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. As the days passed, I read my revisions aloud to her and even saw her smile in a section about spitting in tea. Unfortunately, that line got cut in the edit, but it served its purpose. And then after a few weeks, on the morning of my birthday, my mom said goodbye forever. My heart was shattered, and my life would be forever changed.
Seven months later, 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, and I welcomed the opportunity to start digging into the process of preproduction. The feeling of being above water didn’t last. In February, I was taken back down to my knees when my partner was told that 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 colon 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 that went downhill at a pace that no one expected. Within two weeks, 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 I didn’t know how to get off.
And just when I thought life couldn’t possibly get any darker, I got a phone call 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 had revealed a cracked rib and a small shadow on my lung. In between taking Mark to appointments, I had been called in to have a needle biopsy that I honestly barely remembered doing in the blur of the hell that had transpired. I definitely didn’t believe it would amount to anything. They said it was likely scar tissue from my fall or pneumonia. It never crossed my mind that it might be a tumour. I never got to tell Mark what the result of that biopsy was. Over the next two months, I had a dozen more tests, biopsies, and scans, and each one revealed more bad news. It started to be almost humorous. I would respond to the doctors with sarcasm. Of course, it’s the worst-case scenario; what else would it be? 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. But I was lucky because at least I tested ALK-positive, so this opened some other treatment options. Yippee—luckiest girl in the world.
My survival instinct was to stay busy. Keep moving so I don’t have time to think about anything too deeply. Keep the film moving forward. 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. Maybe if I forgot about it, it would forget about me and disappear. 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. I placed tiny family keepsakes all over our set deck. Each one held precious memories for me that would be like secret Easter eggs just for me 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. And during our shoot, each one gave me a little bit of secret strength that I channelled from my ancestors. 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 to support the story. Then it was time for colour. And voila, The Knitting Diaries was finally 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, we formed a family. We learned how to knit, how to make wontons, and that riding banana-seat bikes and operating rotary phones are hard for kids under 20. I always look forward to the new lessons that making a film conjures up. The biggest lesson I learned making this film was just how much I needed to be surrounded by this eclectic community during my time of grief and uncertainty. My family, my old high school friends, and a new batch of beautiful, creative souls all gave me a bit of their hearts when they said yes and volunteered their time and expertise to help bring my story to life. And the fact that there was so much heart put into this short film makes it extra precious to me.
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.