Why I’m Changing the Title
There’s something quietly unsettling about changing the name of a book.
It feels a bit like renaming a child halfway through their teenage years. You’ve lived with it, grown attached to it, defended it in conversations… and then one day, you realise—it no longer quite fits.
That’s where I’ve found myself with The Room Under The House.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I still love the title. It has served the story well. It hints at mystery, unease, and something hidden just out of sight—which is exactly what the book is about. But over time, as the story has evolved, deepened, and taken on a life of its own, I’ve started to feel that the title is only telling part of the story.
And this is where things get interesting.
Because the deeper I’ve gone into the psychology of the characters—particularly Joel—the more I’ve realised that the “room” isn’t just a physical space. It’s something far more personal. More disturbing.
The current title points you toward a place. The new title needs to point you toward a meaning.
Titles Matter More Than We Like to Admit
A title is the first handshake between a story and a reader.
It sets expectations. It plants questions. It whispers, “this is the kind of journey you’re about to take.”
And if that whisper isn’t quite right, then something feels off—even if the story itself is strong.
I’ve reached a point where I want the title to do more than just describe the setting. I want it to capture the emotional core of the book. The tension. The unresolved past. The quiet dread that builds as truth starts to surface.
No pressure, of course. Just naming an entire psychological mystery in a few words isn't an easy task. It took months to come up with the original title, and here we go again.
Why Now?
Because the story is ready. Or at least, it’s finally telling me what it wants to be.
There’s a moment in writing where things shift. The characters stop feeling like constructs and become people. The plot stops being something you control and starts becoming something you uncover.
When that happens, you start seeing everything differently, including the title. And once you see it, you can't unsee it.
What Happens Next?
I’m currently exploring a number of new title directions. Some are darker. Some are more psychological. Some lean into the mystery, while others lean into the emotional weight of what’s really going on beneath the surface.
At this stage, I haven’t landed on the one.
But I will.
And when I do, I’ll be revealing the new title in September.
One Thing That Won’t Change
The story itself.
This is still a story about loss, memory, and the things we bury—sometimes literally, sometimes not. It’s about what happens when the past refuses to stay where we left it.
And, of course… it’s about what might be waiting in the dark, just beneath our feet.
(Some things don’t like being forgotten.)
