But I’ve been nervous about opening up to you. Maybe I’m just a coward. Time will tell. I feel like I’ve got a lot to say. Been a long time quiet. Truth be told, I’m more comfortable with all this in person, one to one. A pub, a pint, some music...
I remember a conference. A squatted dole house: Brixton, London. The year 1991. The space, a large empty industrial shell. I was better acquainted with the room decked out in drapes, lit by flashing strobes and DJs playing all night sets to enthusiastic dancers. But now, it was daytime and small groups of people huddled around the walls, talking about subjects that seemed to me like fairy tales. The conference was called Alternative Societies in the 21st Century. I listened to speakers discussing a variety of subjects from the imminent explosion of the internet to creative collectives, and new financial communities. One particular guy from Nigeria - exotically turned out in red jeans, a thigh-length white cotton blouse and a colourful kufi on his head - was talking about money. New money. New systems of barter and value.
Something happened to me that day. Utopian dreams became a reality.
Now, 27 years later I come across Steemit and I’m reminded of that dream.
My friend, 
I’m a single parent, a writer, a film maker, a musician. My online presence is sorely lacking and I come to Steemit after recently sending out my first novel to a couple of agents who both agreed I needed to blog, presumably to do the publisher’s PR job for them, in these tiresome days of austerity.
I want this to be a two-way relationship. I intend to blog on things that I have a natural curiosity towards. Stories. The world is built on stories. Fiction and non-fiction. The trials and tribulations of what it is to be a single dad in austerity torn England. And along the way I’ll listen to your stories if you’ll let me.
