I see my plays as a collection of miserable snow globes: a flurry of betrayals and failings
and insecurities and pain and fears and unknowns and the various “ews” of the world, contained
in a glass dome that screams out for undivided attention. I see my task as catching the audience
in these little worlds and giving the whole thing a shake. What falls loose are chunks of things
that make us squirm in our chairs, things that are off-putting, things that are ugly on the inside. I
find the latter the scariest part of being a person, which is why I always like to write about it.

When my art is successful it is surreal, cruel, and carnivalesque. My plays should feel
like a cross between a thrilling dream and a scary game. I want to create the physical experience
of being dragged through a world that is equal parts captivating and terrifying because I think we
make our greatest discoveries when we opt into surrendering to an experience. I believe that
great art should oscillate between seducing a viewer into something beautiful and harshly
confronting the audience with a mirror into the yuckiest parts of their souls.