#374 Inside the Emotion of Fiction THE NIGHT ON THE DARLING RIVER by Darry Fraser, published by Harper Collins Publishers Australia on December 1, 2025
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What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction?
I started to write The Night on the Darling River in November 2022 (LEFT) and finished the final draft in September 2023 (RIGHT). After that, I let it sit for a few months then polished it before meeting the submission deadline for my publisher.
Where did you do most of your writing for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. And can you please include a photo?
I have a dedicated space in my house for writing. My little cottage has 2 bedrooms, a lounge, 1.5 bath, etc and a ‘family room’. This family room is my workspace, not far from my kitchen: a nice lookout over an enclosed deck. I have my desk, filing cabinet, reference book shelf (an old school yard bench), my computer and two monitors – one for the manuscript and all things internet and the other for research pages I might have open for easy referral. It’s functional, not pretty, and I love it.
What were your writing habits while writing this work- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day?
By about 9am, I am at the desk, manuscript open, and after trawling the socials a while, I’m in the zone. I have coffee (black), write in silence directly onto the pc, and let it roll from there. I usually break for lunch, then around 4pm I’ve had enough of working the imagination. My faithful hound, the wonder-dog Hamish, a black Australian Kelpie x Border Collie keeps me company and reminds me when it’s time to take a break – for both of us.
Please include just one excerpt and include page numbers as reference. This one excerpt can be as short or as long as you prefer.
This is from Chapter One, pages 1 & 2
© Darry Fraser
Echuca, Victoria, August 1894
Still no moonlight. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to leave. Now.
Hushed and foreboding, the dead of night could have been full of doom. This particular night, however, it was her friend, even if she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. There’d be no better time than right now to leave him. Alby had said he was going downriver tonight. He would be gone for many weeks, perhaps months—if he stayed away. Tess knew her husband was unpredictable.
Alby intended to be on the paddle-steamer, Rodney. The PS Victor, heading in the opposite direction, upriver, would sail tonight too. She had to be on it.
She couldn’t stay a moment longer. God forbid if, for some reason, he returned before she had left, he might very well carry out another of his threats. The broken bone above her wrist, now healed, twinged sometimes, a reminder. She couldn’t risk it.
Leave.
Run.
Her nerves jangled.
How did it get to this? How, indeed. She should have run before she was made to marry Alby. Or after her parents had died. Or when CeeCee Seymour first reached out to her, offering sanctuary.
It hadn’t always been like this. She’d rubbed along beside Alby for years, desolate in the marriage, but resigned, until his growing bad moods had woken her. Oh, she knew she had her prickly moments, but only that—prickly. She’d been a normal person—laughing, happy and confident—who, like everyone else, could feel a spike of temper at times. But she had stopped being allowed to express herself in any way, and over the years she’d learned to dampen that spike to keep the mood agreeable between them. Soon there wasn’t much left of who she’d been at all.
But now, she just couldn’t hide herself anymore; couldn’t hide her dislike of Alby anymore.
Still she hesitated at the door. Why? Freedom was just out there.
Last year, walking away from the doctor’s rooms, her arm properly plastered and bandaged, Tess felt a note slip into her hand when CeeCee Seymour’s niece, the auburn-haired Miss Linley Seymour, had passed by. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to have caught you. Do come to tea, Mrs Slattery,’ she’d said loudly and cheerfully for the benefit of any onlookers. Then she’d whispered, ‘Come to this address with your bag packed. Sooner the better. He will never find you, never hurt you again.’ She had smiled pleasantly then crossed the road.
Tess realised then she couldn’t hide it any longer. People knew.
Why did I wait so long to leave?
For years she’d thought she could live with Alby, put up with a life without love. She thought she should live with it like so many others did. Live through it.
So she’d stayed.
She clasped her hands on her elbows, rocked a little, stared into the night.
And then there was her pride. Pride goeth before a fall and she’d made her bed —only some of the clichéd, irritating things her now dear-departed mother had sniped. They echoed around her still.
Tess’s first love, Harry Goodwin, had left town in a hurry, left her distraught, weeping and wailing at the loss. At that time, in all her fifteen years, she had thought of no one else, and when she’d heard that he’d talked of engagement to her she was so, so happy. She waited breathlessly for the formal proposal. Everyone waited for the formal proposal.
And then Harry took off.
The town was agog. Tess was crippled by embarrassment.
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Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? And can you please include a photo of your marked up rough drafts of this excerpt.
Not so much deletions as refinements, tightening the prose, shortening the sentences to get that little bit of breathlessness and confusion. I’m afraid I write over, rather than keep my marked up drafts, but here’s a sample from my publisher’s editor on the final draft submitted (it’s blurry I know, but it gives you an idea – most every page has something like this on it):
Why is this excerpt so emotional for you as a writer to write? And can you describe your own emotional experience of writing this specific excerpt?
For my stories, the Big Decisive Moment is always in the first few pages, if not on the very first page. Here, Tess has finally become brave enough to take the plunge and run from a bad domestic situation hoping to disappear and never be found. In her shoes, I would’ve felt frightened but compelled, panicky but determined, hopeless but hopeful. I hope I caught that for the reader. By the end of the chapter, Tess has achieved what she set out to do – except for the escape route she’d planned. And therein lies the rub!
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