We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Amanda Kelley. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Amanda below.

Amanda , appreciate you joining us today. Let’s jump right into how you came up with the idea?

For twenty years, I built a life behind the chair.
I was the stylist people sat with for hours. I saw women come in carrying more than overgrown roots or dry ends. They carried breakups, burnout, reinventions, grief, new jobs, old wounds, secret dreams, and the quiet question so many of us eventually ask ourselves:
Who am I becoming now?
And somewhere in the middle of all those appointments, I realized I wasn’t just doing hair.
I was witnessing transformation.
That’s the part people don’t always understand about being a stylist for that long. You learn how to read energy before someone says a word. You learn how to listen for what’s underneath the small talk. You learn that a haircut can be about confidence, color can be about reclaiming identity, and a total makeover can sometimes be the first visible sign that someone has decided not to disappear inside their own life anymore.
For years, I loved that work. I still respect it deeply. It taught me people. It taught me discipline. It taught me service. It taught me how to create an experience, not just provide a transaction.
But over time, something else kept tugging at me.
The stories.
Not just the stories my clients told me, but the stories I was carrying inside myself. The characters. The worlds. The ideas that would not leave me alone.
And then one morning, everything shifted.
I woke up feeling completely empty.
Months earlier, the man I thought I was building a future with had walked away. I was alone in the quiet of my house, and for the first time in a long time I let myself sit with the weight of everything that had accumulated over the years. The failed relationships. The broken promises. The heartbreak. The long hours. The sacrifices.
And the question that hit me hardest was this:
What do I actually have to show for all of it?
I felt like I had spent years pouring myself into other people’s transformations while quietly neglecting my own.
That morning wasn’t dramatic. There was no lightning bolt moment. It was quieter than that. Just a deep sense that something inside me had to change.
So I started writing.
Not a novel. Not a business plan.
A self-help book.
I called it SoulCrafting.
It was never meant for anyone else at first. It was a place to gather every lesson I had learned about healing, growth, energy, identity, and becoming. Everything I had told other people over the years. Everything I needed to remind myself.
Writing it became a way of stitching myself back together.
Eventually I built a workbook to go with it — something practical, something interactive, something that helped translate those ideas into daily practice. I thought I might publish it one day, but when it was finished I realized something unexpected.
I didn’t need to.
That book had already done what it was supposed to do. It helped me rebuild myself.
So I kept it.
A few people read it, but it mostly stayed mine.
Then something interesting happened.
Because once I started writing, I couldn’t stop.
Next came a small DIY ebook about lightening hair — practical knowledge from my years in the salon. I shared it with a few people and left it at that.
But by then something had shifted inside me. I had crossed a threshold.
One day, almost casually, I thought:
What if I just wrote a book?
So I did.
That book became the first installment of my Aluna series — a story that I am still revising and refining because that world is so layered and alive to me.
While working on that manuscript, I decided to write something lighter as a creative break — what I thought would just be a fun, fluffy romance.
That book was Rent Me.
And the moment those characters started speaking, something unexpected happened.
An entire world opened up- Grave Hollow.
A town. A group of friends. Magic, humor, love stories, messy lives, supernatural chaos — a universe that kept expanding the more I wrote. What I thought was a side project became the foundation of an entire series, and from there more stories followed.
Now I’m actively building multiple series and worlds at once.
What started as a private act of healing turned into something much bigger: a creative ecosystem of stories, books, and tools that help people explore transformation in different ways.
Looking back, the shift from stylist to writer wasn’t as abrupt as it might seem.
As a stylist, I helped people shape how they were seen.
As a writer and creative, I help shape how people understand themselves.
Both are about transformation.
The difference is that one happens in a mirror, and the other happens inside a story.
And the truth is, this path didn’t begin with a grand strategy or a perfectly mapped business plan.
It began with a quiet, difficult morning when I realized I needed to start rebuilding my own life — one page at a time.
What followed wasn’t reinvention.
It was expansion.
Twenty years of working with people taught me empathy, intuition, communication, aesthetics, and how to translate emotion into something tangible. Those skills didn’t disappear when I started writing. They became the foundation of everything I create.
So when people ask how I knew this creative path was worthwhile, the answer is simple.
Because it aligned both emotionally and logically.
Emotionally, it brought me back to life.
Logically, it built on everything I already knew how to do.
I wasn’t starting from nothing.
I was starting from experience.
Today, I’m building multiple book series, creative projects, and tools that blend storytelling, transformation, and imagination. Some are playful. Some are deeply personal. Some are designed to help others explore their own growth.
But every single one of them traces back to that moment when I decided to stop waiting for my life to feel meaningful and start creating meaning myself.
This work isn’t just a business.
It’s the continuation of a journey that started with heartbreak, honesty, and a blank page.
And it’s still unfolding.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

For most of my adult life, my work revolved around transformation.
For over twenty years I worked as a professional hairstylist, helping people express who they were—or who they were becoming—through their appearance. Sitting behind the chair gave me a front-row seat to the emotional side of change. Clients didn’t just come in for haircuts or color; they came in during breakups, career shifts, reinventions, and personal milestones. I spent years listening to people’s stories, watching them navigate life transitions, and helping them walk out of the salon feeling more confident than when they walked in.
What I didn’t fully realize at the time was that this experience was quietly shaping another part of my life: storytelling.
Eventually, writing became more than just a creative outlet. It became a way to process my own experiences and explore deeper themes around identity, healing, power, relationships, and transformation.
The real turning point came during a difficult season in my life. After a relationship ended and I found myself alone and questioning a lot about my direction, I woke up one morning feeling like I had nothing to show for years of effort and emotional investment. Instead of continuing to sit with that feeling, I started writing.
The first thing I created was a self-development book called SoulCrafting. It was never originally intended to be a product or a business idea. It was a personal project—a way to gather all the lessons I had learned over the years about personal growth, energy, self-worth, and rebuilding yourself after disappointment or heartbreak. I later created a companion workbook that turned those ideas into practical exercises.
Interestingly, I never rushed to publish it. At the time, the process itself was the point. The book helped me rebuild my own mindset and clarity. A few people read it, but it mostly remained something I created for myself.
That experience opened the door to something unexpected: once I started writing, I realized how much I loved the creative process.
From there I created a small DIY ebook about hair lightening techniques based on my professional salon experience. I shared it with a few people who were curious about the process, but it was still more of an experiment than a formal product.
Then one day I decided to try something different.
I thought, What if I just wrote a novel?
That experiment turned into my Aluna series, which blends fantasy, ancestral lineage, magic, and complex characters navigating power and identity. I’m still actively revising and refining the first book in that series because it’s a large, layered world that continues to evolve as I work on it.
While revising that manuscript, I decided to write something lighter and more playful as a creative break. That project became Rent Me Your Heart, which is part of my supernatural romantic comedy universe set in a town called Grave Hollow.
What started as a “quick, fluffy project” turned into something much bigger. The characters developed their own personalities, the town began to take shape, and suddenly an entire story universe existed with multiple interconnected books and characters.
At this point I’m actively developing multiple book series and creative projects, including fantasy, paranormal romantic comedy, and personal development tools.
In addition to writing fiction, I also create workbooks, planners, and guided tools designed to help people explore personal growth, energy awareness, and intentional living. These projects blend elements of spirituality, reflection, and practical self-development in a way that encourages readers to actively participate in their own transformation.
So in many ways, the work I do now sits at the intersection of storytelling, creativity, and personal growth.
The common thread across everything I create—whether it’s a novel, a workbook, or a creative project—is transformation.
My fiction explores transformation through characters and story arcs.
My workbooks explore transformation through reflection and self-discovery.
Both invite people to look at themselves, their choices, and the possibilities available to them.
One thing that sets my work apart is the unique combination of experiences I bring into it. Spending two decades working closely with people gave me a deep understanding of human emotion, relationships, and personal reinvention. I’ve seen firsthand how people rebuild themselves after heartbreak, how they rediscover confidence, and how they step into new chapters of their lives.
That perspective shows up in everything I write.
My characters feel real because they’re built from years of observing human behavior and listening to real stories. My personal development work feels grounded because it comes from lived experience rather than abstract theory.
I’m also deeply interested in building immersive worlds and connected creative ecosystems. My writing projects aren’t just individual books—they’re expanding universes with recurring characters, layered lore, and long-term storytelling arcs. I love creating environments that readers can return to again and again.
What I’m most proud of, honestly, is the fact that all of this began during a very uncertain time in my life.
None of this was part of some perfectly mapped plan. It started as a personal act of rebuilding and turned into a creative path that continues to grow every year.
That’s something I want readers, clients, and followers to understand about my brand and my work.
You don’t have to have everything figured out to begin creating something meaningful.
Sometimes the most powerful projects start when you’re simply trying to make sense of your own life.
Today I’m building multiple creative worlds, writing books, designing growth tools, and exploring new ways to connect storytelling with personal transformation. My goal is to create work that entertains, inspires, and reminds people that change—no matter how messy or unexpected—is always possible.
If someone walks away from my stories or tools feeling more curious about themselves, more empowered to grow, or simply more entertained and inspired for a few hours, then I feel like I’ve done my job.
And the truth is, this journey is still unfolding. Every book, project, and creative experiment is another step in discovering what’s possible when you follow the thread of the stories you’re meant to tell.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

One of the biggest lessons I’ve had to unlearn is the idea that my worth is directly tied to how much I can produce for other people.
For over twenty years I worked as a hairstylist, which is an incredibly service-oriented profession. When you build your livelihood that way, you get used to measuring success by how many people you can help in a day, how full your schedule is, and how much of yourself you can give. You become very good at showing up for others—even when you’re exhausted, even when life feels heavy.
There’s a certain pride that comes with that kind of work ethic. But there’s also a hidden trap in it. Over time I had unknowingly internalized the belief that my value came from constantly doing—serving, fixing, helping, producing. If I wasn’t actively working or providing something tangible, I felt like I wasn’t contributing enough.
That mindset didn’t just stay in my career. It showed up in my relationships and in the way I moved through life. I stayed in situations longer than I should have, gave people more energy than they deserved, and kept pushing forward even when I was emotionally depleted.
The moment that forced me to confront that belief came during a difficult season in my personal life. After a relationship ended, I woke up one morning feeling completely drained. I remember sitting in the quiet of my house and feeling like despite all the years of hard work, sacrifices, and effort I had poured into different parts of my life, I was left with heartbreak and the lingering question of what I actually had to show for it.
It was painful, but it also forced me to ask a deeper question:
What if my value isn’t tied to how much I give away?
That question became the beginning of a shift for me.
Instead of trying to fix the feeling by working harder or staying busy, I started writing. The first thing I created was a personal development book called SoulCrafting, which was essentially a collection of the lessons I had learned about healing, identity, and rebuilding yourself after life doesn’t go the way you expected.
Writing it helped me realize something important: productivity and worth are not the same thing.
Creating SoulCrafting wasn’t about proving anything or producing something impressive. It was about reconnecting with myself. It was about remembering that growth sometimes requires slowing down, reflecting, and allowing space for transformation instead of constantly pushing forward.
Ironically, once I let go of the pressure to constantly prove my value through output, creativity started flowing more naturally. That’s when my writing began to expand—from personal development tools to fiction and the story worlds I’m building today.
But the truth is, unlearning that belief isn’t something that happens once and then disappears.
It’s something I still have to work on.
When you spend decades in a service-based profession, the idea that your worth is tied to how much you can give or produce becomes deeply ingrained in your psyche. Even now, there are moments when I catch myself slipping back into that mindset—feeling like I need to constantly be doing more, creating more, proving more.
The difference now is that I recognize it.
I pause. I recalibrate. I remind myself that rest, reflection, and creativity are just as valuable as productivity.
That awareness has changed how I approach both my life and my work. It allows me to create from a place of intention rather than pressure.
And interestingly, the more I’ve embraced that shift, the more meaningful and expansive my creative work has become.
Sometimes the most powerful growth doesn’t come from learning something new—it comes from slowly, patiently unlearning the beliefs that were never meant to define us in the first place.

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

A big part of what drives my creative journey is the idea that transformation is always possible—even when life doesn’t go the way you planned.
For most of my adult life, I worked as a hairstylist. For over twenty years I sat across from people who were navigating breakups, reinventions, career changes, grief, and new beginnings. I watched people come in carrying the weight of their lives and walk out feeling a little lighter, a little more confident, a little more themselves.
Those experiences shaped how I see the world.
Eventually, that understanding of transformation found its way into my writing. But the real turning point came during a difficult period in my own life. After a relationship ended, I woke up one morning feeling completely lost. I remember sitting in the quiet of my house thinking about all the years of work, effort, and emotional investment I had poured into different parts of my life and wondering what I actually had to show for it.
That moment became the catalyst for everything that followed.
Instead of trying to push those feelings aside, I started writing. The first thing I created was a personal development project called SoulCrafting. It was essentially a collection of lessons, reflections, and practices that helped me process my own healing and growth. I later built a workbook to accompany it, turning those ideas into exercises and prompts.
What began as something deeply personal eventually opened the door to a much larger creative path.
After that, I started experimenting with writing in different ways. I created a small DIY ebook about hair lightening based on my years in the salon. Then one day I decided to try writing a novel. That experiment became the beginning of my fantasy series Aluna. While working on that manuscript, I wrote what I thought would be a quick, lighthearted project called Rent Me Your Heart. What surprised me was how quickly that story grew into an entire supernatural world with interconnected characters and future books.
Today I’m actively building multiple story universes and creative projects that explore transformation from different angles. My fantasy and paranormal fiction explore transformation through characters, magic, relationships, and identity. My personal development tools explore transformation through reflection and intentional growth.
In many ways, everything I create is rooted in the same mission: helping people see that change is possible and that our stories—both the difficult ones and the hopeful ones—can lead us somewhere meaningful.
I’m fascinated by the idea that the moments when we feel most lost often become the starting point for the most creative chapters of our lives.
That belief drives everything I’m building now. Whether someone connects with my work through a novel, a workbook, or a piece of writing about personal growth, my hope is that they walk away feeling a little more curious about their own potential and a little more open to the idea that transformation is always unfolding.
Because in my experience, the chapters we think are endings are often just the beginning of something we never imagined creating.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://ivinkpress.com/ivyksimone
• Instagram: @ivyksimone
• Facebook: (3) Facebook https://share.google/mMs2TnoEkKOAKnHeq

Image Credits

Cerise Hysten