Console
- D. M. Wright

- Jul 25, 2025
- 12 min read
Updated: Apr 20
Beth Mac: Part One Beth Mac: Part Two Console Dating Men: Series One Dating Men: Series Two Dating Men: Series Three Nights on Hindley Sherlock Homes: The Boscombe Billabong Mystery The First Great Emu War of 1932 The Second Great Emu War of 1932 The Magpie The Problem with Ralph: Chugging Ulysses' Odyssey: Cyclops Uncle Ian Warlocks of Lōbethal: Class Clown Warlocks of Lōbethal: Older Writer, Father, Killer | TAGLINE A single day, an unending war, and the courage to keep playing. LOGLINE On a single Australia Day in Adelaide, a traumatised veteran preparing for a simple gaming party is pulled through a city of ghosts, old lovers, broken soldiers and unravelling minds — forcing him to confront the war he never stopped fighting before it pulls apart the people he still loves. THE OPENING >> BUY >> GENRE Primary: Literary psychological drama Secondary: Contemporary Australian fiction, war / veteran fiction, magical realism, domestic drama, mental-health-centred realism, Mrs. Dalloway-style modernist homage, ensemble character tapestry 'Console' is a modern Australian 'Mrs Dalloway' told through the fractured interiority of veterans, families and the ghosts who follow them. It's a single-day journey where memory, trauma and connection collide across Adelaide. SETTING 'Console' is set across Adelaide on a hot Australia Day. The story moves through homes, streets, parks and inner worlds as its characters navigate the pressures of memory, identity and the lives they’ve built post-war. BLURB Every time David Galloway touches a doorknob, it explodes: a grenade that shatters into a million pieces and transports him back to Puckapunyal. He’s stuck standing at the cold face of war. But the reality is, he’s no longer there anymore. Far from the battlefield and so many years on, past trauma, relationship ‘what ifs’, and the ghost of an unwelcome singing soldier follow his every step as he tries to navigate life after battle. Now, a strained marriage and the trials and tribulations of fatherhood have left him directionless in his search for identity, unable to let go of what once was. It’s not just David who is struggling to distinguish his military past from the present. Old flames and brothers-in-arms are on a painfully similar journey. They carry the nostalgia heavily on their shoulders; painful, yet at times, with comforting familiarity. Console tells a story through the eyes of all who once fought alongside him so valiantly. Personal struggles and relationships unfold like a game of skill, strategy and mental survival. In a world where past wounds feel like checkpoints and real-life dilemmas play out like side quests, 'Console' challenges the boundaries between lived experience and play — forcing David to grapple with the greatest game of all: the fight to reclaim himself. REVIEWS ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ As Much Art As A Good Read 'Console' by D.M. Wright is skilfully written and produced. I appreciate the short chapters. They let me read at a good pace and keep track of a complex story centred on well-developed characters. The addition of song lyrics is a plus. At the end of the story, Wright reveals the book is a novella poem. I like the creativity of the style and construction of this tale. This is a love story and sentimental. The writing is engaging and easy to digest. If you’re looking for a good, quick read that you can put down and pick back up, reading in doses, perhaps while sipping beers on a beach, 'Console' is worth your time and dimes. CONTENT WARNING This book is Not Recommended for readers under the age of 15. It contains:
This book includes suicide and suicidal ideation, which some people may find disturbing. If you or someone you know is suicidal, please, contact your GP, go to your local hospital, or call the suicide prevention hotline in your country. Australia: Lifeline Ph. 13 11 14 Beyond Blue Ph. 1300 22 4636 Kids’ Helpline Ph. 1800 55 1800 (Kids to 25 years old) Open Arms Ph. 1800 011 46 (Veterans and their families) CHAPTERS Khe Sanh by Cold Chisel 1. Wings of an eagle by Russell Morris 2. Somebody that I used to know by Gotye 3. Living next door to Alice by New World 4. Are you gonna be my girl by Jet 5. I am the real thing by Russell Morris 6. On and on and on it goes by Russell Morris 7. I was only nineteen by Redgum 8. Throw your arms around me by Hunters & Collectors Intermission 9. Dirty deeds by AC/DC 10. Run to me by The Bee Gees 11. You got nothing I want by Cold Chisel 12. Freedom by Noiseworks 13. Never tear us apart by INXS 14. Shelter for my soul by Bernard Fanning 15. Sadie, the cleaning lady by John Farnham 16. Don’t dream, it’s over by Crowded House 17. Please don’t ask me by John Farnham AUTHOR'S NOTE 'Console' began as a question: What would happen if 'Mrs Dalloway' were rewritten for the Australia we actually live in: an Australia shaped by veterans, fractured families, memories of wars we barely speak about, and a culture where men are expected to cope in silence? Virginia Woolf’s novel has always fascinated me for its ability to compress a lifetime of interiority into a single day, and I wanted to see what could happen when that structure was transplanted into a modern Australian city, with modern Australian wounds. Adelaide, with its quiet streets and hidden emotional weather, felt like the right place for that experiment. Changing Clarissa Dalloway into David Galloway wasn’t just a gender swap; it was a thematic shift. I wanted to explore what Woolf didn’t: the interior life of a middle‑aged Australian man who has been taught his whole life not to have one. Men like David are everywhere: men who have served, men who have broken, men who have survived, men who have never been given the language to explain what survival cost them. In 'Mrs Dalloway', only Septimus carries the burden of trauma; in 'Console', almost everyone does. But their trauma is not uniform. It refracts differently through veterans, spouses, children, caretakers, and immigrants. I wanted to show that PTSD is not a single wound but a constellation of them: some loud, some quiet, some visible, some invisible even to the person suffering. The Australian songs became the emotional scaffolding of the book. These tracks are part of our cultural bloodstream: they’re the songs you hear at pubs, at barbeques, on long drives, at funerals, in RSL halls, in the background of memories you didn’t realise were memories. They carry nostalgia, grief, humour and national myth-making all at once. Weaving them into the story wasn’t just a gimmick, or making a musical for musical's sake; it was a way of letting music do what dialogue often can’t. A single lyric can unlock a character’s entire emotional history. A guitar riff can summon a ghost more effectively than any apparition. The gaming and LitRPG motifs grew from the same place. I’ve always been struck by how men communicate when they’re doing something: gaming, sport, working on a project, driving somewhere, sitting side‑by‑side rather than face‑to‑face. Our mental‑health systems are built around a model of healing which privileges talking, introspection and emotional articulation — a model that works beautifully for many women, but often fails men entirely. Men open up when their hands are busy, when the stakes are low, when the conversation is allowed to drift in sideways. A gaming party, with its banter, competition and shared focus, becomes a kind of accidental group therapy. The LitRPG language — quests, respawns, XP, boss fights — mirrors the way many men actually conceptualise their lives: as levels to get through, challenges to beat, damage to absorb, and ghosts that keep respawning no matter how many times you clear the map. In the end, 'Console' is a story about the ways we try to heal when the world gives us no blueprint for it. It’s about men who don’t know how to talk, women who are tired of carrying everything, families stretched thin by silence, and the strange, unexpected places where connection still manages to break through. It’s a book about ghosts: the ones we see, the ones we imagine, and the ones we become to ourselves. If 'Mrs Dalloway' asked what it means to be alive for a single day, 'Console' asks what it means to survive one. THEMES 1. The lingering cost of war The novel explores how trauma doesn’t end when the conflict does: it mutates, resurfaces and reshapes the lives of veterans and the people who love them. 2. PTSD as a living presence Memory, hallucination and ghostly intrusions show how the past becomes an active force in the present, blurring the line between reality and the mind’s battlefield. 3. Masculinity, identity and emotional suppression The book interrogates how men are taught to cope — or not cope — with fear, grief, vulnerability and failure, and how those pressures fracture families. 4. The fragility of relationships under pressure Marriages, friendships and parent–child bonds strain under unspoken wounds, unmet needs, and the weight of what each character cannot say aloud. 5. The ache of 'the life not lived' David’s memories of Alice, Sam and his younger self reveal a deep longing for alternate paths, lost possibilities, and the versions of himself he abandoned. 6. The invisibility of caretakers Rachel and Liang embody the emotional toll borne by those who support traumatised partners: the exhaustion, resentment and quiet heartbreak of loving someone who is not fully present. 7. Isolation in the midst of community Characters move through the same city, the same day, yet remain profoundly alone, each trapped in their own interior world despite physical proximity. 8. The city as a psychological landscape Adelaide becomes a map of memory, regret and connection: a place where past and present collide in streets, parks and domestic spaces. 9. Ghosts as truth‑tellers Private Garry Evans represents the parts of David he cannot face: guilt, fear, desire and the unresolved moral debris of war. 10. The search for connection in a single, ordinary day Like 'Mrs Dalloway', the novel shows how one day can hold a lifetime’s worth of reckoning, and how small moments of recognition or kindness can keep someone alive. Overall, 'Console' explores how men carry trauma long after wars end, moving through life like a game with no save points, where memories respawn, ghosts follow, and every choice echoes. The novel uses Australian songs and LitRPG motifs as emotional architecture: the soundtrack and mechanics through which men make sense of their inner battles, because they rarely heal through stillness or confession, but through doing, moving, joking, competing, and gathering in groups where vulnerability can hide inside action. At its heart, the book reflects that traditional, talk‑based, individual therapy often fails to reach men. However, connection through shared activity — gaming, sport, banter, music, mateship — becomes its own form of healing, offering a path back to themselves via each other. TONE & VIBE 'Console' moves with a raw, intimate emotional charge, blending dark humour with the quiet ache of people barely holding themselves together. Its atmosphere is haunted yet grounded, where everyday Australian life is constantly interrupted by memory, music, and ghosts. The overall vibe is tender, volatile and deeply human — a single day where everyone is fighting private battles no one else can see. POV Close third-person rotating Past tense 'Console' uses a close third‑person rotating point of view, slipping in and out of different characters’ interior worlds while maintaining a tight, intimate focus on each mind as the day unfolds. This shifting perspective allows the reader to experience the same city, the same moments, and even the same memories from radically different emotional angles. The effect is a layered, Woolf‑inflected tapestry where private battles, ghostly intrusions and everyday interactions overlap to reveal the hidden lives of everyone moving through the day. MAIN CHARACTER SNAPSHOTS DAVID GALLOWAY — 40, veteran, husband, father A man suspended between who he was in the army and who he’s supposed to be now, David moves through the day haunted by the ghost of Private Garry Evans and the life he might have lived. He masks trauma with humour, distraction and nostalgia, clinging to the illusion of control as his marriage frays and his sense of self dissolves. His journey is a quiet battle for dignity, connection and the courage to face the memories which keep detonating beneath him. RACHEL GALLOWAY — 40, wife, mother, survivor in her own right Rachel is a woman who has spent years carrying the emotional load David refuses to acknowledge, and the weight has reshaped her into someone he barely recognises. She seeks validation, escape and a version of herself which isn’t defined by caretaking or compromise. Her absence throughout the day is its own story: a silent rebellion against a life that no longer fits. LACHLAN GALLOWAY — 18, son, drifting, defensive Lachlan is a teenager caught between apathy and yearning, numbing himself with screens, noise and the comfort of avoidance. His relationship with his father is a tangle of resentment, misunderstanding and unspoken fear. He wants to be seen, but only on his own terms, and his defensiveness hides a boy terrified of inheriting the worst parts of the men around him. DYLAN KEENE — 19, Lachlan’s boyfriend, activist, provocateur Dylan is sharp, wounded and always ready for a fight — especially when it gives him power over people he believes have wronged him. He weaponises identity and victimhood as armour, but beneath the bravado is a young man desperate to matter. His presence forces David to confront his own biases, insecurities and failures as a father. PRIVATE GARRY EVANS — dead soldier, ghost, conscience, tormentor Garry is the embodiment of David’s unresolved trauma: part memory, part hallucination, part moral witness. He appears with a guitar, a lyric or a jab at exactly the moment David least wants him, dragging the past into the present with relentless clarity. He is both the wound and the warning. SABINA WONG — 28, veteran, fragile, fierce Sabina is a soldier who never truly came home, living in a body which reacts to danger long after the danger is gone. Her panic attacks, dissociation and emotional withdrawal are not weaknesses but the scars of survival. She is a portrait of PTSD without sentimentality: a woman fighting to stay tethered to the world. LIANG WONG — 30s, husband, immigrant, caretaker Liang is a gentle man pushed to the edge by love, loyalty and exhaustion. He uprooted his life for Sabina, only to find himself invisible beside her trauma. His quiet heartbreak reveals the cost borne by those who love the wounded. HAYLEY WHITEHOUSE — 40s, veteran, blunt, unfiltered Hayley is the kind of soldier who survived by becoming harder than the world around her. She masks loneliness with bravado and humour, and her presence forces David to confront the versions of himself he abandoned. She is both a reminder of the past and a mirror he doesn’t want to look into. ALICE WALSH — 40, former flame, the road not taken Alice represents the life David might have lived: chaotic, passionate, impossible. Her absence is a presence in the book, a ghost of a different kind, reminding David of choices made and chances lost. She is the ache of “what if.” DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 1. Themes & Big Ideas
2. LitRPG, Gaming & Masculinity
3. Australian Identity & Music
4. Character‑Focused Questions
5. Mental Health & Society
6. Structure, Style & Literary Craft
7. Ethical & Social Questions
8. Creative / Extension Questions
ISBN 9798255658473 RELEASE YEAR 2025 SERIES INFO Console Book 1 WORD COUNT 25,000 AVAILABLE FORMATS Original edition: Paperback, Kindle Spellbound edition: Kindle Workbench edition: Kindle THE OPENING >> BUY >> | |
















































































































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