Snow-Dark Crossing: New Book Coming Soon.

I am excited to announce that  my newest Liam Dutra New England Mystery, SNOW-DARK CROSSING, will be out in late April!

Here is the Author's Note, which gives a sense of where this book came from:


   In common with my other six novels, Snow-Dark Crossing was born when my own memories, imaginings, and explorations of certain places crossed paths with historical writings that showed up—fortuitously—on my horizon.

            In the case of this book, there were two dominant places: the Barre Street/Granite Street neighborhood of Montpelier, Vermont, with its vestiges of the once-strong granite industry, and the rural River Road area along the Winooski, just outside of town. (This latter area also haunts much of Highway In The Blood.)

            As for the history: in my first year of work as library assistant at Montpelier’s Main Street Middle School, I came across on our shelves a book by Maudeen Neill entitled Fiery Crosses In The Green Mountains (Greenhills, 1989.) The  accounts inside, in particular those of the occurrences at Saint Augustine’s Church in November of 1925, stayed with me,  eventually meeting  up with the story emerging from my imagination as I explored the aforementioned places. This led to further research, and a deepening story.

            While the events at St. Augustine’s really happened, there is no evidence, historical or anecdotal, that anything like the dark and depraved deeds described in this novel ever really took place along the River Road. But in writing mystorical fiction I have learned that it is crucial that I trust the story that arrives, and the voices that bring it to me.

                                                                            —KMB

I will be posting the first chapter soon--   I hope you will stay tuned!

A Way Beyond Words (some thoughts on writing)

"If the mind were constructed on optional lines and if a book could be read the same way as a painting is taken in by the eye, that is without the bother of working from left to right and without the absurdity of beginnings and ends, this would be the ideal way of appreciating a novel, for thus the author saw it at the beginning of its conception."
-Vladimir Nabokov  -THE ART OF LITERATURE AND COMMONSENSE

I bookmarked this passage when I first came across it in Nabokov’s LECTURES ON LITERATURE, because it resonated so fiercely with my own experience as a writer. I come back to it now, because I have somehow found myself in the position of making final edits on a soon-to-be-published book and also at the very start of a new book’s fresh and raw first draft.

 

Each of my novels has begun as a sort of yearning energy summoned from, it seems, the act of moving through certain places and feeling a sense of something powerful going on there in a simultaneous past and present.  This “yearning towards” may go on for a while—weeks or months--but then there seems always to come a time when things focus and the book suddenly appears to me whole and finished—I can feel the weight of it, see the words and spaces on the pages, understand absolutely in a way beyond words what the book has to say and transmit.

Ah, but then I have to write it.  That becomes the daily work, sometimes flowing and effortless, other times close to impossible. Each draft does seem to bring the book closer to that initial vision. And eventually, first readers’ and editor’s comments and suggestions will be taken and addressed in the light of that first apparition. Details may shift and change, but the book will, for better or worse, arrive at being itself: Paradoxically, words will accrue to transfer the wordless energies that inspired in the first place

All of this was clarified to me further yesterday, when I came across another passage in my reading, this time the story of the bell-stand carver in THE WAY OF CHUANG TZU ( Thomas Merton’s translation is the version I was reading.)

  Khing, a woodcarver, is asked the secret behind the beauty of the bell-stand he had carved. He explains that there is no secret, but that the wood itself—and his own focus on the “single thought of the bell-stand”--tuning out all distractions--was necessary to the outcome.  

 

 What Khing says next makes deep sense to me:

   “Then I went to the forest

    To see the trees in their own natural state.

   

     When the right tree appeared before my eyes,

     The bell stand appeared in it, clearly, beyond doubt.

    

      All I had to do was to put forth my hand

      And begin.”

   I’ll be keeping these words in heart and mind as I explore the surprises of a first draft, as I ferret away at the fussy details of a final proof.  And I’ll do my best to keep my focus and desire on the original vision as it first appeared: clearly, beyond doubt.

       -KMB 

Winter's Edge-- One Last Painting

Toward Lost Ranger Peak, Winter Dawn

Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor and graphite on paper, 2014.

              Only a few more days until spring, or so I hear. It has been a cold winter here in Vermont. I am almost out of the paint that has made up my winter palette, so that's pretty good timing, I think. Here's what will likely be my last finished painting for this winter. This is a view toward the Continental Divide, from Clark, Colorado, made from sketches done last December.

And now, with spring on the horizon, I'll be switching focus for a while, getting my newest book ready for publication in late April. I will be reporting further before long.-KMB

A Writer's Window

     I am far from the first to share the feeling that writing fiction can feel like a lonely pursuit at times. I am fortunate to have a few creative venues in my life, and I have learned that surrendering to the sustained alternate reality of writing a novel day after day can be fulfilling in a way that is opposite to the fulfillment that comes with, for example, performing music for an immediate audience. That said, when an appreciative letter or email from a reader comes along, it can really make my day. Such letters have let me know that I am on the right track, that what I feel resonating might indeed be transferred to resonate with another person as they read.  I can’t help but think of what John Cheever said so elegantly:  “The room where I work has a window looking into a wood, and I like to think that these earnest, loveable, and mysterious readers are in there.”

   

 A few years ago I experienced a moment when that window opened in another way. I had finished my first two novels, and though neither had been published yet, I had made some headway selling articles about running and outdoor exploration to magazines and newspapers. I was working as a record store manager in downtown Montpelier, Vermont at the time, and had just had a very personal essay about running, history, and memory in Gloucester, Massachusetts published in the magazine NEW ENGLAND RUNNER.   I was at work in the store one busy Saturday when a young woman and man walked in. The young man roamed the CD racks. But the young woman was obviously not interested in shopping for music. Instead, she stood in a quiet corner, reading a copy of NEW ENGLAND RUNNER—bought most likely at the sport store across the street. It was clear from her body language that she was utterly lost in what she was reading:  there was no page-flipping; her eyes stayed on the page; a focused intensity was visible on her face. Somehow, I knew exactly which article she was reading.

  I helped some customers. A few minutes later I walked past the young woman, who was still reading quietly. Of course--and I will admit that it felt invasive to do so-- I could not stop myself from taking a very quick glance at the page open in her hands. Yes, she was reading the Gloucester article. I felt a little chill as I went on to greet another customer.

  

  It might be that famous authors get used to seeing their words read by strangers in public places.  But for me it felt like I had received something sacred--experiencing through outward signs that my words could be read deeply.  Though part of me still needs to make peace with my actions in sneaking that glance, the larger part remains grateful for what I received that day.

  Now, with plans to delve into a new first draft on the horizon, along with final edits on a novel that will be out in the spring, it is almost time to sit down again with the screen and  page before me.  Also before me will be windows that look into the woods, toward those mysterious, welcoming readers in there, out there, and beyond. 

-KMB

From a Journey, Part Two: Colorado Watercolors

     MOUNT ZIRKEL WILDERNESS FROM CLARK, COLORADO, WINTER LIGHT AND SHADOW.

     BIG AGNES MOUNTAIN AND MOUNT ZIRKEL FROM CLARK, COLORADO.

       Paintings by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor and graphite on paper, 2014.

Moving through this winter, I have been working from my Colorado sketchbooks to make some finished watercolor paintings. I remain deeply haunted and awed by the shapes, colors, and textures of the mountains in the Mount Zirkel Wilderness Area, along the west side of the Continental Divide, up near the Wyoming border.
Here are two paintings made at home in Vermont, working from pencil sketches I did while on a snowy trail run near Vista Verde Ranch in December.-KMB

From a Journey: Colorado Sketchbook

I spent the winter holidays with family in the mountains of Colorado, up near the Mt. Zirkel Wilderness.
I sketched and painted every day, blissed and excited by the scale and surprise of this incredible landscape. Some days the winter sun warmed me-- I felt like I was outside in the spring; other days a cold wind in clear mountain air kept my  hands and brushes from making any but the broadest of gestures and strokes: ELK RIVER MEDITATION, the calligraph at the bottom of the page, was created with watercolors mixed with snow, using pine cones and spruce needles as brushes.-KMB

Sketchbook pages by Kevin Macneil Brown, December 2013.

December Light (watercolor painting)

DECEMBER LIGHT- Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor on paper, 2013.

 Today is the winter solstice in this northern hemisphere, the beginning of returning light. As this sacred and powerful time unfolds, I want to take the time to say thank you to all who have shared in my music, art, and words, and to wish you all the best in the days at hand and ahead.

It has been a busy autumn-- great painting light, lots of music. In early December I finished a final draft of the fourth Liam Dutra New England  mystery novel, SNOW- DARK CROSSING. It goes back to the editor in January, and should be out in April. For now I am taking a break from focused writing work, instead enjoying the luxury of reading for pleasure in the mornings. 

Again, best wishes to all; I'll leave you with this new winter solstice poem:   

In cold terrain, from winter rock,

enclosed and protected

by bare branch, bending hemlock

the wellspring rises,

breaks the hollow song of ice:

Water with the clarity of light.

 the pulsing of all deeper life

 revealed, renewed, free-flowing,

 centered;

In December darkness,

stillness entered.

-Kevin Macneil Brown, December 2013.

Lake Champlain, Winter Light (watercolor painting.)

LAKE CHAMPLAIN, WINTER LIGHT

painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor on paper, 2013.

Iced in at home on the winter solstice, I decided to paint a scene from a remembered December day two years ago, when I walked the shore at Burlington from Oakledge to Perkins Pier in cold and changing afternoon light.-KMB

Big Sky Music

November is big sky season  here in Vermont. This composition from a few years back is inspired by the November horizon, the colors and textures of that open sky after autumn leaves have fallen. It was made with steel guitar and tuned glass bowls.

CHROMA HORIZON II is one of six of my compositions that can be heard in the soundtrack to FREEDOM AND UNITY: THE VERMONT MOVIE. I am honored to be part of this amazing project that goes deep into the place that I call home:

http://thevermontmovie.com/

DAWN, WINOOSKI RIVER ( painting and poem)

DAWN, WINOOSKI RIVER - painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor on paper, October 2013.

Old moon, shining, sets.

The opposite sky is steeped in the luminous

blood of new roses.

Last leaves shimmer in hard darkness.

Cold wind, slicing, Pleistoscene

finds long-lost dreams

of flint, fog, footpath;

dark spruce and blue-black

homeward waters.

-Kevin Macneil Brown

October (watercolor painting)

OCTOBER- Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor and graphite on paper, 2013.

Seven Randomly Chosen Sunrises

Sandpiper Summer

 Late summer now, and it seems that each of my running journeys makes its way to a shore: hard-packed mud or pebbled bar along the Winooski River; sandy urban beaches along Lake Champlain at Burlington. And in these places I keep meeting up with the sandpiper—that fleet, long-legged shorebird with plumage the pale, summer-washed gray and sandy dun of distant ocean beaches, that pealing ripple of song as the bird runs, feet wet, wings lifted up and held back, along the light-silvered shore.

 

 I’ve come to feel a connection with the sandpiper this summer. I, too, have been solitary and shore-exploring, drawn to liminal places: meetings of water, land, moving light.

And as the summer reaches fullness and ripening, I feel the sense of something finished, of movement on— no, toward— a different horizon.

 

  The time alone has been time well-spent—long runs for meditation, contemplation, motion, memory. This has fed the work I’ve made: the long sound art composition THE HARBOR AT DAWN, the series of Lake Champlain watercolor paintings that began with sketches made beginning last summer and that I finished this week. I feel myself carrying a sense of completion; of deep, deep feelings recognized, engaged with, and acted upon-- with focus and discipline; with patience, effort, and love.

 Also, all that time for reading. Just enough band practices, gigs, shifts at the Kellogg-Hubbard Library, and dinners with Robin to keep me from total isolation. I am grateful to have gone deep this summer. I have come out different.

 There is still a sense of uncertainty about major things ahead—domicile in particular. But the school year begins anew in less than two weeks, and I look forward to the intensity of middle school energy. There are lots of gigs on the near horizon, and singing and playing steel guitar with the great musicians I have the privilege to work with is an utter joy. And my creative decks are cleared for beginning draft three of Dutra mystery novel number 4, with first-readers’ notes compiled and partially contemplated—ready to roll sometime in the fall.

  Back now, to that late-summer sandpiper, running on hard-packed sand alongside blue-green water. The breaking white of small waves;  a hazed August sky above.  A ringing call rises, sounding above the white noise of those waves. The shorebird runs, wings swept back, held high, now lifting, lifting--lifted…

  

 Journal entry and watercolor sketch by KMB, August 2013.

Ask the Morning

ASK THE MORNING, 1, 2, and 3 
Paintings by Kevin Macneil Brown watercolor on paper, Summer 2013.

The idea behind the ASK THE MORNING series is simple: Drink some coffee, do some morning reading and contemplation. Gather paint, paper, water, brushes. Go outside and begin painting, going along with whatever wants to arrive.- KMB

Eastern Sky, 5:45 AM, 7/21/13

   Eastern Sky, 5:45 AM, 7/21/13.

     Painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor on paper

This morning's dawn sky was worth the early coffee. No camera, so I had to paint it!

-KMB

the harbor at dawn (new music)

In the past few days I have been putting finishing touches on a new long-form soundwork composition entitled the harbor at dawn.
This, the first section, was made with steel guitar, Lexicon Jam Man (for long delay/repeats/layering), and lap top. I was thinking of the steel guitar as a string ensemble, and I sought to find and share the quiet energies of a shoreline dawn.
The complete work will be released in August. Thanks for listening!

-KMB

Hawk on a Hill

 From all the way across the river, in the hazy green/gold  light of a June evening, a stirring sight and sound: High, high on the ridge above Hill Street, from a bare tree above lush green woods, lone sharp-shinned hawk calling, a  slow keer-keer-keer.

 That sound, I think, should not be heard so clearly across such distance; but the elevation/altitude seems to have set it loose to ring and echo.

 Now, a week later, I find that there is something in this event that has stayed with me, surfacing in my deepest meditations, my contemplations of all that is possible.

     -Journal entry and watercolor sketch by kmb, June 2013.

rust/rose/violet- music and watercolor sketch

                    A soundscape/color-field piece for  steel guitar, looping device, and laptop. As with last summer's VIRIDIAN WAVES, the idea was to create a meditation on color/light rendered in sound.The accompanying watercolor sketch was made while I listened to the final mix. -KMB


                           

Eastern Sky, 5:40 AM, 5/19/13 (watercolor painting.)

                                                   Eastern Sky, 5:40  AM, 5/19/13 
                                  painting by Kevin Macneil Brown, watercolor on paper.

 Tired from a week busy with music and more, I almost slept in this Sunday morning. But birdsong and a glimpse of the sky pulled me out of bed to paint.  Even before the coffee was ready I was outside in the cool morning, paint, brushes, water, and paper ready. I worked very quickly, mixing from a three-color palette-- paint was flying everywhere. When I was finished, the coffee was ready.
                                                                                            -KMB

from LIGHTFALL: POEMS

Bluets below

Broadwings above

The journey flowing

southeast with wind in spruce

and coltsfoot open

mud-flecked gold

my prayer flag.

-Kevin Macneil Brown

from LIGHTFALL: POEMS:

http://www.amazon.com/Lightfall-poems-Kevin-Macneil-Brown/dp/1483981436/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366542286&sr=8-1&keywords=LIGHTFALL+POEMS