John Connolly and the Hollywood Film Adaptation

I discovered a new writer this week: John Connolly. I was watching The New Daughter, a supernatural film starring Kevin Costner as a newly divorced father who moves his daughter and son into a big, plantation style house deep in South Carolina. There’s a mysterious mound in the woods and for some reason this affects the daughter’s behavior and Costner’s character must deal with the sinister changes. The move is ok so far (I haven’t finished watching it, so I don’t know how it ends) but what got my attention was the opening credits where I noticed The New Daughter is based on a short story written by John Connolly. I’m always intrigued (and jealous) when a feature film is based on a novel, or even more impressive, a short story.

So, I decided to check out this guy named John Connolly and I came across his excellent website and blog. He certainly likes to read and he definitely loves to write. He’s a Dubliner, with an impressive number of published novels and short stories under his belt. He talks a lot about the writing life. He even mentions which books and how many he’s reading for the month (way more books than I am – jealous again!). So far, he’s inspired me and forced me to take another long, hard look at my reading and writing habits. I am very guilty of procrastinating and very often distracted by the nuances of everyday life – work, home, TV, movies, Internet – while pursing the writing life. It’s never easy to write, no matter how much I love writing and the idea of writing. But I am improving.

Connolly mentions The New Daughter with an article tucked away under the Curiosities section on his blog. The article (originally published in Something Wicked Magazine) offers his musings and opinions on the film adaptation of his short story and Hollywood adaptations in general. It does take him a while to finally get to the point because he has so much to say, but in the process of reading his article I discovered a pretty damn cool writer. He makes several good arguments about film adaptations and offers a dose of reality for new and emerging writers who may be blinded by dreams of making it big when Hollywood comes knocking (raising my hand here). While he admits that, yes, he is lucky to make a living from his writing and has or will have several film adaptations of his work, he still cautions that making a film is an entirely different ballgame and if you’re not prepared for disappointment then it’s probably wise (should you be so lucky to have a story adapted for the screen) to let Hollywood handle it from there and never look back. Yet, some writers are directly involved in the film adaptation and he mentions examples of that as well. He was also lucky enough to visit the set of The New Daughter and briefly meet Kevin Costner, an experience not many us will ever have.

He also poses an interesting question: Why do so many readers want to see their favorite stories headed for the big screen? I can understand this from the perspective of the reader. I love movies. I always have and always will (I have a degree in film). I also love reading books. This blog is devoted to both passions because I couldn’t decide on just one. Film is a kinetic experience and for a lot of people it’s really cool to see the characters and the story you imagined in your own head on the big screen as you share that experience in a crowded theater. It stirs up a lot of excitement too – for the novel or the film or both. I’m already looking forward to seeing Gone Girl, based on Gillian Flynn’s best seller, when it’s released in theaters this fall. I’ve been meaning to read the novel ever since it was published and the movie adaptation has renewed my interest. And of course, how many women out there do you know that have read and are very anxiously awaiting the film release of Fifty Shades of Grey?

Sometimes Hollywood gets it right, sometimes it doesn’t. And Connolly is certainly right about one thing – film is a very different narrative than a novel. It’s treated and handled differently by a team of people versus just one person who usually has full control and a vision of how a story is shaped. He suspects that short stories might make for better adaptations because there is more room to expand on a short story. It can even be viewed as a “pitch” for the film version, whereas a novel is already established with a beginning, middle and end and requires the surgical trimmings of a screenwriter or director to fit the parameters of the big screen. I’ve read many popular novels and seen the film adaptations that followed. And I’ve enjoyed pretty much all of them. Lately, though, I’ve reversed this process by going to see the film version first and then reading the novel later (I plan to do this with Gone Girl) and usually the novel wins by a long shot. There’s just so much in a novel that cannot be translated to the screen and by reading the novel after I’ve seen the film, I understand and appreciate more deeply what’s happening in the story that gets missed in the translation. This is part of what Connolly is trying to say and I agree with him a hundred percent here. But I still love movies and I still enjoy seeing the movie adaptation. I suppose as the reader or viewer, you’re free to enjoy or hate whatever medium the story is presented. As the writer, and where I sympathize with Connolly, there’s a personal connection to the story and seeing the original vision changed or altered by Hollywood can be affecting on a personal level. So, I do heed his warnings and I take his advice very seriously. Perhaps I’ll even understand it better one day if I’m ever lucky to have the choice of allowing Hollywood to adapt one of my stories for the screen.

For now, though, I plan to finish watching The New Daughter, then I’ll read Connolly’s original short story and check out more works by this cool writer.

After the Operating Table

“I was there during the surgery. I’m still a student, so I didn’t do much. But you can learn a lot from watching. Thank you for letting me watch.”


Combining the art of medicine and writing is nothing new and a form that can be appreciated for what it does – humanizes doctors. Shara Yurkiewicz is not yet a doctor, but as a medical student, she has first hand insight to the inner workings of a hospital operating room. She writes about her medical training as a way to try to understand and find meaning in what she sees and experiences. Her latest article, “Post-Operative Check,” attempts to give answer to a patient who will never know the answer to why. Her article was also recently featured on NPR and has been re-blogged here with her permission.


Post-operative check

by Shara Yurkiewicz


It’s okay that you don’t remember me. My name is Shara, and I’m part of the surgical team. I’m checking to see how you’re doing after your surgery.

Do you know where you are right now?

Actually, you’re in the hospital. You had surgery a few hours ago, for a broken hip. You used to be able to walk before you broke it, so it was important to fix it as soon as it was safe to.

We’re not sure how you broke it either. You said you couldn’t remember falling or even having much pain. Your daughter noticed swelling in your leg a few days ago and brought you here.

She went home for a bit, but she’s been here with you the past few days.

We waited a few days before the surgery to make sure you were medically ready. You had some fluid in your lungs when you first arrived, so we gave you medications to help get rid of it.

It probably wasn’t related to what you ate or drank. You were eating a lot, though. You’re the only person I’ve ever seen with a broken hip with that good of an appetite. Do you remember the last thing you ate before your surgery?

It was a big chocolate chip cookie.


I was there during the surgery. I’m still a student, so I didn’t do much. But you can learn a lot from watching. Thank you for letting me watch.

I was there when they wheeled you into the room. Your surgical cap was too big for you, and it kept falling off. We asked you your name, and you said it. All three names. We didn’t even ask you for the middle one, because we didn’t know you had one.

We then put you to sleep. You took deep breaths through an oxygen mask, before we turned off your consciousness and paralyzed your body. I held your hand as you closed your eyes. The nurse whispered to you that everything would be okay.

We fixed the bone. It took a few hours, because your bone is fragile. There was bleeding, but that’s normal. Bone bleeds a lot. We gave you blood and fluids to replace what you lost.

Did you know that many surgeons play music during operations? It was going so smoothly that we were humming along to “Who Says You Can’t Go Home?” It was during the bridge of the song that your blood pressure suddenly dropped. The anesthesiologist called it out. I looked at the monitor and saw numbers flashing in red.

There was a lot of red, actually. Blood in the wound, blood in the suction container, blood in transfusion bags, bloody footprints on the floor. No more than with any other patient. But I think somewhere along the way I learned to take the sight of liters of blood for granted.

I was scared. I stopped watching them stitch and stared at the monitor, which suddenly seemed like my closest connection to you. They called out the medications they were giving you to raise your blood pressure.

After a few minutes, it worked. Your blood pressure slowly climbed to green numbers. I was still shaking as I silently willed the numbers to stop bouncing around.

But the numbers stubbornly drifted down. Even though they were keeping up with the fluids. Even though you were on medications that force your blood vessels to clamp down and your heart to beat harder.

The red returned and was unrelenting. Your blood pressure was too low, your heart rate too high, the tracing of your heart rhythm irregular and non-shockable.

“We can be done in ten minutes,” the surgeons said.

I’ve never seen surgeons work so fast. They’re usually so particular about their stitches, getting the perfect angle and length for each one.

I’ve also never seen so many anesthesiologists at the head of an operating table.

I’ve never seen an ICU bed booked so quickly.

I’ve never seen someone lose their carotid pulse.


Apparently it’s rare to die on the operating table. They almost always get you to the ICU first.

Twice in eight years, said the anesthesiologist. Once in fifteen years, said the surgeon.

Once in eighty years for you.

I couldn’t bring myself to touch your hand again. I watched, though.

I watched as the room slowly cleared and people tried to figure out what to write and who to call.

I watched as they kept your eyes shut and handled your body just as gently as they had a few hours ago.

I listened to the final zip of the body bag. I don’t know who had the time to switch off the radio, but I’m glad they did.

I listened as the nurse asked God to rest your soul.

I watched you leave in a different kind of bed, to a different place. I’m not sure where.

You can learn a lot from watching. Thank you for letting me watch.

We fixed your hip, sir.

Re-blogged with permission from Shara Yurkiewicz


Shara Yurkiewicz is a fourth-year Harvard Medical School student and contributing blogger to Scientific American. You can read more of her writing and follow her blog, This May Hurt a Bit.



“The Goldfinch” Wins the Pulitzer Prize

Donna Tartt’s third novel, The Goldfinch, has won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. The 700 page-plus tale of thirteen year old, Theo Decker, and the piece of stolen art that carries him into the art underworld, took Tartt a decade to write. The ‘Dickensian’ novel has been praised by critics and fans alike and has remained at the top of the New York Times Bestseller list for over twenty weeks now.


 Cover design © Little, Brown and Company

The Writer’s Life: Richard Ford


Richard Ford by Arild Vågen / CC BY


New York Times bestselling author, Richard Ford, was a keynote speaker at the 2014 North Carolina Literary Festival. The free, weekend long event was hosted at North Carolina State University’s Centennial Campus in the distinguished James B. Hunt Jr. Library, the recent winner of the prestigious Stanford prize for Innovation in Research Libraries.  Ford is a thin man of 70, with receding hair turning white and he has cool, blue-grey eyes that hold and command your attention with tenderness. Laid back, he exudes a sense of calm and warmly invites you to listen in and be a part of his discussion on the writing life.  In the keynote lecture, Ford spoke of his upbringing in Mississippi (and why so many writers come from that state) his struggle with dyslexia and writing about unhappy families. He also wore pink socks.

To date, Ford has written six novels and four collections of short stories. Independence Day was awarded both the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and the PEN/Faulkner Prize, the first time the same novel had ever received both. His most recent novel, Canada, is a coming of age tale of fifteen year old, Del Parsons, whose family life is upended by a single and drastic decision his parents make. It begins with, “First, I’ll tell you about the robbery our parents committed. Then about the murders, which happened later.” Who could ignore an opening line like that? This is Ford’s seventh novel and one after a five year hiatus. Fans are welcoming his return and critics are praising his latest work.

(*Note: A review of Canada will be posted at a later time.)