Calling all artists! Well, okay, not really. For this project, we’re looking for up-and-coming artists, people (of any age or background) who haven’t had their work published or exhibited before (or, at least, not much). We’re hoping to showcase the talent of one new artist . . . and to develop a stable of great illustrators!
Our next children’s book project, by James Brian Kerr (author of The Long Walk Home: How I Lost My Job as a Corporate Remora Fish and Rediscovered My Life’s Purpose), is called Elysium! Elysium! It’s a short chapter book about a group of animals facing some unusual challenges.
For this project, we’re looking for a traditional, warm style of art (see the sample images below). An excerpt from the text is also included below, so you can get a feel for the story.
If you think you might be the right illustrator for this project, please reach out to Editor in Chief Tara Tomczyk at tara@blydynsquarebooks.com. Please do NOT message us through social media or comment on our posts regarding your qualifications or recommending artists. We want to deal privately with potential illustrators. We’d love to see samples of your work and/or your interpretation of an illustration that would work for our story.
We’re excited to see your work and to develop relationships with some new and upcoming artists! Below, we’ve included a couple of sample illustrations that have the kind of “feel” we’re looking for. And below those is an excerpt from the book, for your consideration. Any questions? Feel free to reach out.
Again, please note that this opportunity is NOT for professional illustrators who have already established themselves in the industry. We’re offering this particular project only to illustrators who don’t have extensive experience or previous publication credits.
Sample Illustrations:
Text Excerpt:
Dawn was breaking over the forest when Augie the gray squirrel put out the call.
“Big Oak is down! He fell during the storm!”
From across the woods, the creatures raced to see. In the cool, dripping morning, they took in the sight of the once-mighty oak fallen across the walking path that ran along the edge of the forest. The tree was so big, it extended onto the lawn of the cottage where the professor and his wife lived. There were branches everywhere. One of Big Oak’s splintered limbs was driven like a spear into the ground next to the walking path.
“What happened?” asked Reds the fox.
“It was the wind last night,” said Augie’s mother. “You all heard it. . . .”
Nods all around.
“It was fearsome,” said the doe, who was pregnant again. Every spring without fail, she had a set of twins. Her brood was so big now, she had a hard time keeping track of them all. “All those God bolts, one after the other.”
“Was Big Oak hit?” the bluejay asked.
Reds ran back and forth along the length of Big Oak’s massive trunk. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“He was old,” said the screech owl. “He had the rot in his roots. With all the rain of late, it was bound to happen.”
“What’s the rot?” Augie asked.
“It’s when a tree goes bad from the inside,” his mother replied. “Then the ants get in. It happens when trees get old.”
“Squirrels can get the rot too,” Reds said with a devilish grin. “Because they spend so much time in trees.”
“I could get ants?” Augie asked, alarm rising in his voice.
“No, you’re not going to get ants,” his mother said. “Only trees get ants.”
“What about the rot? Could I get the rot?”
His mother sighed. Her young son was so impressionable.
“You’re not going to get the rot either,” she said. She turned to the fox and gave him the evil eye. “Stop teasing him, Reds. You’ll give him nightmares.”
Screech Owl was looking off toward the cottage where the professor lived. The cottage was small and white with a bay window that looked out to the bird feeders in the backyard.
“The rot happens to all creatures, great and small,” the owl said. “People too. The professor’s daughter had it.”
“Yes, that was sad,” Brood Doe said. “She was so young.”
“Did the professor’s wife have the rot too?” Augie asked.
“No,” the doe replied. “They say she died of a broken heart.”
The young squirrel’s face screwed up in puzzlement. “How can you break your heart when it’s inside you?”
“It’s a different kind of break, dear,” his mother said.
