When You're Missing the Map
My launch date is looming, and I’m deep in the messy middle. Here’s how I find my way (in business and my novel) when I’m missing the map. (Plus a quick 3-step framework.)
I set myself a launch date for my business: July 16th.
(Yes. In two days. I know.)
That’s the day I’ll tell the world I’ve left twenty years of corporate life behind and officially launched my business.
I’m choosing my moment here. The moment to put a stake in the ground. It’s my Now. Because I want whatever comes next to be as strong as possible.
Before this? I made the decision, a decision that took years of quiet planning, second-guessing, and long conversations with myself about who I want to be. I set it in motion.
And right now, I’m deep in the part in between.
The messy middle
I know the messy middle very well. I’m knee deep in it with my thriller novel. It’s mocking me, probably.
And in marketing? Heck, I know how to build a funnel. I’ve crafted my offer ladder. I know my audience. I’m finalizing my website pages. I know I’ll be testing and tweaking all of it to an inch of its life. Marketing is my thing, after all.
But building a business from the ground up? That’s all brand new.
And while I’m incredibly excited, the truth is: This middle is messy.
Even with a plan, it’s easy to slip into rabbit holes. Rewriting pages, second-guessing decisions, or doom-scrolling social feeds trying to spot the magic algorithm that will make it all feel easier. If I had to admit how many times I’ve deep-researched LinkedIn posts and algorithms trying to crack that nut while still being me, well… let’s just say even last night, McChatty and I disagreed on a few things.
Being here on Substack has helped me define my Before. It’s shown me how I want to show up, how I want to share my thinking, and how I want to connect. It’s reminded me that I’m a writer first. And remembering that makes the map more clear.
But before I started connecting those dots, even I was falling into the same trap so many of us do: thinking the answer was just… more. More content. More posts.
More everything.
The middle is where it’s easy to lose sight.
The middle is where the beginning energy fades. Where everything feels scattered. Where the map you thought was so clear starts looking like a tangled ball of yarn.
I know this feeling intimately.
I’m right there with my thriller. I left it in the messy middle and I know that’s where I have to wade back in. But every time I think of where to start untangling things, I freeze.
As a writer, the middle of a story is where plots go off track. Where you’re muddling through, trying to find the next turning point. Where sometimes, you’re just writing to fill pages, hoping to keep the momentum.
Just create more.
Sound familiar?
“More” feels like progress, doesn’t it? More gets things done.
Except—it doesn’t.
There’s a Hidden Pattern
Whether I’m building a fictional world or helping a client untangle their marketing chaos, the same thing happens:
Everything starts strong.
Energy is high.
Possibilities feel endless.
And then…the middle hits. Momentum stalls. Confidence wavers. Questions pile up like plot twists:
Is this the right strategy?
Do these pieces even connect?
Should we scrap everything and start over?
Maybe we just need to keep creating. More and more.
I used to think that feeling meant I’d made a mistake. But I’ve learned it’s not failure. It’s the nature of anything complex. Because complexity has connections. And when you lose sight of those connections, the middle feels impossible to navigate.
This happens in writing, and it happens in business:
A novel’s plot grows tangled because the threads between scenes aren’t clear.
A marketing funnel collapses because the bridge from one piece of content to the next is missing.
A business vision fizzles because ideas and actions are scattered across too many documents, tools, or team members.
It’s rarely a “motivation problem.”
It’s a missing map.
The Map I Keep Coming Back To
This week, as my self imposed launch date looms closer and there is so much still to do, I realized I’d returned (once again) to the question that always saves me:
“How does this connect to what comes before, and what comes next?”
This is where the magic lives:
In writing, it’s how a single clue dropped in Chapter 2 transforms the ending into a satisfying payoff.
In marketing, it’s how a lead magnet flows into an email nurture, which flows into a sales conversation without friction or feeling forced or random.
In running a business, it’s how your big ideas become consistent actions that build trust and momentum.
Hell, even in vacation planning. It’s how my husband and I ended up deciding on RV life.
Because it’s not enough to start strong. Or to dream about the ending.
You have to build the bridges in between.
Save This: The “Before-After-Next” Lens
If you’re in a messy middle right now, whether it’s a funnel, a novel, or your entire business, try this simple lens:
Before → Now → Next
I know I didn’t create it and I don’t know who first said it, but it works. For anything you’re working on, ask:
Before: What happened right before this? What context, momentum, or emotion is feeding into this moment?
Now: What job does this piece—or this moment—need to do right now?
Next: Where does this lead? What’s the next step that keeps the story—or the business—moving forward?
How I Use This Framework
This framework works across almost any situation. Here are examples in how I’ve used it and continue to come back to it:
In my business launch:
Before: Years of corporate experience working in industries where business was built or lost on trust— and content played a significant role, quiet planning, and the decision to finally step out on my own.
Now: Defining my message, refining my offers, building systems so everything connects and sets effort up to compound
Next: Making a public declaration on July 16th. That moment is as important to me personally as it will be to ensuring my business has momentum and clarity, not chaos.
From my current (loose term, I know) thriller in progress:
Before: My protagonist met a stranger at the gallery where she works in a fleeting moment.
Now: That stranger shows up at a bar one night, where her defenses are down, and she overshares her secrets.
Next: That same stranger returns at a critical moment, and his lies— and the reality of what she shared in those small, early moments— nearly derail her courage when she needs it most.
Without knowing how those scenes connect, the middle would feel random. A filler scene. But because there’s a map, every piece has a job to do.
From a marketing funnel on my website:
Before: A blog post that shares my character profile template sat on my website, gathering dust and zero subscribers.
Now: A few strategic edits pushed it to page one on search engines.
Next: A simple tweak to the subscriber form—offering the option to “Send this template straight to your inbox”—turned it into a steady driver of traffic and new subscribers.
Before connecting those dots, that blog post was just a random act of content. Now, it’s the start of a journey that helps people.
From business operations:
Before: At a previous job, I stepped into a marketing team stuck in weekly fire drills, with no idea what content was being created—or why.
Now: We diagnosed missing strategy, clarified systems, and uncovered hidden bottlenecks.
Next: We built a map assigning ownership, defining repeatable processes, and creating a content calendar that kept everything moving.
Without the map, every week felt chaotic. With the map, momentum returned.
From a single piece of content—a slide deck:
Before: A long, rambling deck of ideas and lessons.
Now: Applied the “What Is vs. What Could Be” framework to shape the story, set vision, and create contrast.
After: That approach transformed the message into a keynote that could hold attention for an hour.
And finally, growing an audience:
Before: You start posting and experimenting, fueled mostly by the excitement of possibility.
Now: Possibility feels out of reach. You’re tempted to feed the beast—just do more, post more, try more, burn it all down and start again. But instead of more, you step back and look at the map. What came before? What comes next? You examine data points from every post, find the thread that truly drives you, and narrow your focus, positioning, and messaging.
After: With a stronger consistency in message, cadence, and approach—and a clear map—your efforts start to compound. Trust builds. Possibility returns.
This lens works everywhere:
Scenes in your novel
Slides in your pitch deck
Steps in your funnel
Projects in your business
Building an audience on social
Planning vacations
It’s how you turn chaos into clarity.
Because the middle only feels messy when you lose sight of how all those pieces fit into the bigger picture.
Why The Map Matters
There are three things I know about the messy middle.
It’s the part that makes you wonder if maybe you’ve chosen the wrong path entirely.
It’s easy to lose sight of what comes next, especially before the impact of compounding effort multiplies.
It’s inevitable. It’s going to happen. There is no way around it. You have to go through it.
But here’s the key:
Your ideas aren’t the problem. The missing connections between them are.
That’s why the middle feels so terrifying. Not because you’re lost, but because you can’t see the path that stitches your beginning to your ending.
The middle often feels like floating on a raft, lost in the middle of the ocean, with no shore in sight.
It’s where momentum from the early notes of possibility dies. Where we start questioning everything. Where chaos sneaks in. And sometimes, it’s where we give up.
But if you recognize the middle for what it is, it’s not the end of the story. Because when you connect the dots, that’s when:
Novels get finished.
Funnels stop stalling out.
Businesses grow with intention instead of panic.
If you’re lost in the middle right now, slow down. Stop doing more for just a minute. Take a deep breath.
Zoom out.
Look at what came before.
Look at what you want to come next.
And start mapping the path between the two.
If you’re feeling like nothing connects, you’re not failing. You’re just in the middle— and you’re missing the map. And the good news?
We can always build one.