When You Realize Something’s Missing

Why going back might be the bravest step forward

Hi friend,

Here in Pennsylvania, it feels like spring may finally be peeking out. It could snow again — we all know that — but I have hope now that winter is loosening its grip.

---

I’m a novelist, and last week I discovered a small hole in my current manuscript, Resilient. Nothing catastrophic. But something essential. A missing piece that, if left alone, would weaken the story.

Have you ever experienced that? You think you’re in the final stretch. You’re almost there. And then you realize you forgot something important.

Writing a novel can feel like cooking.

---

If you’ve been doing it for years, you might not need a recipe. You experiment. Adjust the seasoning. Swap ingredients. Trust your instincts.

But especially at the beginning, a roadmap feels comforting.

And even when you’re experienced, sometimes you step back and realize… you forgot an ingredient.

I love watching cooking competition shows. The Great British Baking Show when I want comfort. Chopped when I want pressure. I could never compete on any of them. (And honestly, I wouldn’t want to be on Worst Cooks in America. Though if you want to feel wildly accomplished, watch an early episode. It’s humbling.)

But here’s what always strikes me:
Even skilled chefs occasionally forget something. Salt. The star ingredient. The wow factor.

And they have to decide — can this be saved?

That’s how it felt this week with my novel.

The missing piece wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t dramatic. But it mattered. It deepens a character’s emotional journey. It makes the ending feel earned instead of convenient.

And fixing it means going backward before I can move forward.

---

Which made me wonder…

How often do we do that in our own lives?

We rush toward completion. Toward achievement. Toward “done.”
Only to realize something small but essential needs attention.

A conversation.
A boundary.
A bit of rest.
An apology.

Maybe strength isn’t about finishing fast.
Maybe it’s about being willing to pause and add what’s missing.

I’d love to know — have you ever had to step back and “add the missing ingredient” in something important to you?

Be Well,
Beth Biss