As a young girl, my early experiences were shaped by my parents, who were very engaged in community service and activism. My father was an early Peace Corps volunteer and leader and career USAID officer. My mother, an artist, came to the U.S. from Brazil during the military dictatorship and brought a spirit of service and activism with her. As parents to a child with cerebral palsy — my brother, Geoffrey — they were actively involved in the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990.

Growing up, I always felt most natural exploring the world through reading and writing. It was my way of seeing the world as it existed and imagining how it could be. I watched people closely and learned how power flows between them — through words, but ever more acutely through silence. I often had difficulty expressing myself outside of writing and the experiences I had in life were deeply felt. This became more acute in adolescence.

In early adulthood, I thought perhaps acting might crack my shell — I had always admired the courage and expressiveness of actors. I joined the Studio Theatre Acting Conservatory in D.C. (now Studio Acting Conservatory) where I ended up reading and interpreting all kinds of texts, from Greek tragedy to Shakespeare, contemporary theater to comedy and absurdism. What started as acting, became self-guided study of playwriting and dramaturgy. I started to understand plays. I started writing them. I’d use writing to explore the world around me — filled with power imbalances, systems of oppression, and fear. I started writing about how these darknesses shape our identities and interactions. I sought training at The Writer’s Center in Maryland, Gotham Writers Workshop in New York, and Playwright’s Forum in D.C. (with deep thanks to my mentor, Ernie Joselowitz).

My stories are dark, but I am not. I tend toward optimism, sometimes overly, to be frank. My plays all have a kind of unrelenting discord with an undercurrent of sweetness and hope. You’ll see this in Little Wars, After Eleven, Ten, What It Means to Choke, Palm and the others.

In 2014, I wanted to draft my “true north” as a playwright, so I developed a framework that I still follow today. It includes ten criteria for building a world, characters, and story that contribute to positively impacting our lives and world. I share my true north with you.

As a storyteller, my writing will:

- Render lives rarely seen on stage.
- Provide an acute understanding of human idiosyncrasy.
- Speak in witty and perceptive ways about our toxic struggle with power.
- Find affirmation in life amid hopelessness and horror.
- Explore technological advances that bring people together and tear them apart.
- Explore personal expression amid complicated identity constraints.
- Address sexual identity and emancipation.
- Examine how suffering capriciously rains down on some but not others.
- Employs playful intellectual buoyancy.
- Explore how we camouflage past trauma.

In addition to playwriting, I have an academic background and professional life outside of the theater. It very much informs my artistic work. You can learn more about that at graziellajackson.com.