Even with my awesome outline outlining the false story of how the Martins became birds and the actual true story of what happened out east and even with an empty house and an awesome fire, it still took me a good three hours to write the pages that tell that story.
Every part ended up being upsetting to me.
But the true story, especially.
“I found a cemetery outside of town with twenty-three headstones all carved ‘Martin.’ All ending in ‘April 21, 1854.’ Even children. Even babies. Big, thick, new padlock on the gate, even now, but I reached through to touch the stones I could. And I stayed there until I couldn’t stand it no more.”