After I posted about my pandemic baking, and the process of baking a hummingbird cake as I grieved for my mother, I received positive feedback from unexpected sources: people who rarely if ever comment on my writing and people who I hadn’t spoken to in many years. While the praise was a nice ego stroke at a time when I need reassurance and encouragement, something was off. I knew right away what the problem was, and it was the same problem I had with early drafts of my novel: the writing was solid, but the emotional depth wasn’t there.