9 Things I've Learned After a Year of Writing about Tarot on Substack
Or, lessons and reflections on writing, tarot, and myself
If you’d rather listen to this newsletter than read it, scroll to the end for the audio! This special feature is available to paid subscribers only. Thank you for your support!
🎉 This Substack turned one this week! 🎈
In true Annie fashion, I almost missed it too. I’ve been rushing around to campus and family events, grading an already procrastinated batch of 40 critical thinking essays, and trying to put together an entire unit of course materials on Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part One (which, I will have you know, remains undone. Un-begun, in fact. Will I be able to complete this miraculous feat on a single Sunday afternoon? The world is about to find out!)
But pausing to celebrate my milestones and achievements has become a mental health and self-care priority for me of late, so this week, I wanted to share with you some of my reflections from this past year. Here are 9 things I have learned about tarot, writing, and myself.
WHAT I’VE LEARNED ABOUT TAROT
1. Our tarot practice can look different every month, week, or even every day.
Some months, I can’t get enough of my tarot cards. I am tuned into my intuition, I feel deeply connected with my cards, and the hits just keep coming! I am overflowing with ideas and connections and I can’t share them fast enough.
Some weeks, it is a miracle I get out of bed and make it to work without calling in sick. If I do pull a tarot card - usually in the morning and only on days I don’t have to leave early for campus - I can’t connect to what it means or think it’s stupid and pointless or trite because everything sucks and who has time for self-improvement anyway.
I read reversals for nearly all of 2023. (Read more about tarot reversals here.) But about a month ago, a reversal came out for a reading I was doing for myself, and something in me just said, “Nope. No more.” And that’s that. I stopped reading reversals again. I might go back to reading them in a few months. Or a few days. We’ll just see where my practice takes me.
It’s pretty commonly accepted that different people have wildly different tarot practices. But sometimes the very same person can have wildly different tarot practices too. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
2. One of the main reasons tarot is looked down upon is because we live in a patriarchy and working with tarot is feminist.
Tarot is a woman-dominated field. It relies on intuition and receptivity, both of which have been coded since the earliest of times as feminine traits (with intellect and activity being coded as masculine). Tarot is also not based on tangible, empirical evidence but rather embraces the value of inner wisdom, inexplicable knowing, gut feelings, and emotions. None of those things are praised or even really taught in our patriarchal institutions of school and the workplace.
To show curiosity in and recognize the inherent value of the more intuitive, emotional, mystical healing arts and practices like tarot is wildly feminist. To poo-poo it merely reflects our socialization and tendency to automatically elevate all things valued by the patriarchy and dismiss, ridicule, and even demonize things valued by feminine and matriarchal societies since the beginning of time. (Read more about the divine feminine here.)
P.S. The world of tarot is also a queer space and reliant on wisdom from various traditions and cultures that belong to people of color, and that is certainly related. (In fact, I will never forget how disrespectful my holier-than-thou white college boyfriend - read more about him here if you must - was to my mother when she brought me an amulet of sorts prepared by an Armenian folk healer when I was going through a rough time in college. You don’t have to be into it, but you don’t have to disrespect it either.)
3. A lot of people are still “in the tarot closet.”
Many people hide their interest in tarot due to a fear of judgement from those in their community, a lack of understanding or acceptance by those closest to them, concern that they’ll lose friends or respect at work, or any other negative consequence or repercussions they think being openly interested in tarot may result in. (See also #2 above.)
In fact, I was blogging about tarot and even posting tutorial videos on YouTube pretty much in secret for years before reaching a point where it started to feel ridiculous to do so. I was enjoying it too much and investing too much time in it to not be open and excited about it. But it wasn’t easy to “come out of the tarot closet,” at least for me, and I still struggle with just how far away from that closet door I can get!
It wasn’t until several months into writing this Substack newsletter and growing my Instagram account that I started to notice some things. People would DM me about how much they loved a certain thing I wrote or how much they are enjoying working with my Inquire Within tarot questions deck, and then apologize for not posting about it because they aren’t open about their tarot practice yet. (Also, absolutely no need to apologize for that. I love that you even know who I am and are interacting with something I created!)
Or I’d see people writing about their first forays into tarot or oracle cards, and I’d notice so many qualifiers and disclaimers in their writing: “Now, I have to warn you, I’m about to get a little woo-woo…” or “I’m not totally into all this mystical stuff, but I must say this oracle deck…” or “Don’t judge me but...” or “Feel free to disregard if this just isn’t your thing…”
I found it really noticeable - and even jarring - as a reader. It really took me out of the writing, and such language had never had that effect on me before. And I realized what was making me feel so deeply for these writers was that I knew exactly why they were doing it and I knew exactly what they must be thinking and feeling writing that post and choosing to share it with their community. It made me want to call them up on the phone and reassure them that they don’t sound even a little bit crazy and that they actually sound really cool and open-minded and thoughtful and smart and please don’t take any stupid comments that you might get by close-minded folks too seriously please.
And this has taught me two things. First, have I grown!? Have I made progress with my own self-consciousness!? I’m still pretty hesitant to talk about my tarot writing in certain circles, so it doesn’t always feel like I’ve grown. But the way others reflect my own progress back to me when it comes to “the tarot closet” has been really encouraging. And I think the fact that I’m writing about tarot is, in turn, really encouraging to others! The thought that I might be playing a tiny part in making someone out there feel a little more comfortable or accepting of their own interest or passion in anything feels really rewarding.
WHAT I’VE LEARNED ABOUT MYSELF
4. Some people just don’t like me, and there’s absolutely nothing I can—or even need to—do about it.
Every now and then, somebody will get triggered or offended by something I say, which is funny to think about because in the grand scheme of life and world issues, how controversial can tarot be?
A few people have gone as far as to troll or bully me on various platforms. And while it is not immediate or easy to get to this point (listening to Tara Brach helps!), I am slowly but surely learning that those particularly mean or ugly cases reveal way more about the other person than they do about me, and I simply cannot take them personally.
But the most enlightening part of it all, actually, has been my realization that nobody ever taught me that not everyone will like me. I literally was never taught that growing up - not by parents, not by teachers, not by coaches, not by friends. And I’m realizing now that because I had never been taught the essential lesson that nobody is liked by absolutely everybody, somewhere in the back of my head, I figured maybe I could be. If I was nice enough, smart enough, cute enough, tried hard enough, was thorough and detailed and sensitive enough in my writing, funny enough, sassy enough, everything enough, in a perfect balance, I could manage to get everybody to like me. I would be the first!
Turns out, if you need to unlearn that delusional lesson, just show up regularly on the internet!
But you know what they say: Haters are a sign of success. Assuming you also have people who relate to you and appreciate your work and find value in what you do, haters mean two things: (1) you are reaching more people than you did before, which means you are bound to have a more diverse group of people seeing your work, and that is bound to include some who don’t care for it; and (2) you are saying something of impact and import, because for every person that hears what you have to say and thinks, ‘Nope, don’t like that!” there’s someone else who reads it and thinks, “Wow, I was just thinking the same thing!” And that’s what you want.
5. Sometimes, I’m basic. And that’s okay.
I haven’t listened to her new double-album extravaganza yet, and I don’t buy all ten versions of the same exact record or anything like that, but I generally like Taylor Swift.
I enjoyed Emily in Paris.
I think Legally Blonde is a perfect movie and I will weave a viewing of it into any college course I possibly can.
I embrace pumpkin spice in the fall. It makes me feel cozy and tells me the end of the semester is near and soon Christmas music will saturate the airwaves and I can wear turtlenecks again and thrive.
Okay?
The best writers and artists are often expected to be dark and avant-garde and into really obscure stuff, especially in the mystical and tarot realm sometimes. And while I do have a lot of niche interests and consider myself a pretty edgy and unique person in many ways, my tastes are also pretty mainstream and commercial.
I remember trying so hard to create a zine once, and I just couldn’t do it. Everything I came up with felt like an NYU grad in a pencil skirt with Anna Wintour breathing down her neck had put it together. It’s who I am! I used to be a fashion attorney for cryin’ out loud!
I think I’m done fighting it.
WHAT I’VE LEARNED ABOUT WRITING
6. There is no use comparing myself to any other writer (or person really, but this category is on writing so I am trying to stay focused).
When I first started exploring Substack as a possible next place to go, I remember coming across a couple huge writers on here, like
and , both of whom I greatly admire. My eyes widened as I discovered how many thousands of people signed up to see what these writers had to say each week or month. I then started going into mental calculations of the potential monthly income they might be pulling in just from their Substack. “Impossible!” I said to myself. “That simply can’t be! Can it? In any event, I’ll certainly never reach those levels.”And then I stopped myself.
Because I knew what the habitual next line of reasoning would be: “You know what? You’re probably right. You’ll never be an [enter name of favorite Substack writer here]. So why even start?”
Looking at some success stories when you’re first starting out on a new venture is a great way to see concrete evidence of the possibilities in store for you, and it’s a great motivator. But after that point, it really needs to be a “keep your head down and just do your thing” type of deal.
Will it be easy to do this? Of course not. We are a world of metrics and numbers and we all have bills to pay. In fact, did you know that every time I log in to Substack to start writing my next post, the first thing I see is a dashboard of analytics telling me how many subscribers I’ve lost or gained that week? And let’s not even get into social media numbers, the obsession over which is certainly enabled by the fact that agents and publishers are always asking to see writers’ “platforms and reach.”
We all work and grow at our own pace. And when it comes to writing specifically, we all have different writing speeds, styles, and audiences. And honestly, a niche newsletter on tarot will never be able to reasonably compete with one on a huge, mainstream topic like fashion or food. And the platform and audience of a professor starting out on Substack, for instance, can’t possibly compete with a New York Times critic or Vogue writer who brought her already established platform here.
(And in case you are reading this and are just starting out on Substack yourself, you should know that I had already been blogging about tarot for a few years before I started this Substack. So I didn’t start at zero subscribers coming in. If you did, then comparing yourself to me would be a misleading waste of time too!)
7. Some of what I say will be misinterpreted.
All artists and creatives already know this, I’m sure. Once we release any creation out into the world, it takes on a life of its own as people consume it, filter it through their own perceptions, engage with it, and respond to it in various ways.
I made an Instagram reel awhile back that went semi-viral. It was for people who were trying to predict the future with their tarot cards but not getting accurate results, and I was pointing them to a different way of reading tarot that works better for me and might work better for them. It wasn’t saying tarot isn’t a tool for divination or that all predictive reading is garbage. I was just sharing my experience and preference in case it resonated with or helped anybody else. But it was also a reel, which meant I had to be sassy and talk fast and cut to the chase.
What I learned from this reel and a lot of other tarot content out there (and content about most things actually), is that we like dividing people up into camps that harbor extreme opinions. That’s easier for our brains to digest and organize and, in turn, makes it easier for us to “pick sides” on all sorts of issues and topics. A lot of people were excited that someone was “finally calling BS on fortune-telling.” And I was excited that they were excited because it meant that they, like me, had found a home in tarot that went beyond predicting the future. I wanted to be clear about my tarot reading style because in the past, like when I was teaching an online tarot course years ago, I wasn’t as clear, and I had some people sign up and ask me how to predict specific time frames, read other people’s minds, channel spirits and deities, and all sorts of things that simply aren’t part of my tarot practice and so I can’t speak on.
In fact, misunderstandings or misreadings can even happen here on Substack, even though one of the joys of this platform is that it allows for more details, longer explanations, and the necessary inclusion of nuance, exceptions, qualifiers, and all sorts of realistic and responsible stuff.
Basically, I’m learning that writing for the public isn’t a classroom. It is not my job to gather everyone on the Internet together for a review session and point out why they may be misquoting the text or neglecting to include context from other passages that would provide a more accurate picture of the author’s intent. That’s just something all writers need to get used to.
And hey, at least people are reading our work! That will never cease to fill me with delight and gratitude.
8. At the end of the day, I pretty much have no idea which posts will resonate the most with my readers.
Some days, I put together something that I kindly refer to as “not my best work” and wonder if it feels to readers as rushed and shallow and disjointed as it disgustingly screams to me from my screen. And I wake up the next morning to find that it was a hit! Some people quite liked it, and even left a kind and insightful comment on it.
Other days, I am so ridiculously proud of a post - like, I can’t stop reading it, it’s so good! I nailed the emotion, the research is good, the literary references make sense, the flow is chef’s kiss, there’s gravitas but also some humor in there, and it all ends with a really helpful tarot spread to give readers an inspiring and actionable next step.
The next morning, I wake up and eagerly check my emails for engagement and…relative crickets. But guess what. Writing regularly has made this occasional reaction perfectly okay, although it’s nobody’s fave. It’s not the end of the world because I enjoyed producing the piece and I have another one to get to for next week anyway so we all move on and that’s that.
Of course, sometimes I love a post and others also really seem to enjoy it too, and a rainbow appears in the sky and bluebirds land on my window sill, and we all enjoy a delicious Sunday morning bagel and smile and smile.
My point is that as writers and artists, we really can’t predict the success of our pieces, so we might as well just do our thing and not worry too much about it. I don’t believe in completely neglecting our readers or audience though - that is, if you’re trying to make money at least. We should notice trends when they appear, and we should listen to our readers when they are gracious and generous enough to ask us questions or make requests. What a gift that has been! But we aren’t mind readers, and focusing primarily on the commercial viability of any endeavor can very quickly take the fun out of it. So most of the time, we can write mostly for and to ourselves and trust that that’s probably good enough!
9. If the thought of publishing something terrifies me a bit, it’s probably definitely worth publishing.
Before I started this Substack, I wrote instructive articles, how-to blog posts, and step-by-step guides about tarot that were very interesting, helpful, and valuable, if I do say so myself.
I hid safely behind them and never gave clicking “Publish” or “Schedule” a second thought.
I started this Substack, however, because I had a lot more to sort through, and a lot more I wanted to say. I wanted to connect more deeply with people who might be going through the same things and confronting the same questions or challenges in their lives.
But even so, every now and then, I’ll spend hours writing something only to read it back and balk, “There’s no way I can publish this - I sound unhinged!” (Like the time my husband offered to extinguish my self-love ritual candle before we left the house and I spent the rest of the day wondering about its symbolic connotations and the future of my marriage).
Other times, I’ll come up for air after typing entire paragraphs in a row and realize my entire face is drenched in tears. (Like the time singing along at a concert made me realize I am utterly terrified of love - being in it and, worse, one day losing it).
Writing does that to us. And if it does that to us, chances are it might have some kind of meaningful effect on a reader too. Those are the real and vulnerable moments that are the most difficult to write about but also often the most rewarding.
Publishing my Substack for an entire year now has taken me from “I wrote a thing” to “I’m a writer.” I am so grateful for the platform, my own relentless ambition and audacity that thankfully manage to peek through the layers and layers of self-consciousness and nerves, and most of all for you, dear reader! Thank you so much for choosing to share your valuable time, attention, dollars, brilliant insights, and heartwarming support with me and letting me be a part of your tarot journey! I appreciate you so much!