When I first moved to New York, I was ushering for a play by the great John Henry Redwood. During intermission, he chatted with me about his production. He could tell that I was a young playwright, new to the city, and he was kind enough to invite me to lunch to chat about theatre. The next week, while I munched on fries, he asked me, “What do you write about?” I started telling him plot points of a recent play. He stopped me. “No,” he said, “What do you really write about? What’s inside of all of your plays?” I was stumped, so I said, “I don’t know. What do you write about?”

“Love,” he said. “I write about love.”

By the end of the meal, I had an answer: hope. Not the kind of hope that is all tied up in a neat bow, but many of my plays include the possibility that things could, maybe, just maybe, get better.

Mr. Redwood and died a year later, and I never forgot that conversation.

My published plays are ten-minute plays, and I love the genre. I love how you can pack an entire, multi-layered story into ten-minutes. These stories include kitchen-sink realism kinds of plays (“In the MeanTime,” “The Match,” “Mistaken Identity”) and surrealistic, highly theatrical plays (“Painting Seventeen,” “Occupied” or “The Cooking King”). I’ve also written several full-length plays about a variety of topics: an Israel/Palestine play inspired by a true story (Between These Walls), relationships with Blacks and Jews in a comedy about friends who grew up together (Caught), and a play about three gay men and one of their mothers (Running).

A few years ago, five of my ten-minute plays were produced together. My new play "Red, White and Blue" combines several of my short plays that take place in the present and a one act that takes place in the future. A company of actors would play multiple roles in this play that explores where we are in America and a dystopian vision of where we are going.


One reviewer said that my work showed “people living in and overcoming an absurdly impersonal reality.” I thought that was a great description of those pieces and of some of my other work as well. Most of my plays are both comedic and dramatic. I find comedy in the absurd situations of life and find sadness and depth in moments where characters may be laughing out loud.

I care deeply about social and economic justice and want people on and off the stage to reflect the diversity of our society. If I write about a group that isn’t a part of my primary identities, I always do it in connection with folks who are a part of that identity and only after many, many years of long relationships. Some of my plays call specifically for certain races, ethnicities or sexual orientations, but as a producer and as a writer, if I write something where the character can be various backgrounds, I don’t believe the default should or has to always be white, heterosexual Christians. I believe this makes for better art and a better experience for everyone.