Midnight at the Writers' Colony
A four-day seminar on screenwriting fuels creativity -- and a late-night literary delirium
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 an Arkansas tourist town which claims to be haunted.
At the Dairy Hollow Writers’ Colony, visitors hear the click-clack of authors typing on laptops – sometimes with ferocious passion. Writers of all types, from novelists and poets to cookbook writers and memoirists, travel to the colony for semi-solitude, inspiration and rejuvenation. The publish-or-perish academic crowd also frequents the enclave.
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 for writers 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. Also, Ms. Siegenthaler’s new feature-length movie Inthralled won best picture at the 2025 Fayetteville Film Fest.
The Dairy Hollow Writers' Colony was an additional draw for the screenwriters. It’s a members-only literary lodge and hangout in the mountain resort town of Eureka Springs. The catch is that guests must submit a writing sample, usually weeks in advance. However, the tourist town has plenty of other lodging for last-minute visitors and non-writers.
Amber Lindley, leader of the screenwriters’ group, has penned festival-winning films like Madelyn Wild and The Sowers. By day, she’s a speech teacher with a lit degree in the college town of Fayetteville, 90 minutes to the southwest. Ms. Lindley is 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 experienced 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 and Brad Adams star in the thriller about a forbidden book that unleashes a murderous curse.
Richard Width, a new member of the screenwriters’ group, arrived in Northwest 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, who lives in Rogers. He formed friendships with other writers 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 theater in Orlando. Since it competes for attention with famous theme parks, the troupe needs a catchy moniker. The name is Orlando Shakes, which sounds like a WNBA expansion team. The theater 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, bicycling and motor rallies. The town has craft shopping, lots of restaurants and bars, and even a haunted hotel. Halfway between boomtown Bentonville and the spectacle of Branson, it’s the top vacation town in the western Ozark Mountains.
Eureka Springs first became famous 150 years ago for its abundance of clean mineral water. The town sits 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, Gothic, and Craftsman houses — 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 looks for the big Christ of the Ozarks statue. An influencer with a selfie-stick seeks a viral meme – or at least a free latte. Pipefitters and preachers. A bejeweled vacationer seeks a dirty martini after hot yoga. A ham-fisted busker serenades cigar-smoking hot-rodders. Birkenstock grandmas with designer shopping bags … and kaleidoscopes for sale!
And beyond all that, Eureka Springs 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 for an afternoon to check out the hotel’s gardens and get a pizza.
The hotel's ghost tour features a basement morgue. It dates to 90 years ago when a deranged quack bought the hotel and promoted it as an asylum. Today, visitors report seeing ghostly nurses 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 Oct. 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 auditorium 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 and 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 the 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 a comfortable, 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 10-foot 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, task lighting and wi-fi.
One of the buildings is a big wooden farmhouse that’s been expanded in several dimensions. The other is a massive mid-century masonry home, inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright, which 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 easy chairs. Handmade quilts and Eastern-style rugs adorn the suites. The dining hall has a massive stone fireplace and a grand piano. And this being Dairy Hollow, it owns an impressive collection of cow pictures, many enshrined in a gender-neutral loo.
The furnishings follow a sort of country bookworm theme that reflects earlier times and a slower life. Many writers find inspiration and productivity there, but some report becoming over excited 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.” Stays range from two days to weeks – maybe as long as it takes to finish a book when an anxious publisher is paying the room charges.
As a special treat for visitors, summer at the Writers’ Colony brings abnormally loud noises of insects and wildlife. High in the Ozark Mountains, crickets and cicadas chirp and beetles click like broken metronomes. Frogs croak rhythmically with occasional bass notes from bullfrogs. Wild melodies of songbirds soar above. Amplified by surrounding hills, this cacophony is famously beautiful but nearly deafening.
Hiking and cycling are steps away, though the neighborhood is hilly. The trees and terrain are scenic. Animals like deer, squirrels, rabbits, and opossums wander. A trolley service to downtown Eureka Springs stops nearby.
But the purpose of the writers’ colony is for visitors to write. The suites lack televisions for that reason. Nobody says that writers can’t enjoy the attractions of Eureka Springs, but it can seem like there’s some subtle encouragement to keep working 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.
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’s found that 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.
Dramatic screenwriting is one of the most difficult disciplines in all of fiction writing. The motives of complex characters must be distilled to a few sentences, and individual scenes need to deliver the emotional wallop of a fine short story. In addition to the literary meat, screenplays include concise instructions to the director, actors, and technicians for the movie shoot.
Most of the screenwriters at the retreat seemed to genuinely like to write. Some of them say they do it for artistic fulfillment, to create something of significance, and to 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 a reporter is flat broke.
Ms. Rife poured details of her life and romance into the script for After the Beep. But she knew that editorial changes would come when she relinquished control to director Marc Crandall and his crew. “We needed more conflict which I had not put in the script,” she said. “So, understanding that all movies must 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 enough money 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 and the workload.
“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 a costly 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 dramadies 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 composing 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.
MIDNIGHT AT THE WRITERS’ COLONY
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 was in a lower summer path where it appeared larger and had an orange hue like a Halloween pumpkin waiting to be carved.
…Dark clouds blow in fast and the first booms of thunder shake the writers’ colony. Lightning rips across the mountains as sideways rain pounds the windows.
A discordant dyad resonates from the piano downstairs. Rain sounds like a gong when it hits the skin of some metal object. Or was that a cat bell? Porch chimes jangle crazily. Who could sleep during hours of this commotion — and the smell of ozone in the hot, humid air?
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 voice of Maya Angelou or the reedy rambling of the 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. Scrubbed by rain, the roadway shines. The collective soul of insects begins to stir and a few birds chirp tentatively. A lone fawn wanders, blinking in the sun.
The writers’ colony may not be haunted, but the night’s delirium left a vision of an endless stream of pages escaping out the windows and flying away:
Purple-prosed short stories with startling payoffs; textbooks that will remain unread; 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; a sex manual typed with two thumbs on a cellphone; a memoir of life with my dog; a hagiography; 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 flying on a leaf-rustling wind — an endless stream of ideas soaring on an updraft, over the mountains and out to everywhere else.
…
(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.