t sometimes. My producers, Krista Rand and Jessica To, and my sisters all knew of my diagnosis, but I didn’t want anyone else in the crew to know. I was feeling fine, and we had come way too far not to shoot. I think I may have been in a bit of denial at the time. So I pushed it to the back of my mind and made the most of the four glorious days on set. I think the extra emotion made me feel things a little deeper, and I cherished every second I got to be there because, given my diagnosis, I didn’t know whether I’d ever get to do this again. To make the film even more personal, I placed tiny family keepsakes all over our set deck. Each one held precious memories for me that would be like secret Easter eggs when the film came out. I didn’t mention the significance of these tiny treasures to anyone else, but each one fills up my soul like a hug from my mom when I see them in frame. A week after we finished shooting, I was at Lions Gate Hospital receiving my first batch of targeted treatment, and on June 6th, I was on an operating table having a tumour carved out of my brain. Editing would have to wait. My original plan was to edit the film myself, but given my new health situation, this was obviously not going to be possible. Following my brain surgery, I was exhausted, fuzzy, and in no state to look at footage, let alone try to make sense of my chicken scratch notes. Thankfully, one of my producers found Nina Feger, an amazing editor with a compassionate heart and a schedule that could work around my very unpredictable availability. A couple of months later, once my brain had cleared enough that I could look at my computer, we built the story assembly, and after a few more sessions, we were ready for sound design and colour. I worked with my favourite composer, Adele Ethridge, and brilliant sound designer Henrique Andrade to create a moving composition and overall soundscape that accentuated the story. Then it was time for colour. Fortunately for me, Nina had colouring in her skillset, and then voila, The Knitting Diaries was ready to share. I am forever grateful for every single person who helped bring this film to life. Even though it was only four shoot days, it felt like a family to me. We learned how to knit, how to make wontons, and that rotary phones are confusing to kids under 20. So many great lessons.

I’m really excited that The Knitting Diaries is finally out, and I’m so grateful that I had this project to distract me during the worst year of my life. The Knitting Diaries has brought so much love and light into what otherwise was kind of a downer year.

My cancer is an ongoing battle, but I’m winning, and I am completely sold on the famous lyrics. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. “ I’m back, and my curiosity and passion for storytelling are stronger than ever.