There was one other Chinese Australian family there. When they were coming out from Hong Kong as newlyweds, Dad was like, oh there’s a work opportunity there. And they actually really loved what they saw. It was really clean versus Hong Kong; versus this megalopolis. But it was kind of dead. So Mum had mixed feelings. She was just, like, it’s really clean and beautiful. And it’s really boring and there’s no one to talk to and I have no friends. So it’s kind of like it’s a beautiful place where my soul will be crushed.

‘Let’s stay here and raise children!’

Completely. Happy primary school years, not so happy high school years — like my parents’ divorce coincided with the rise of Hanson-ism.

It’s One Nation heartland where we grew up. Looking back I now realize what it was.

Being a writer can be a structureless existence — how did you make it?

Because I’m the son of entrepreneurial migrants and I’ve seen how hard both my parents have worked. I don’t need to have that lesson. You just see how it works.

I was a pretty anxious teenager. Mental health wasn’t necessarily great. And I remember having a really intense anxiety attack about a year into my creative writing degree thinking: What the hell am I doing? I just knew there and then after this panic attack, that I needed to carve my own path.

So I just picked up the phone and rang every Brisbane magazine for work experience. By the time I graduated, I was writing for The Courier Mail, and then making magazines with friends and finding work opportunities. I just remembered thinking, there is no job security; like you have to hustle.

Was it easy to get “The Family Law” made?

I had no plans to write the book “The Family Law.” And I had no plans to pitch it as a TV show. That’s how insanely lucky and lazy I am. I submitted two stories to an anthology called “Growing Up Asian in Australia,” edited by Alice Pung. It was the publisher Chris Feik who sent me an email saying: “Do you have a book idea? I obviously really like your essays.”