Reading Epitaphs; Writing Eulogies
By Kahlo R. F. Smith
My earliest playground memories are set in cemeteries, chasing my brother around family plots and peering through each crypt’s ornate grating. Dad hoped he could keep us from fearing death by making cemeteries sites of joy.
His experiment didn’t work on me, but it did instill a deep love for graveyards. My first cemetery story, written in seventh grade, sprang from a memory of picking flowers for the small headstones of the children’s section. I laid stems on graves and imagined the wind whirring through pinwheels was the ghost of a girl my age.
Graveyards make writing easy. If you’ve ever struggled to name a character, try strolling among headstones—you’ll meet the right person.
There’s more to a headstone than a name, of course. Epitaphs are a niche genre, but a good one engraves itself on our minds just as it’s carved into the stone. You’ve probably heard some famous examples: “I had a lover’s quarrel with the world,” Robert Frost’s grave proclaims. “Go away,” reads Joan Hackett’s. A personal favorite, from Reno’s Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Cemetery: “Ehh-Ohh.” So concise!
Just being in a graveyard can generate ideas. They’re liminal spaces suffused with atmosphere, bridging the worlds of the living and the dead, and they’re also full of glimpses into private moments of grief. A decades-old grave still ringed with fresh flowers. A Raiders flag draped over a headstone. A toddler’s Lightning McQueen quote epitaph. If this tangible evidence of human connection doesn’t make you want to write, respectfully, nothing will. So how can you use cemeteries in your own creative process?
Next time you have the urge to get outside and write, search for local graveyards. Reno has some hauntingly lovely cemeteries, though Virginia City is better known for them. My personal favorite is Hillside Cemetery on Nevada Street. The gate is usually open, and it’s a historical cemetery dating back to the mid-1800s, full of unassuming older graves. The Hillside Cemetery Preservation Foundation writes up signs that tell the stories of people and families entombed there. Take a seat on one of the benches and talk to ghosts for a while.
Finally, consider using the graveyard as a break from your writing practice. Sometimes you need a calm space to cultivate the less product-driven parts of your identity—and sometimes that space is a graveyard.
Photos courtesy of Kahlo R. F. Smith.
Kahlo R. F. Smith (she/it) was born in the redwoods of Felton, CA and is pursuing an MFA in Fiction at UNR. Her work has haunted Luna Station Quarterly, Last Girls Club, and Trembling With Fear. When not hunting Bigfoot or navigating catacombs, it can be found on Instagram @vellumgarden or at kahlosmith.wordpress.com.