Honestly, I listened to a lot of Tupac. How he is able to make each song an ode to a person or an ideal or a memory was the magic I needed. I paid attention to his meter, to how he is able to captivate an audience.

I ended up inserting a lot of the challenges I faced growing up as a Chinese American into the character: expectations from my parents, from society, and even from my Asian American peers on “what” or “how” I should be.

... the more meetings I took and the more people I spoke with, I realized that it’s not about settling for some light, some immediate relief. I needed to look at the long-term.

I try not to write scenes and dialogue too early—it’s my favorite part so I treat it almost as a reward—and find that when I take more time to research and solidify plot and structure things go more smoothly.

Whether it was drugs or gang violence, we can now articulate how the system created roads that are limiting in opportunities and long in redemption for people of color, and we are better equipped and empowered to change our landscape.

My family and I have found that our experiences with mental health have been incredibly challenging, but also have really taught us the true meaning of unconditional love.

But I’ve learned a lot about novel writing through screenplays, and it’s only made my writing stronger. I only write with a detailed outline now that’s almost like a mini script without dialogue. It’s made me finish books a lot faster.

When I’m structuring scripts or outlining scenes, I think in terms of tempo, tonal dissonance, loud-quiet-loud dynamics, etc. It’s probably just because songwriting was the first kind of writing I taught myself.

It’s incredibly alluring to me how quickly a kind gesture can evolve into a dangerous seduction and deadly game of cat and mouse as a means to stay in control. I always find this particular subject matter very enticing.

And honestly, I still don’t take budget or market viability into consideration when deciding what to write. (Cue the sound of prospective reps fleeing in terror).

But switching mediums is less learning a new language than an awkward dialect. The vocabulary’s largely the same—you just can’t understand why they spell legitimise with an “s.”

It took another year before the whole thing “blew up,” which is sad because so many patients could have been saved in-between had someone listened.

... being agreeable and always saying yes and bending over backwards with your balls in a knot for people who would never lift a finger back for you doesn’t get you farther than making noise, blowing people’s shit up, and standing up for yourself.

Someone once told me the mark of great art is admiring it so much you wish you’d created it yourself.

I was also engaged by the deep-rooted relationship between Choon-Ok and her mother, Pak Ung-Ak. Theirs was both a nurturing and a clashing relationship that conflicted Choon-Ok, yet prodded her to pursue her goal.