Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

Yes. Full disclosure, here: As a ginger, I'm certainly biased towards the titular statement of Williams' beautiful monologue. But beyond that, there's also something about the speaker's musing that gets to the very heart of love and yearning. When that certain someone (or something about them) strikes you, almost inexplicably, and gently burrows their way into your essence, it stays with you. It travels with you across time and distance. Infectious in its simplicity and insight, just a divine monologue all around.

Blevins' Moliere-esque knot is a staggering and hilarious achievement, deftly bringing modern topics into classical theatrical style. What's even more impressive is how she's juggled the delicate nuance of exploring her many characters' orientations and genders respectfully, yet allowed them to be real people with jealousies and imperfections at the same time. No one's the butt of a joke. It's resulted in the best kind of comedy, something funny, but also grounded in humans being helplessly human. So many great one-liners and stage pictures, and a perfect example of what we're missing in the work being produced today.

There's a unique aspect of anxiety where we often know just how ludicrous some of our fears and thoughts are. But that doesn't matter. Our brains are liars. And the fact that the fear in question is likely statistically UNlikely means nothing. Branch's play is an almost startlingly accurate depiction of anxiety and catastrophizing. It's funny, real, and a fantastic two-hander of two women just trying to exist in the insanity of the world. A world in which sometimes we just need haircuts. Maybe. Stellar work.

Tom Stoppard could NEVER.

Pitch-perfectly uproarious and heartfelt, raucous and poignant, Cross' slice of previously heretofore offstage action of "The Scottish Play" stands tall, on its own and alongside the famous tragedy. The physical bits, jokes, and the REFERENCES land again and again, even if you're not as familiar with the source material, and the potential for pure fun is just endless. This is an astoundingly universal and versatile script, and unlike the titular couple, deserves a long, long reign.

Another shining example of horror's potential on the stage. Deray delights us with banter that develops into the retelling of a creepy and frightful urban legend. Following that, all bets are off. Deftly messing with sound, lighting, and our stress levels, this little short is a vivid piece of theatre, perfect for any short play festival.

What begins as an enticing and serene scene beneath the stars turns into something completely unexpected, and deeply poignant. Plumridge's short is a meditation on life, grief, and moving forward with both. Just a lovely and touching little play, with the perfect spice of surrealism hidden inside.

A whodunit to make Christie proud, filled with hidden motives, secret lovers, and deadly machinations. Feeny-Williams' versatility is to be applauded, as it's a piece any age could enjoy, and I could see this having a long life with schools and adult theatres alike. Scratches the itch most well, especially in a genre that we don't see enough of in the modern day.

Oh, this is just brilliant! Creepy, spooky, wry, and filled with a healthy handful of twists, Bray's short Noh Horror is a beast in more ways than one. This would be so much fun to produce AND watch. I cannot overstate that. If you read one short play today, I highly encourage you to make it this one.

A troublingly accurate, thankfully hilarious snapshot of the living insanity that is playwriting in the modern world. We make art for ourselves, but in the hope it will be shared and seen. To what lengths will we go to achieve that? What prompts?

I guess it depends.

Jesus. Gatton's "Alexandria" is staggering. Deeply felt, lived, complex, yet earnestly simple at the same time. I can't remember the last time I've read something that floored me so much that I just couldn't even process it. It's taken some time.

We know Brenda. We know Ray. We know all of these characters. We are them. And at the end of the day, we either believe like one of them, or the other. There is no middle ground in love. It is either absolute, or it is a lie. Highly recommended. This play demands production.