Francis Winifred is not real. She exists in my mind. I’m not having a transgender moment. Francis is the writer I had to be to hide the writer I am. I didn’t believe people would believe Grant Fenton the serious writer, the poet, the songwriter. It is as though HE didn’t have the right to write.
It is like when I think of something intelligent to say. I often try to give the things I say that sound wise credibility by saying “my father used to say….” when really it was me who thought it and said it. When performing songs I’ve written I’ll introduce it by saying “this song is written by a friend of mine”. Frightened of failure? Probably. Embarrassed by being sensitive? Of course.
So, after a year of being Francis Winifred, I decided it’s time to be me. Francis does not exist. Here is the writing of Francis Winifred.