Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast

This image here is a development sketch that author/illustrator Scott Magoon sent out with a manuscript called The Boy Who Cried Bigfoot!, back when he was looking for a publisher for it. I love it.

The book was picked up, indeed, by Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books and published just last week.

In this entertaining story, an unidentified (at least for a while, that is) narrator introduces us to Ben, a “tenacious little fellow,” who likes to tell elaborate stories. His favorite tall tale, it seems, is about Bigfoot. Ben’s seen him, you see; at least that’s what he tells folks. But we readers are privy to his little secrets. For one, he uses props. (Ben is particularly adept at simulating very sasquatch-esque footsteps, as you can probably guess by spotting his giant, hand-constructed prop up above in that development sketch, as well as the title page illustration, below-left.)

The townsfolk, who appear to live in times past (“I just love going back in time a bit is all,” Scott told me, “especially old bikes and cameras”), are intrigued for a while, but they eventually give up on determined Ben, not believing his cries of wolf, so to speak. It was fun while it lasted, though. Ben clearly enjoys putting on a show.

Ben is defeated when, suddenly, he hears a “crick” in the woods. And I don’t think I’ll be too spoilertastic here (I mean, check out the book’s cover after all) when I say that our narrator is revealed to be Bigfoot himself. “I don’t ever remember crossing paths with you, Littlefoot,” he says, stepping out from behind some trees to Ben’s great surprise.

The histrionics (on the part of Ben) that follow are pretty funny—with one Charlie Brown-esque yell I particularly love—and Bigfoot is ultimately an endearing, if not ginormous, creature. (Really, he’s a softie. He’s having cyber-coffee with me and Scott today and hasn’t yet knocked over any mugs.) And, well now. I can’t give away the entire story, so I’ll stop there. In the end, “Ben has learned his lesson,” notes the Kirkus review, “although how he determines to tell the truth in the future is bound to leave readers giggling.” (Look closely in one of the final spreads for a Pinocchio reference, speaking of truth-telling.) And it’s there where I’ll stop so that I don’t ruin the entire read for you.

However, Scott (art director by day, author/illustrator by night!) is here this morning to share early character studies and sketches and even some final art, as well as talk a bit about the creation of the book. Let’s get to it! I love it when Magoon visits. I’m going to turn it over to him now.

“During the course of illustrating the interiors, I had held on to this idea of a retro design for the jacket. It’s a classic story; why not capture some of that on the cover?

Well, turns out with the boxes everywhere, it didn’t reflect the interiors at all. It had a hidden Bigfoot character, too, and so stepped headlong into the old debate: Do we keep plot points or character details off the cover—or do we give more away in the hopes that it will make the book more appealing on the shelf? We chose the latter and it works great.

With the big wraparound woodsy scene and both characters trying to communicate directly with the viewer, it’s a punchy, fun, and dynamic cover that expands on the action of the interior.

Dog had to be expressive throughout, as he’s the moral scoreboard of the story, Ben’s conscience.

Bigfoot: Huge, lovable—the New York Times Book Review said [in this round-up just last week], though, that “presenting an adorable Bigfoot smacks of overkill, like deep-fried Snickers bars.” [There is] some truth to that in that he is a bit over the top.

Ben: A good kid at heart, but a bit lost. He had to be very appealing—we want to root for Ben—but capable of some mischief.

In my first book, [Kara LaReau’s] Ugly Fish, the action’s contained to a fish tank to imply the small world over which the bullies held sway. In comparison, The Boy Who Cried Bigfoot! is similar in that it’s got a beast reportedly stalking a particular, small area, much like a stage. And so, except for just a few pages, I kept the background scenery the same—as though the reader was watching a play. The sky changes to reflect the time of day and casts back to us Ben’s inner mood throughout the story — pink and innocent dawn at the beginning; a light blue, partly cloudy morning turns green as he begins to lie; a fiery orange towards the end of the day when he’s angry and so on. I hope it’s a detail the reader could discover with subsequent readings.“

Many thanks to Scott for visiting. There’s a lot more here at his blog about what inspired him to write this story, as well as his own experience with what he calls “everyone’s favorite cryptozoological hominid” and what it has to do with Night Driver for the Atari 2600.

It’s a great read, so when you put your Bigfoot binoculars down, consider heading over there.

THE BOY WHO CRIED BIGFOOT! Copyright © 2013 by Scott Magoon. Published by Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books, New York. All images here used with permission of Scott Magoon.