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Jacki Kellumさんのイラストまとめ


Painter & Picture Book Author - jackikellum.com - The Donkey's Song - @randomhousekids Jacki Kellum is seeking an agent for fiction & nonfiction books
jackikellum.com

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My cotton town is all shadows now. Life itself is boarded shut-- stone-stagnant, cold-condemned, and gasping, but my cotton clock still ticks my cotton song.
Out on the pavement, holding a tin cup, I’m crying: “I am still a cotton-child, a child that lost my home.”

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One day, my dad trained a crow to talk and named him Sam. Unfortunately, my dad didn’t teach Sam when to quit talking. Sam was a curious creature and picked up everything--including bad words
Watercolor Painting

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Jacki Kellum is a painter & writer who writes & illustrates picture books for children but in light of the time-crunched, 21st century, she also wishes to submit manuscript-art-verse projects to create a type of picture book for adults.

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Mrs. Cow is very thrilled!
A box is in her mail.
It's from the place she ordered
Lots of socks that were on sale!

Watercolor Illustration

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The Sun needs to rise, but the Rooster's in bed.
The Cow must be milked.
The Chicks must be fed.
Will the burned-out Rooster wake up?
$DVart

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When I develop a character for a picture book, I begin with a realistic pencil drawing, and I gradually simplify that drawing and make it more child-friendly & fun.
Watercolor Illustration from Pencil

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Are you saying that we should begin tweeting these things tonight, on the eve of or should we wait until tomorrow. What time tomorrow?

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One day, my dad trained a crow to talk and named him Sam. Unfortunately, mydad didn’t teach Sam when to quit talking. Sam learned to repeat everything he heard. His most famous words were “Stop It! Sam!”

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In My Garden, Pinks
by Jacki Kellum

As winter’s darkness sinks,
And sunshine yawns and winks,
My back yard drinks and blinks,
And in my garden, pinks.

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Catching lightning bugs beneath haloed street lamps, most of my childhood was spun with shimmering shards of light. Much of my childhood seemed like a Fourth-of-July picnic, and fragments of cold and juicy red watermelon-stars streamed across my sky—or did I simply wish?

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