The Ten of Lunga (Swords)—Dark Night of the Soul
Tarot Tuesday
“When the Ten of Swords comes up, you’ve bottomed out.” —Michelle Tea, MODERN TAROT
Deck: THE PASTA TAROT by Jeff Petriello and Rob Truglia (authors), Lindsay Mound (illustrator)
My sister gave me THE PASTA TAROT deck last year for Christmas. It’s a fun one, even if it makes me hungry every time I use it. In this deck, each pasta shape corresponds to a suit in the traditional tarot: wands = corta (short pasta), cups = ripiena (stuffed pasta), swords = lunga (long pasta), pentacles = minuta (tiny pasta).
See what I mean? I’m hungry already.
I pulled the Ten of Lunga today, corresponding to the Ten of Swords. For clarity’s sake, I’ll refer to the card as Ten of Swords in today’s post.
Ten of Swords
I wrote about the Ten of Swords in an earlier newsletter. If you prefer a more reflective interpretation of the card, you’ll want to go back and read it. Today’s post will focus on an aspect of our creative work: crime/mystery novel structure.
Sometimes, I pull a card and it doesn’t apply to anything going on in my current life. In the Ten of Swords’ case, that’s probably a good thing because its traditional meaning tends to be heavy, denoting defeat, calamity, and finality. Thankfully, I’m feeling light this morning.
A card’s meaning can vary depending on several factors, including the specific deck used, who’s doing the reading, and/or the reference books used. I could certainly reach for a meaning beyond this card’s face value, but instead, I immediately thought of story structure and what’s known as the “Dark Night of the Soul.”
Now, before you conclude you’re not a writer and what follows couldn’t possibly be helpful, I suggest you read the post anyway. Even though I’m talking about fictional characters, the lessons discussed also apply to our real lives.
As with all tens, the Ten of Swords represents the end of a cycle and, to some extent, the early stages of a new beginning. Within the three-act structure, you can think of it as the end of Act Two, nearly breaking into Act Three.
Before I continue, if you need a brief refresher on character arcs and A and B stories, read this post.
In Act One and much of Act Two, your protagonist spends most of their time trying to achieve their external goal. In the case of a murder mystery, this is probably solving a murder. Their efforts have undoubtedly led to some successes. Still, their ignorance of their fatal flaw/shard of glass, which has always been the real problem, has resulted in a series of mistakes and, probably, some enemies who are now demanding their due.
Congratulations! You’ve arrived at my two favorite Save the Cat story beats: All is Lost and Dark Night of the Soul.
The “All is Lost” beat is precisely that—the bottom has dropped out, and there’s little hope your protagonist will prevail. Their internal and external enemies have risen to claim victory, leaving your protagonist exhausted, demoralized, and maybe even physically injured. All of their choices, good and bad, have brought them to this moment, and it appears as if defeat is imminent. What will they do now?
The “Dark Night of the Soul” follows “All is Lost," allowing your protagonist to lick their wounds. Moving forward will require a period of reflection and soul-searching. The Ten of Swords asks your protagonist to resist playing the victim and face up to their role in whatever’s gone wrong. It’s a painful but necessary process.
When you pull the Ten of Swords in your personal tarot practice, that’s precisely what it’s reminding you to do, too. No one is suggesting you beat yourself up because God knows it’s easy to do when the shit hits the fan. But honest self-reflection is important for personal growth, so suck it up and do it because it’s an integral part of healing.
I suppose an argument can be made that the Ten of Swords represents both the “All is Lost” and “Dark Night of the Soul” beats, but I’m not entirely convinced. When “All is Lost,” there’s no time for thoughtful reflection—survival is the only goal. It’s only after the dust has settled that your protagonist can assess the situation and figure out what, if anything, can be done to save the day. And though the Ten of Swords acknowledges hitting bottom, it’s meaningless without that extra bit of self-examination.
In story structure, the real magic of the “Dark Night of the Soul” beat is that once all that wound-licking is finished, your protagonist has new insight into what they need to do to achieve victory. There is often a revelation that only happens because the character takes this moment (or action, as the case may be) to reevaluate their position. The resulting clarity reveals a path forward and launches us into Act Three.
Not all novels take the story beats quite as literally as I’ve laid them out here. They don’t necessarily feature a protagonist who sits in a dark room brooding over all the ways they went wrong during the “Dark Night of the Soul.” This beat can take on many different shapes. Trust that you’ll find the right one for your story.
Tuesday Recommendations
I really enjoyed Duane Swierczynski’s (Gleeful Mayhem) latest post, “The Mystery of My Great Aunt Marta.” I’m a genealogy nerd—I’ve written histories of both sides of my family—and there’s nothing more enticing to me than a genealogical rabbit hole.
Thanksgiving is over, but if you still need a good turkey recipe, I’ve used this one for three years and it comes out perfectly every time. This year, instead of brushing it with olive oil before roasting, I used melted butter and it made a big difference. Highly recommend.
The Jealous Curator on Instagram and Substack. A daily dose of art is good for my soul.
Enjoy your week!
Holly xx