Neil Simon wrote an essay that I love in which he describes himself as a two-headed beast—one part is the human involved in interactions, and the second is a writer-monster who’s simultaneously observing and taking notes. That aptly describes my process and inspiration as everything I write is based on what I’ve seen or heard or lived. I write not only what I know, but in order to know—to analyze everything from the silly to the serious in order to make sense of my world.

I also write from the same place as Phillip Roth who said, “Writing for me was a feat of self-preservation. If I did not do it, I would die. So I did it.” I write with the same intention—it’s a process that couples drive and despair, and one that I believe is a nexus for provocative work. I find that when my heart gets crushed and says “oh my god, this is devastating, I can’t survive,” while my head is yelling at me to take notes because this experience is a gold mine--that’s the sweet spot where I find the most compelling material.

Childhood traumas and humiliations are central in my plays; they are salacious and shocking…even shameful. I am driven to bring those tragedies to life by depicting the unspeakable—sometimes with subtlety, often with mockery, and always in full color. Ultimately my goal as a playwright is to share a personal experience that resonates with the audience so that we both feel less alone. Whether they are gasping or guffawing, I want to grab them by the throat.