Multi-media Taylor a kid at heart

Somebody once asked me, after I told them many Native reserves look like a lot of small non-Native towns except people were a lot darker, how they could then tell if they were in a First Nations community?
All the standard jokes went through my head; when you hit your first three legged dogs, notice all the vast dreamcatcher factories, when you spot more cigarette shops than convenience stores, and there are the much older versions; abandoned cars on lawns or passed out Indians used as speed bumps. I thought for a moment before answering: when you see a lot of kids, that's usually when you're on Native territory.
First Nations people love kids, and love having kids, which can be a good combination. It's no secret that the birth rate amongst Canada's Indigenous people is practically the highest in the land, and its been that way for a while. I know, my mother is the oldest of fourteen, so as a result, I have about 25 first cousins, at least.
It's part of that old ancient Aboriginal custom that says when you know how to do something well, keep doing it. I guess building canoes and skinning muskrats gets boring after a while.
From down in the States, we've all met those people that were "part Cherokee", or had a great-great-great-great grandmother that was a Cherokee princess. I've always wondered if it was just this one lone and tired Cherokee woman that just kept pumping out these kids, and all the other Cherokee women pretty much kept to themselves.
My point here being that with all these Native kids running around the country, and kids from all the other cultures that currently inhabit these four directions, I have found myself-through no fault of my own ­ becoming one of the leading writers of Native theatre for young audiences.
This year alone, I will be having three plays written specifically for kids, touring various parts of the country. They might now or will be at a school near you. My very first play, Toronto At Dreamer's Rock, written in the late 80's, started me driving that metaphorical school bus. And last year, a novel I wrote was published, The Night Wanderer, and it was written specifically for teenagers. Vampires and Indians. I've been told teenagers can't get enough of either.
Be assured, I am not complaining. It has been a good and rewarding living. In addition to what I've written, during the last two years I have lectured frequently for several Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal youth, education and librarian organizations across the country, and have several coming up in the coming year, talking specifically about Native youth and literature.
Next month, I am off to Adelaide, Australia to lecture at a huge TYA (theatre for young audiences and not to be confused with T & A) conference being held there, on Native theatre TYA in Canada, and if all works out, hopefully spending time and working with an Aborigine company that does similar work in Perth.
The trouble is, I'm getting kind of old to be working in this field. There are people older then me who write in this field, but they are usually parents of some sort. My worry is that some people may come to believe I could possibly be leaving the territory of being an imaginative writer of youth literature for something slightly more creepy. For you see, I have no kids of my own, (that I know of, though 1993 is kind of murky), yet I seem to have their imagination, which may or may not be a good thing. Hopefully people won't think I'm entering Michael Jackson territory. I say this now because I have a new book coming out this month, and it explores and deconstructs the world of Native sexuality. It's called Me Sexy. Sex and kids, not something you as a parent might be comfortable with.
Now at one time, both ME SEXY, and my vampire novel, The Night Wanderer were supposed to be released in the same month (because they had two different publishers), but as my agent pointed out, that might not be a good idea. What if I was being interviewed for both books at various times and for some reason, forgot which interview I was doing. That could be disastrous.
I keep telling myself I shouldn't be so paranoid, after all, one does lead to the other. In theory, there would be no kids without sex, unless you were a lab technician with a turkey baster.
I remember that Ian Flemming wrote the James Bond novels, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and Roahl Dahl wrote all those cool horror stories, and also James and the Big Peach. But the one thing that makes me believe that maybe I am over-compensating is something my girlfriend told me when I brought this subject up.
She said "Drew, I wouldn't worry about it. Speaking as a woman, most men are big kids anyway. You've just found a way to make it pay." I was relieved for about 10 seconds, then I felt insulted.