NOTES FROM THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT

Welcome to the Graveyard Shift

Welcome to the Graveyard Shift

Most people clock off work and head to the sofa. I clock off and head to the graveyard. It’s quieter there. No ketchup shortages. No fishfinger tragedies. Just the crows, the moss, and me… and the occasional dog walker no doubt judging me for taking about fifty-million photos of the gravestones.

Hello, I’m Emma, or EFP to some - writer, artist, lunchtime supervisor, and frequent haunter of overgrown graveyards. I was late-diagnosed autistic, which explained a lot, like why the lunch queue feels like a scene from a horror film, or why perimenopause brain fog sometimes leaves me staring into space wondering if I’ve become one of the ghosts I like sketching so much.

This Substack, Notes from the Graveyard Shift, is where I’ll ramble about once a week. Expect a mix of:

• Overheard gems from the lunch hall (children are savage little philosophers armed with expertly timed eyerolls and an abundance of ‘bro’ in their vocabulary).

• Gothic musings on nature, art, and graveyards – with Netflix and True Crime documentary binges for balance.

• Neurospicy revelations.

• The absurdities of midlife, perimenopause, and trying to function with health issues.

• And probably at least one rant about a printer (almost certainly possessed) that refuses to print!

Why am I doing this? Honestly, the “morning pages” I’ve been scribbling lately have reminded me that my rambling brain is less of a problem and more of a magic trick - the kind where instead of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, you pull out an oddly-shaped pebble or a half-baked revelation that might just be worth sharing. If I can turn the chaos in my brain into a small, weekly dispatch that makes someone nod, laugh, or feel a bit less alone, well, that definitely seems worth it to me.

So, this is me, on the Graveyard Shift, straddling the line between gothic aesthetics and school-dinner reality, between neurodivergent honesty and mildly sarcastic humour, with healthy doses of my writing and art journey thrown in for good measure.

Thanks for reading the first note. Next time, I’ll tell you why Inktober (or Picktober in my case) is basically an endurance sport, and why pumpkins might be the most misunderstood members of the vegetable kingdom.

Until next time, keep your fishfingers safe and your gravestones mossy.

Emma x