What the Cards Said About My 2026 Writing Journey (And Why I'm Both Terrified and Thrilled)
- Dec 31, 2025
- 8 min read
It was 2 a.m. last night and I was sitting at my kitchen table surrounded by candlelight, two decks of cards, and a cup of tea that had gone cold twice already. The house was quiet except for the occasional creak of old wood settling and my own breathing, which had that particular rhythm of someone who was about to ask the universe a question they weren't entirely sure they wanted answered.
Fun fact about being a writer who also reads tarot: sometimes you need to see the story of your own life laid out in front of you. Sometimes you need symbols and archetypes to tell you what your anxious brain won't let you admit.
So I created a seven-card spread specifically for my writing journey in 2026. Shuffled my tarot deck until the cards felt right. Pulled from my oracle deck (Starcodes Astro Oracle Deck) for additional insight. And what came up?
Well. Let's just say the universe has opinions.
The Reading
I'm going to walk you through this reading the way I'd share it with a friend—which is to say, with complete honesty, occasional existential spiraling, and the kind of interpretation that happens when you let storytelling eyes look at mystical symbols.
1. Your Creative Foundation (What Strengths You Bring)
The Magician + Solar Calm (Reversed)
I laughed when I flipped these. Of course. Of course.
The Magician is the card of having all the tools at your disposal—wand, cup, sword, pentacle laid out on the table like a writer's arsenal. Craft, imagination, structure, persistence. Everything you need to create magic is already in your hands. That's the strength I bring. I know how to do this. I've built worlds, written characters, studied craft until my brain could teach workshops in my sleep.
But Solar Calm in reverse? That's the universe gently (or not so gently) pointing out that all those tools don't mean much when you can't see clearly what you're building. Clarity's been slippery lately. I have the Magician's confidence but the reversed card whispers: You're working through fog, love. That's okay. But name it.
The foundation is solid. The vision? Still coming into focus.
2. Current Challenge (What Obstacle or Lesson You Face)
Five of Swords + Transits (Reversed)
Oh, this one stung a little.
The Five of Swords is the card of hollow victories and internal conflict. It's winning arguments with yourself at 3 a.m. about whether your writing is "good enough." It's the exhausting mental chess game of self-sabotage. You know the one—where you're simultaneously your own champion and your own worst critic, and both sides are armed.
Paired with Transits reversed? That's unstable ground. Changing conditions you can't quite predict. The climate of your creative life shifting in ways that feel unsettling.
The lesson: Stop fighting yourself. The challenge isn't external—it's the war you wage in your own head, the one where you pick up those swords and question everything right when you should be putting words on the page.
(I felt very called out by these cards. The cards did not apologize.)
3. Hidden Inspiration (Overlooked Sources of Creativity)
The Moon + Virgo (Digest)
Now this—this made me sit back and smile.
The Moon is the card of the unconscious, of dreams and intuition and all those strange, liminal spaces where stories brew before you're consciously aware of them. It's the realm of symbols and shadows and truths that only reveal themselves when you stop trying to force them into the light.
And Virgo energy is about digesting, processing, making sense of all those raw materials your unconscious keeps feeding you.
The hidden inspiration? It's in the dreams I've been ignoring. The weird images that pop up while I'm washing dishes. The half-formed ideas I dismiss as "too strange" or "not commercial enough." The Moon says: Those strange things are gifts. Let Virgo help you process them into something you can use.
Stop overlooking the weird stuff. The weird stuff is where the magic lives.
4. What to Release (Habits or Beliefs to Let Go)
Ten of Swords + Debilitated (Reversed)
Dramatic much, universe?
The Ten of Swords is the card of absolute endings. The moment of apparent defeat. Rock bottom. That image of swords stuck in someone's back while they lie face-down under a dark sky. It's theatrical in its despair.
But here's the thing about the Ten of Swords that people forget: the worst has already happened. The sky is already lightening on the horizon. The only direction from here is up.
Paired with Debilitated reversed? The cards are saying: Stop dwelling in the discomfort of past failures. Stop replaying your defeats like they're the only story you know how to tell.
What to release: The drama of my own supposed failures. The narrative where everything that didn't work out was a sword in the back instead of just... information. Data. Experience.
Let the theatrical ending be over. Get up. Walk toward that lightening sky.
5. What to Embrace (Practices That Will Serve You)
The Star + Capricorn (Reversed)
This pairing is chef's kiss levels of perfect contradiction.
The Star is hope. Pure, shining, "we're-going-to-make-it" hope. It's the card that appears after The Tower has burned everything down, after The Moon has taken you through the dark, and says: Here. Have some light. Have some healing. Have some faith in what comes next.
But Capricorn reversed? That's the universe saying: Not through grinding. Not through ambitious climbing. Not through traditional achievement metrics.
What to embrace: Hope without hustle. Faith in the process without killing yourself to hit arbitrary milestones. The practice of trusting that showing up consistently, gently, sustainably will get you where you need to go better than any amount of forcing.
(This is very much a "work smarter, not harder" message wrapped in cosmic imagery, and I'm here for it.)
6. Your Writing's Purpose (The Impact Your Words Will Have)
Six of Cups + Taurus (Reversed)
I'm not crying, you're crying.
The Six of Cups is nostalgia, innocence, inner child work. It's the card of gifts given freely, of memories that shape us, of returning to wonder. In the context of writing purpose? My words will reconnect people with something they'd forgotten. Some part of themselves they left behind. Some sense of wonder or possibility or feeling they thought they'd outgrown.
And Taurus reversed says: This isn't about cultivating a platform or building an empire or forcing growth through sheer determination. This is gentler than that. More organic.
My writing's purpose: To be the book someone needed when they were young. To give readers permission to feel things deeply. To create the cozy, magical spaces where people remember what it's like to believe in stories.
Not to build. To connect.
7. Year's Outcome (Where You'll Be by Year's End)
The World + Aries (Reversed)
The World. The final card of the Major Arcana. Completion, integration, arriving at a new level of understanding. It's the card that says: You did it. You went through the entire cycle. You learned what you needed to learn.
But Aries reversed? That's not the aggressive, charging-forward version of success. That's success that comes from receptivity rather than force. From allowing rather than pushing. From being instead of doing.
By the end of 2026, I'll have completed something significant. A cycle, a project, a transformation. But I'll do it by releasing the need to conquer, by embracing a gentler form of action, by trusting the process instead of trying to control every step.
I'll arrive at The World not because I fought my way there, but because I finally learned how to stop fighting.
What This Actually Means
Here's what the cards are telling me about my 2026 writing journey when I look at them through my author-who-loves-narrative-arcs lens:
The Plot: I have all the tools and skills I need (Magician), but I'm starting the year in a fog (Solar Calm reversed), fighting internal battles (Five of Swords) in unstable conditions (Transits reversed). The story arc requires me to stop overlooking my unconscious wisdom (The Moon), stop dwelling on past failures (Ten of Swords), and embrace hope without hustle (The Star). When I do this, my writing will create emotional resonance and inner child healing (Six of Cups), leading to completion and integration by year's end (The World)—but only if I approach it receptively rather than forcefully (all those reversed cards).
The Theme: Surrender is not the same as giving up. Sometimes the most powerful action is allowing.
The Character Arc: From warrior fighting herself to creator trusting the process.
Your Next Steps (Because You Need Them Too)
Whether you read tarot or not, whether you believe in this kind of thing or just find it interesting, here's what I'm taking from this reading—and what you can apply to your own creative journey:
Do this today:
Identify one internal argument you're having with yourself about your writing. Name it. Write it down. Then ask: "What if I just... stopped fighting this?"
Pull out a notebook and free-write about a weird image or dream that's been haunting you. Don't judge it. Just let it exist on the page.
Do this this week:
List three "failures" from your writing past. For each one, rewrite the story as data, not defeat. What did you learn? What information did it give you?
Choose one sustainable practice that brings you joy (not productivity, joy) and commit to it three times this week. Morning pages. A writing sprint with favorite music. Rereading a book you love.
Do this in the next 30 days:
Define what "hope without hustle" looks like for your writing life. What would it mean to trust the process without grinding yourself down?
Identify your Six of Cups moment: What did your younger self need from stories? How can your writing provide that for someone else?
Set one goal for 2026 that's about completion rather than achievement. Finishing a draft. Finishing a revision. Finishing the process of learning something new. The World card doesn't ask you to win—it asks you to complete the cycle.
The Truth at the Bottom of the Deck
Look, I don't know if tarot cards actually predict the future or if they're just elaborate mirrors that help us see what we already know but won't admit. Maybe it's a little of both. Maybe the magic is in the act of sitting down in candlelight and asking the universe—or your own unconscious—to tell you a story about yourself.
What I do know is this: these cards told me I need to stop fighting and start trusting. That I need to honor the weird, release the drama, embrace gentle hope, and remember why I started writing in the first place—not to build an empire, but to create connection.
That's a story I can work with.
That's a journey I'm ready to take.
Until next time,
Indigo
Have you ever done a tarot reading for your creative work? Or used any other divination/reflection practice to check in with your writing journey? I'd love to hear about it. Drop a comment—let's talk about the intersection of mysticism and storytelling, because that's basically my brand at this point.
And if you're feeling called to it: What would YOUR 2026 writing journey look like if you stopped fighting and started allowing? Just something to think about. Or read tarot about. Your choice.
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