Writing Without Ambition
The 10 of Swords, 10 years apart. (11, but I am being youthfully dramatic.)
The first time the 10 of Swords appeared in a tarot reading, I was in Seoul. The tarot reader was speaking in Korean and my friend translated for me. We were laughing (though the tarot reader was not), because this is what that card looks like:
Imagine being 23, hoping the tarot would tell you when you’ll meet the love of your life, and getting this instead. And yet it felt accurate: I was exhausted. A few months before, I had moved at New York City and was working at The Paris Review. This was after a year of living at home in New Jersey, fruitlessly applying for jobs, unpaid internships, and picking up gig work, one of which involved steam-ironing clothes for a DKNY runway show. I really enjoyed the tactile, focused nature of that three-day gig, but was let go a day early because of my shoddy work. Which to this day I blame on the steam iron – they just don’t get small wrinkles out! Ironing boards for president!
Through my sister’s childhood friend’s father in India, an executive at an international ad agency, I was able to get an interview for a receptionist job at their New York branch. It went very well, but they told me I was overqualified, so they hooked me up with an interview for some sort of junior copywriting role instead. The junior copywriter interview was more of an interrogation, and it was obvious that the corporate hipster-types interviewing me were irritated about having to pause their busy days to humour some man in India, and by extension, me, who would have preferred the receptionist job. I was just as aware of my lack of experience as they were. They treated me like I had some gall to apply for this coveted role, as if I was some sort of nepo baby who felt entitled to it, when really, I was just a 22-year-old dying to get out of her parents’ house. At that point I had even demoted my ambitions from trying to find work in publishing to trying to find any work at all that would allow me to live in the city and go on OK Cupid dates without needing to worry about parallel parking.
By the time I got an internship and then a maternity-cover job at The Paris Review, I was so numb from all the little rejections and humiliations of job hunting – furious at friends who complained about their ‘boring’ jobs in the city – that I barely clocked it as a triumph. People told me I was lucky, and I agreed, but translated that in my head to ‘you don’t deserve this’. People who treated me indifferently suddenly started paying attention to me, in case I could score them a party invite. This should have made me feel good or at least powerful, but instead I felt like a man laying face down with 10 swords in his back. The tarot reader in Korea told me I was in pain, but I giggled it off – I was on vacation, I was living my best life, I did not know you could be sad and successful at the same time. Well, I did know – Britney sang it – but the bargain I’d made with the universe when job hunting was: Give me The Paris Review and I promise I will never complain about anything ever again. That job was the only thing I liked about myself. To admit that I still wasn’t happy despite the miracle of actually getting it was – in my mind – daring the universe to snatch it from me.
The 10 of Swords appeared again, for the second time in my life, this week. The question I had asked was: ‘What strengthens me?’ (This was part of a spread Cameron Steele designed for the new moon in Leo, in her always-amazing newsletter interruptions.) I was tempted to write it off as a fluke and pull another card – how on earth could an image of a man laying face-down with ten swords in his back symbolise strength? But as the old adage goes, you have to work with the cards you are dealt. And this time, the card was reversed.
I wonder if the first 10 of Swords card from Korea (upright) is bookending this 10 of Swords card I pulled a few days ago (reversed). The first one appeared after I got the Paris Review job, and the second one appeared after a different (outward-facing) literary achievement: my novel being published. During this 11-year period, ambition motivated me more than the desire to tell some important story that had been rattling away in my soul. (No shade to Ghost Chilli but is neither urgent nor necessary.) (Please read it.) Maybe now, with 10 swords falling out of my back, I can release all the little resentments I have picked up in trying to publish this novel. People I suspect underestimate me, or don’t take me seriously, or think my work is garbage, or don’t think of me at all. Maybe strength comes from moving the hell on and writing without trying to prove that I am a writer – writing without ambition.
In the Tarot Bytes podcast on the 10 of Swords, Theresa Reed (The Tarot Lady) connects the card with the histrionics of youth, feeling like any small slight is the worst thing ever. That tracks – as my friend who translated the Korean reading for me says, ‘One sword could do the job’. But in the youthful extra-ness of the 10 of Swords, I want to end this newsletter with:
10 Things (Very Strong Tonal Shift Just FYI)
At first I thought that neo-toddlerism piece making the Substack rounds made sense, but upon further reflection, I hate it. The premise of it is: the news is not as bad as ‘the media’ is making it out to be, and therefore contemporary protest is an act of mass narcissism. Sorry, man, but 40,000 dead Palestinians and the climate crisis is that bad, to say nothing of the far right goons sniffing around for any opportunity to burn down mosques. I think overly performative activism is pretty annoying too, but I’m not sure that’s the thing blocking real, structural change. (That would be oil companies, arms deals, and bad policy-making.) I know my distaste for the piece will compel some to call me a ‘neo toddler’ – a very convenient way to dismiss a valid point – but that’s fine. Because the piece is not an argument as much as it is an attempt to introduce a new buzzword into the discourse and call it a day.
I recently subscribed to Current Affairs and cannot recommend it enough. In their latest newsletter, I read some encouraging news about tenants’ rights organisations gaining real political traction across the USA, as well as about how used Wimbeldon tennis balls (which are too worn-out to be reused in games) are being re-purposed as little hiding shelters for endangered mice. It was a much-needed antidote to bullet point 1.
I feel like I read something this week about how somebody was trying to find a less violent alternative to the term bullet point? Did I dream this? Sometimes I read so much discourse it all blends in.
I don’t know if I can commit to 10 bullet points…
Oh! Here’s a great piece about overtourism in Florence by Emiko Davies, who I was thrilled to find on Substack after editing her recipe column at Food52. Her rigatoni with “cowboy” pasta sauce is divine. (I am counting this as two bullet points.)
This New Yorker review of Sarah Manguso’s Liars was interesting. ‘A little proportion, please’ is a fantastic zinger, especially when the counterpoint mentions arranged marriages.
Fascinating read on how irony could be used more effectively in political campaigning. More effectively than Kamala meme-ification, imo. (Also counts as two points.)
I am so glad going desktop / mobile browser–only for Instagram has not slowed down my various reel-ationships. One of these has now become an exchange of exclusively shrimp-related reels, like this and this. (This just counts as one bullet point.)
Shrimply yours,
Nikkitha