Midnight at the Writers' Colony
A fan’s notes from a gathering of screenwriters in a haunted mountain village
By Mickey Mercier
EUREKA SPRINGS – After sunset, the darkness comes fast to the Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow. Shadowed by a limestone cliff and steep hills, the small campus sits on the edge of this Arkansas tourist town which claims to be haunted.
Summer evenings at the Writers’ Colony bring unusually loud noises of insects and wildlife. High in the Ozark Mountains, the loud chirps of crickets and cicadas and the clicking of beetles are the aural background. Frogs croak incessantly with occasional bass notes from bullfrogs. Wild melodies of songbirds soar above. This beautiful but nearly deafening cacophony, amplified by the surrounding hills, is a special treat for visitors.
Another persistent noise at Dairy Hollow is the click-clack of writers typing on laptops – sometimes with furious passion. Authors of all types, from novelists and poets to cookbook writers and memoirists, travel to the colony for a semi-solitude, inspiration and rejuvenation. The publish-or-perish academic crowd also frequents the place.
This July, a dozen screenwriters gathered at the colony for four-days of concentrated writing, collaboration and brainstorming. The Northwest Arkansas Screenwriters Collective organized the seminar. Most of the members are active in the state’s growing independent-film industry.
Two of those screenwriters currently have films on the festival circuit: Kate Siegenthaler’s My Italian Waiter and DZ Rife’s After the Beep. Ms, Siegenthaler’s feature-length thriller Inthralled will receive a red carpet premiere on Sept. 19 at the Fayetteville Film Fest.
The Dairy Hollow Writers' Colony was an additional draw for the screenwriters. It’s one of the most interesting and rewarding places to stay in the mountain resort town of Eureka Springs. The catch is that guests must submit a writing sample, usually weeks in advance. However, the town has plenty of other lodging for casual visitors.
Amber Lindley, leader of the screenwriters’ group, has penned festival-winning films like The Sowers and Madelyn Wild. By day, she’s a speech teacher with a lit degree in the college town of Fayetteville, 90 minutes to the southwest. She’s a “script doctor” for hire and produced After the Beep.
Ms. Lindley’s recipe for screenplays, compiled from various sources, is concise and lucid – a series of bite-sized steps that can yield a basic film script for any motivated writer. But most of the screenwriters at the weekend were well beyond the basics.
Ms. Siegenthaler, a full-time psychotherapist who lives in Bentonville, an hour from Eureka Springs, switched to screenwriting from poetry and fiction about 20 years ago. At the retreat, she worked on the script for her next movie – a prequel to Inthralled.
“I loved connecting with other screenwriters and my own work,” said Ms. Siegenthaler, who’s been making short films and documentaries for a decade. She has a lot riding on Inthralled, her first dramatic feature. Annie Sullivan stars in the tale of a forbidden book that unleashes a murderous curse.
Richard Width, a new member of the screenwriters’ group, arrived in Arkansas last year as an established playwright and actor. His 2023 theatrical adaptation of Dracula premiered in New York City – which earned him membership in the exclusive Dramatists Guild.
“The retreat was an inspiration,” said Mr. Width, of Rogers. He formed alliances with other authors and described the atmosphere of the writers’ colony as “a pocket universe.”
He was working on two memoirish projects inspired by his other job in the emotionally intense profession of hospice nursing. One is a pitch for a non-fiction book, the other a movie script he’s submitting for festival judging.
Mr. Width worked for eight years as a staff actor and director at a busy Shakespeare troupe in Orlando. Since it competes for attention with legendary theme parks, the theater needs a catchy moniker. Its name is Orlando Shakes, which sounds like an WNBA expansion team. The troupe specializes in accessible adaptations of works by the Bard and other classics – spirited productions in which the world-class stage acting might be punctuated by pyrotechnics or showgirls.
A MOUNTAIN HIDEOUT … WITH GHOSTS!
Eureka Springs brims with arts, music, food, rustic lodges and themed festivals. It’s a destination for camping, hiking, fishing, bicycling and motor rallies. The town has boutique shopping, lots of restaurants and bars, and even a haunted hotel. Halfway between boomtown Bentonville and the spectacle of Branson, it’s the best vacation town in the western Ozarks.
Eureka Springs first became famous 150 years ago for its abundance of clean mineral water. The town is on a mountain irrigated by a myriad of streams like a leaky showerhead. An outpost on the westward trek, it attracted thirsty pioneers, dowsers and health nuts – along with the usual outlaws, speculators and shills.
The town’s rapid early expansion is still evident in its crazy patchwork of architectural styles - ornate Victorian mansions sit beside hillside shacks and Italianate villas. Greek Revival houses], Gothic, Craftsman, and everything in between line the winding hilly streets. It’s a glorious architectural mess, spilled across the mountainside like mismatched chunks of candy.
The resident population is only 2,200, but the town (formally a city) swells with year-round vacation trade. For decades, Eureka Springs has been a freewheeling haven in the Bible Belt with a fascinating ecosystem of townies and visitors.
Graying hippies with waist-length ponytails rub elbows with fit, tattooed lesbians in biker bars. Wiccans and hillbillies mingle with sculptors and off-road bicyclists. Reiki masters and rebels. A stray dog howls at a poetry slam. Giant cupcakes! An architecture fan from Boston tinkers with a Leica camera. Tarot cards and mentalists! A pilgrim seeks the big Christ of the Ozarks statue. Pipefitters, preachers. An influencer with a selfie-stick tracks a viral meme – or at least a free latte. A bejeweled vacationer wants a dirty martini after hot yoga. A ham-fisted busker serenades cigar-smoking hot-rodders. Birkenstock grandmas with designer shopping bags. Cougars and kaleidoscopes!
And on top of all that, Eureka Spring is haunted – maybe even legitimately. The town has a reputation for ghost sightings, inexplicable noises, flickering lamps, and disembodied hands reaching out of hotel mirrors.
Eureka Springs has gleefully promoted the supernatural theme, turning it into a visitor draw. The town’s even been called the “Halloween City” where the haunting happens all year.
Much of the horror vibe flows from the Crescent Hotel & Spa – an 1886 Romanesque palace built of limestone. It’s a genuinely elegant building that’s informal and a little shabby chic. You can get a room or just take the kids to check out the hotel’s gardens and pools or get a pizza.
The hotel's ghost tour features a basement with a morgue and autopsy slabs. These artifacts date to 90 years ago, when a deranged quack bought the hotel and promoted it as an asylum. Today, visitors report seeing ghostly nurses still wheeling gurneys in the morgue.
Two of Eureka Springs’ biggest horror events come the week before Halloween. The Nightmare in the Ozarks Film Festival runs from October 22 to 25. The New York Times said it’s one of the five best horror-movie festivals. The venue has something to do with that: a century-old 900-seat theater where Ray Charles performed.
October 25 also brings the town’s annual Zombie Crawl, which begins at noon and culminates with a costume parade at 6 p.m. It’s for all ages with food booths a seasonal market. The parade is a celebratory spectacle where make-believe ghouls perform Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” dance.
Despite all this, the Writers' Colony at Dairy Hollow itself is not haunted. You can ask anyone – it's the conventional wisdom. Though colony’s less than a half mile from the Crescent Hotel, as the raven flies, it has been mostly immune to the freaky goings-on around town.
Shira Fouste, the writers’ colony’s coordinator, allows that some creepy phenomena may have occurred over the years. “Little events, unusual things, but not ghosts,” she said.
Never mind that most of the writers’ suites at the colony are named after dead poets and novelists like Maya Anjelou, Langston Hughes and Marianne Moore.
A SUMMER CAMP FOR WRITERS
The Dairy Hollow Writers’ Colony resembles a summer camp for grown-ups more than the award-winning bed-and-breakfast it used to be. It has a dining hall for gatherings and overflowing bookshelves everywhere. It's an informal, lived-in place – something like a country boarding school where the kids get to make the rules.
On weekdays, a concierge-like front desk helps resident writers with pens, pencils and restaurant tips, arranges airport rides and local shopping runs, loans pieces of computer gear, and assists with printing and even package handling. Beyond that, the staff's main function is to provide encouragement and a sympathetic ear to writers-in-residence. And they do this well.
If the writer colony is like a summer camp, then Ms. Fouste is currently the head counselor. She’s attentive, reassuring and generous enough to be motherly sometimes. “We reflect the character of the town, which is artsy, curious and intimate,” said Ms. Fouste whose family also runs a B&B in town.
The comfort-food cooking of the colony’s Czech-born chef Jana Jones mixes styles like vegan, school cafeteria, and Eastern European grandma. She handles special dietary needs – and can bake. She spreads the big oak table with a hearty dinner five nights a week. For other meals, the residents can forage in a well-stocked larder or venture to eateries within a mile or two.
The colony has about a dozen writer’s suites in two buildings. The suites include queen-bed sleeping quarters, a refrigerator or kitchenette, and a work area with a desk, power strip and task lighting.
One of the buildings is a big wooden farmhouse that’s been expanded in several directions. The other is a massive mid-century masonry home inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright. It houses a warren of handsome suites. Many of the colony’s rooms have their own porches or patios, and a big party deck can accommodate everyone.
The decor throughout the colony is an eclectic assemblage of old wooden furniture and comfortable chairs. Handmade quilts and Eastern-style rugs adorn the suites. The dining hall has a massive stone fireplace, a grand piano, and a 10-foot oak dining table. And this being Dairy Hollow, it has perhaps the world’s best collection of cow pictures, many enshrined in a gender-neutral loo.
The furnishings are mismatched by inn standards, but they follow a sort of country bookworm theme that’s comfortable and resonant of earlier times and a slower life. Many writers find inspiration and productivity there, but some report becoming over-stimulated by the artistic atmosphere, collegiality and park-like environs.
In 2024, more than 250 writers stayed at the Writers’ Colony, said Ms. Fouste. These included a Nobel laureate, a Haiku master, and a local author of lesbian travel-romance novels. However, the colony also welcomes “inexperienced writers and those of all levels who are legitimately working on their craft.” That’s what the writing sample is meant to show. Stays range from two days to weeks – maybe as long as it takes to finish a book with an anxious publisher footing the bill.
Hiking and cycling are steps away, though the neighborhood is hilly. The trees and terrain are beautiful. Animals like deer, squirrels, rabbits, and opossums are around. A trolley service to downtown Eureka Springs stops nearby.
But the purpose of the writers’ colony is for you to write. The suites lack televisions for that reason. Nobody says that you can’t enjoy the attractions of Eureka Springs, but it can seem like there’s some subtle encouragement to keep writing instead.
A writer known as Crescent Dragonwagon founded the colony 25 years. Today it’s a registered non-profit organization with a full-time staff of four.
Writers pay an all-inclusive nightly fee that covers much of the colony’s operating costs, according to Jude Gaillot, interim director — who’s writing a trivia book about Eureka Springs himself. The colony also gets grants from private and public sources, interested parties.
John Hoppenthaler, a writer-in-residence for two weeks, was working on his fifth book of poetry. He said the colony helps him “find time, be alone, and work when I want.” Being there gives him respite from the demands of a university professorship and raising a family.
Professor Hoppenthaler teaches writing and literature at East Carolina University in Greenville. He said writer colonies are useful for getting work done, and he has tried several. “Some are fancier with newer facilities and more amenities, but Dairy Hollow is informal, reasonably priced and has good food,” he said.
This was his second residency at the Dairy Hollow colony. Asked whether it might be even slightly haunted, the poet dismissed the notion with a backward wave of his hand.
SCREENWRITERS’ LOT
The dedication of the screenwriters at the retreat was something of a mystery. As a group, they are successful middle-aged career people with families. They’re highly educated and well adjusted with busy lives. Why do they devote so much time, energy and money to the demanding craft of screenwriting? It pays little to nothing at the semi-pro level and making films yourself can be very expensive.
Also, dramatic screenwriting is one of the most difficult disciplines in all of fiction writing. The motives of complex characters need to be distilled to a few sentences. And individual scenes sometimes must deliver the emotional wallop of a fine short story. In addition to the literary aspects, a screenplay includes concise instructions to the director, actors, and technicians for the movie shoot.
Most of the screenwriters at the retreat seem to genuinely like to write. Perhaps it’s their chance for artistic fulfillment, to create something of significance, and earn the admiration of peers.
The work ethic of these screenwriters contrasts sharply with that of certain journalists whose method involves daydreaming, reading newspapers, drinking whiskey, and looking for amusing people to drink with. Eureka Springs, with its many bars and interesting individuals, is an excellent destination for an assignment. The actual writing, however, comes last. It’s an unpleasant obligation performed only under duress – when an impatient editor fumes or the reporter is flat broke.
Ms. Rife poured the story of her life and romance into the script for After the Beep, but she knew that editorial changes would come once director Marc Crandall and collaborators took control of the story. “We needed more conflict which I had not put in the script,” she said. “So, understanding that all movies have to have conflict, I was okay with the changes.”
Ms. Rife holds a degree in theater from the University of Arkansas at Little Rock and has worked as a professional set designer. As a writer, she won awards for the comedy short Back to Bora and the feature script Riley’s Gift. Another script in progress, To Hell With Manners, had been stuck until she bounced it around at the Dairy Hollow retreat.
In general, a script needs to be flat-out great to attract the money required to produce it (even if the film turns out to be mediocre). That’s why some indie screenwriters produce and fund their own movies – typically short films and documentaries at first because they’re cheaper and easier. Digital equipment and other tech advances have lowered costs.
“It’s fun, my retirement gig,” said Ms. Rife. “I don’t have to make a living at it and I have a little money to put in.” The latter is a dangerous idea because when writers start paying to make movies, it can become an expensive hobby – like exotic-car collections, Paris shopping sprees, or photo trekking the seven continents.
Some of the screenwriters discussed the “nine-act structure” for romance dramedies like the ones on Lifetime network. The script opens with a familiar fish-out-of-water tale: A prim career woman loses her job, moves to a rustic area for a new start, gets drunk at the local bar, and bangs a bearded oaf in a flannel shirt (who eventually turns out to be marriageable). A commercial script like that could bring a good payday – if you can stomach writing it and then manage to sell it somehow.
Commercial success is barely possible. It’s true that some screenwriters have gone overnight from couch surfing in downtown LA to buying a beach house in Malibu. But the odds of that are probably about the same as those for writing a hit song.
For Ms. Siegenthaler, screenwriting is an obsession “It’s an addiction that I can’t walk away from,” she said. “I call it The Bug. Where it originates, I don’t know. Perhaps a childhood experience, or it’s in the blood.”
“Film is a powerful medium. Maybe it gives us a voice. Maybe it converts our inner visions to ones that we can share. It’s a dream – and when it comes true, it’s exhilarating.” said Ms. Siegenthaler who spent five years making Inthralled.
STORMY MIDNIGHT
A severe thunderstorm came to Eureka Springs on July 10, 2025. The moon was full — a Buck Moon, which is the proper name for a full moon in July. The orb is in a lower summer path where it appeared larger and has an orange hue like a Halloween pumpkin waiting to be carved.
…Dark clouds arrive and the first booms of a thunder shake the writers’ colony. Lightning rips across the mountains and sideways rain pounds the windows.
Who could sleep with this commotion — and the smell of ozone in the hot air? A discordant dyad resonates from the piano below Or was that a cat bell? Rain sounds like a gong when it hit the skin of some metal object. Porch chimes jangle crazily.
The Buck Moon storm rages. House lights flicker and computers click and hum as they reboot. The road is a sluiceway for overflow rain gushing down the mountain.
Could those noises be people talking? Is that the low husky oratory of Maya Angelou or the reedy rambling of the even longer-dead poet Marianne Moore? A few minutes of fitful sleep on a sweaty rumpled bed are all they allow.
The morning is clear and pleasant. The road looks as though it's been scrubbed. The collective soul of insects begins to stir and a few birds chirp tentatively. A lone fawn wanders, blinking in the sun.
The writer’s colony may not be haunted, the night’s delirium suggests an endless stream of pages escaping out the windows and flying away.
Purple-prosed short stories with startling payoffs; textbooks that will never be read; a soliloquy; a road-movie idea scribbled on sticky notes; a devils-food cookbook; the self-confessional novel of an alcoholic sex addict …
Unconventional haiku and disembodied poetics: a bodice-ripping romance paperback; an epic typed with two thumbs on a cellphone; a memoir of life with my dog; a hagiography; a self-help book about somatic wellness; a new case solved by a series detective, and another try at that damned doctoral thesis ….
The pages twist in the breeze of Dairy Hollow, whirring like a flock of baby bats on a leaf-rustling wind – an endless stream of ideas on an updraft, over the mountains and out to everywhere.
…
(Text and photos copyright 2025 by Mickey Mercier)
NOTE: The Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow seeks a permanent executive director. Beyond the ability to manage a non-profit corporation with an aging campus, the job requires someone with a “passion for the position,” said interim director Jude Gaillot, a former newspaper editor. “The strength of the staff is supporting writers.” Also currently open is the marketing director job, which will emphasize social media.