I’m A.D. Scott — author, illustrator, creator.

It’s taken me a while to be able to say that out loud.

For a long time, I couldn’t quite claim those words. Maybe I was trying to be bigger than what I thought they meant. Or maybe I didn’t believe I could live up to the people I saw wearing them so easily. But once I began searching for, understanding, and sharing my voice, those words started to make sense. They weren’t who I thought I should be. They were simply who I am.

I’m an ’80s baby—’83 to be exact. A husband, a father, a son, a brother. A proud Canadian of Jamaican heritage. A loner who loves people. Six-foot-four, and somehow still down to earth. In a word, a contradiction.

Some people say I don’t look like the kind of person who creates picture books. But what you look like matters far less than what you look for—and how you see.

I’ve always seen in pictures and felt in words. But I don’t do either often enough—only when something needs figuring out or explaining. I should practice more. I write to understand—to give shape to the ideas crashing in my head and to connect with others through what I make, which is maybe what makes my work unexpected.

I’m a guy trying to figure things out—and sometimes I do. Then I package it up and share it, hoping it makes sense beyond myself.

I crave the clarity that allows something worth saying to grow from me—to leave me. I want the courage to let that something start a new life with you. To risk having my ideas lost in translation. To leave clues, to surprise, to connect—to boldly say something we might already know, in a way we’ve never heard or seen.

Maybe I was right to avoid calling myself author, illustrator, creator. Because everything I’ve described, everything I believe is possible, really makes me one thing—a dreamer.