Let me just add
that now there are two twelve year old boys on the roof of my writing room. Said roof has stairs up to it because the Big Plan is that there will be a roof deck there this summer. Currently, however, there is no railing, no anything, to prevent them from plummeting to death or broken bones, at least. And one of them is Not mine. One boy, I mean. How to write Mary and Mary while supervising boys on brink of death, that is what I want to know. And let me also say that I know for sure that Hemingway et al never had to do such things.