I’m Brianna, although that isn’t the name you’ll find on my passport.
For most of my life, there have effectively been two versions of me. There’s the person the outside world sees, and there’s Brianna, the woman who has existed quietly alongside him for as long as I can remember. This website is where those two lives are allowed to meet.
I’m not a professional writer, psychologist or gender expert. I’m simply someone with nearly fifty years of memories, questions, mistakes, discoveries and experiences to draw from. Some have been painful, some ridiculous, some surprisingly ordinary, and some have taken me decades to understand.
REAL LIFE, FICTION & EVERYTHING BETWEEN
Writing from both sides of the mirror.
Real Life is where I write about that journey honestly: gender, identity, dysphoria, relationships and what it means to finally begin understanding yourself after spending much of your life trying not to.
Fantasy & Fiction is where the rules disappear completely. Transformation, fantasy, strange worlds and impossible situations have always given me another way of exploring identity. Sometimes fiction can say things that autobiography can’t.
Journal is the bit in between. It’s where I can write about whatever is occupying my mind at the time without needing enough material to turn it into an entire book.
I live in rural France with my wife, surrounded by countryside, animals, old machinery, cameras and far too many unfinished projects. Away from writing, I’m usually making films, repairing something that probably shouldn’t have broken in the first place, taking photographs, or disappearing down another creative rabbit hole.
I also happen to use a wheelchair. It’s an important part of my life, but it isn’t the most interesting thing about me, so you won’t find this website built around it.
This site isn’t intended to tell anyone how they should live, transition, identify or label themselves. It is simply my story, my fiction and my little corner of the internet.
If something here makes somebody laugh, think, recognise a piece of themselves, or simply disappear into one of my stories for an evening, then it has done its job.
