Every story begins as a whisper—an idea tugging at the edge of your thoughts until it’s no longer content to be quiet. That was certainly the case with Hey, Roomie!—though “whisper” might be too soft a word for the way this book barged into my brain.
The idea came early. The timing? Complicated.
Hey, Roomie! was actually intended to be my second published novel, following Duality. I was already deep into the writing process when a major motion picture premiered with a storyline that felt uncomfortably familiar. I’d technically started first, but the overlap was undeniable—and more importantly, impossible to explain away. So, I shelved the manuscript and walked away. That story, as I originally imagined it, would never see the light of day.
Instead, I poured myself into a new project—Vitae—which became my second novel and gave me space to breathe. Still, the characters from Hey, Roomie! never fully left. They lingered, stubborn and silent, waiting for a better foundation. Eventually, they got one.
The Hey, Roomie! that exists today is a full reinvention. Not a patch job. Not a revision. A complete restart. The old material was scrapped, and I rebuilt the story from the ground up. A new plot. A deeper story world. A whole new set of entanglements for Chelsia to navigate. Duality had already set the stage, so this book needed to carry that thread forward—while also standing on its own. I let the past draft go, and in return, I gained something better.
This rewrite felt different from anything I’d done before. It wasn’t just cleaning up a first draft—it was reimagining what the book could be. And when I returned to the story, something had shifted. The characters moved with clarity. The dialogue snapped. There were moments that surprised me, twists that hit harder, and a protagonist who had grown in my absence.
The cast of characters in this story came alive with a kind of mischief and mayhem I hadn’t expected—and they brought their share of secrets. The dedication at the front of the book hints at that chaos. To quote it directly:
“To the masters of mayhem, the architects of chaos, and the virtuosos of villainy whose real-life antics inspired this tale: Thanks for the material, you unwitting muses. May your deeds remain confined to these pages.”
Make of that what you will.
As for the cover, I knew exactly what I wanted. Not pretty. Not polished. Visceral. I wanted the kind of image that makes someone stop scrolling, furrow their brow, and think, “Wait—what happened here?” That question was the hook. The cover needed to feel like a moment frozen mid-impact, hinting at what’s to come long before the first page is turned.
Now that the book is finished and will be out in the world in roughly three weeks, I can say with confidence: I wouldn’t change a thing. Letting go of the original version gave me the freedom to make something sharper, stronger, and more honest. The rewrite didn’t just save the book—it made it.
And to readers stepping into the world of Hey, Roomie!—thank you for trusting the chaos. I hope you enjoy the unraveling.
xo Ametra.
