risky business
on writing groups, tarot cards, good kings, and going too far//work in process.
I’ve lived in Santa Fe for 30 years, but until last week I’d never had a tarot card reading.
The occasion was “Tarot Tuesday” at the El Rey, a renovated motor court turned hipster hangout. My writers’ group had decided to hold our monthly meeting there instead of the coffee shop where we usually go. Our founding member was thinking about moving away, and she’d come to the bar a few weeks earlier to ask the cards if she was making a mistake. When she told us that the tarot reader suggested she discuss the matter with the forest, we immediately wanted to have our cards read, too.
Driving to the bar, I thought about the question I’d ask. I wanted to hedge against bad news by keeping my query vague, but my friend Marin advised against this. “The more specific, the better,” she said as we waited for our drinks.
The decks were arrayed on a low table in front of a kiva in the lobby. I was expecting a gray-haired woman with a fringed shawl and a velvet skirt, but S was in her late 20s, with blonde hair and cute bangs. Santa Fe’s new woo!
I asked the cards if I was barking up the wrong tree by wanting to travel and explore now that my daughters are almost grown. I mentioned an upcoming solo writing trip, trying to be specific. I didn’t want to abandon my old self, I said, but bring her along too. I worried about creating distance between my family and me. S nodded like she’d heard this all before, from women of a certain age, and then she instructed me to draw my cards.
The first one she turned over showed a body lying down, pierced by spears, lots of spears. That can’t be good, I thought, wincing, but S’s face betrayed nothing. Next to it was a king S called “benevolent.” He called the shots, with kindness. S explained that I’d been the person with the spears jabbing into her but now that I was no longer as bound by my responsibilities, I could spread my wings. I could be the good king in charge of my own kingdom.
Cool!
There were other cards as well. The earth and an empress, a jaunty knight that represented exploration. The sun. The sun! S interpreted the cards: there would be emotions to deal with along the way, sometimes difficult, and she said smiling, “an abundance of love and joy,” also strong female power brought forth through collaboration, not competition. She was speaking my language; it sounded like Flow Camp! Another scary-looking card with more spears indicated “obstacles,” but S pointed out that the adjacent card meant I had choices. I must remember that. It was very important that I go, but at any point I could come home.
This was costing me $2 a minute, so I took one last look at the cards: Challenges, love, emotions, curiosity and wanderlust, balancing responsibility with creative freedom, taking risks but staying connected. It sounded good, it sounded like me. Like anything worth doing, really—writing, running, loving, mothering.
Like….life.
When I rejoined my friends in the bar, we all had a good laugh at how long I’d been gone, and they wanted to know which cards I’d drawn. Thank God I’d thought to take a picture! I showed them my phone, and they swooned over the empress and the sun, the world. “Did the cards affirm your question?” Gina asked. “Don’t they always?” I asked. “Oh no,” she replied, “definitely not.”
Our writing group has been meeting three or four years; I’ve lost count. It’s such a quiet, foundational part of my creative life that it’s easy to forget how important it is—a ballast in the choppy seas of publishing. When we first began, I couldn’t believe what a relief it was to talk to other writers about writing: we could be our weird, neurotic, hopeful, curious selves and not have to explain anything! We could yak and yak about the highs and woes without anyone changing the subject.
We’re not the kind of writing group that shares our writing for feedback. Two in our group teach online courses and already have too many pages to read. I prefer to keep my drafts close till they’re done talking to me. Julia’s a boss journalist who works crazy hours heading up a news daily. What we talk about instead is the process and business of writing. Where are we with our various book projects, and how are we actually making a living? How do we get and keep agents, can you really earn money on Substack? Is anyone still reading books? And what the F is happening with AI?
I highly recommend being part of a writing group. We meet each other’s similarities and differences without judgment, comparison, or unsolicited advice. When one of us is low, the others buoy her up with optimism or outrage, whichever is needed most. We bitch a bit, laugh a lot. We’ve become friends. It’s one of the best things to have happened to me as a writer.
Now one of us is moving away. The forest affirmed her decision, but it wasn’t really the trees’ voice or the tarot’s she heard, it was her own. She told us the story over drinks after the readings. She was going to try it, and if it wasn’t right, well, Santa Fe wasn’t going anywhere. We were glad for her but sad for us. Our writing group was just getting good! Why had we waited so long to find each other, and why had we never thought to go out for drinks in a bar? With tarot!
I was going to Paris for a fiction-writing workshop. The novel excerpt I’d sent with my application had been distributed to the others attendees for their critiques. I hadn’t been expecting that. “You might have guessed because it’s called a workshop,” Julia said, grinning, but I was at the stage in the writing process where it felt premature to get feedback from writers I didn’t know.
Traveling solo, sharing your work, and opening your heart to others is a risk. Sometimes I have a habit of going too far—out on the edge of comfort alone, up a mountain in waning daylight, hustling to get home, and just barely making it back before dark.
In a Paris atelier that was once home to the artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, we talked about my pages. I don’t know how or if it will help my novel, but the knight had told me to keep going, the kind King was like We got this!, and the empress was in my ear whispering, Believe in yourself, bitch, because I do.
I hope these words encourage you to go just a little too far, or just far enough. You decide. And you can always come home.
xo katie
Join me in the mountains of southern Portugal, April 25-May,2, for a week of writing, breath work, rejuvenation, and exploration at Essencia Retreat. Doubles start at $2550, and only a few spaces remain. There are 10 miles of gorgeous trails at Wild View Retreat Center and plenty of time and space for walking, resting, running, reflecting, plus a day trip the coast. Register with code KATIEARNOLDPORTUGAL for 10% off your retreat fee. As always this will be a special group with incredible teachers in a stunning location. Click the links below to learn more and reach out with any questions! I’d love to hear from you!
see you in the flow!
