Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

God, this would be fun to stage. Lark's adaptation turns the tale of Cecelia's rest cure into a sprawling, disorienting playground, perpetually surrounded by yellow wallpaper that seeps and slides insidiously into her body and brain (as well as ours). Disturbing, unsettling, and filled with images sure to linger after you're done, this is how you do it. Absolutely brilliant.

Culture is beautiful. It's also messy, filled with "rules" both spoken and unspoken. Urrutia's monologue is stunning and heartfelt, asking what does it mean to truly belong, and how do you connect with those closest to you despite words themselves being a barrier? A fantastic read. It would be amazing to see performed live.

100 words is not enough.

You start this play & instantly think, "I'm so on board." You get further and realize the immensity of what Kirkman is deconstructing, and you go, "Kirkman, you goddamn genius." But then you get further and hit another line, and you go, "You could also read this this way." And THEN, you could read it this way. Or this way. And that way.

No matter the way(s), the best art makes you feel seen, however old (or new) you are. Stage this now. Forever. For as long as we have art. Goddamn genius.

Why did any of us really make the choices we made as high schoolers? The answers were probably simple, but the reasons those particular answers were the answers couldn't be more complex and layered. Malakhow's beautiful portrait of four youths colliding over the course of several days in Northern New Jersey is stellar in every way. Most exciting, however, is the ensemble of characters Malakhow provides for young actors to dive into, giving them a chance to tackle truly grounded, feeling people their own age. Highly recommend, especially if you're new to his work. It's a fantastic place to start.

Underneath the zany, hilarious kaleidoscope of furniture that is Manny's inner chaos, Marchant weaves a moving story of human connection and coping with trauma. Life may be an absurd ringer that our friends and family must navigate (one that our own actions can easily make worse), but finding those moments of satisfaction and common ground with one another can mean everything. There's a beautiful and romantic "we're all fucked up, but that's okay" poetry in this playground, and any producing team willing to take the dive will have no end of material to analyze. Such a fantastic fucking script.

In a world of man caves and "man" problems (food for poker night, small business ventures, my wife is cheating on me?), Weaver pulls a reverse historical Shakespeare and instructs us that his male characters are to be portrayed by an all-female cast.

This simple, effective choice would be remarkable to watch live. The discussions of these lived in characters attack & dissect stereotype, begging the question, "what are 'man' problems?" What are men? What are women? What are humans?

And what the fuck is "Cashmere Woods?"

Jones has a knack for creating characters and worlds that pulsate with a mad, wry poetry. It's infectious and captivating, and if you're unfamiliar with his work, "Hold Onto Your Hats" is a perfect place to start. A fun, dryly manic tale of writers swapping stories and relationships (as well as how much we really know the other people in them). Yes, we all go through lovesickness and loneliness, but not everyone responds how you might think. Sometimes red flags ARE red flags, baby.

Bars vs public transportation is probably the final showdown. Where do we encounter people at their most primal? Their most strange? Where can we find the gamut of human emotion and existential struggle? Which one wins?

Obviously, bars, because drinking is legally allowed. Blevins' collection of plays are three knockout pieces, one after another after another. It's a fantastic, enthralling group of characters that will make you laugh, gasp, and take your breath away, refusing to return it until ya slap a tip down on the table. This is a piece begging to be produced. Oblige it.

A humorous and heartfelt slice-of-life scene of the timeless struggle, "how the fuck does anyone actually maneuver through college and come out the other side with some well-adjusted growth?" Shep and Mitchell's individual struggles are beautifully real (a testament to Heyman's deft skill with dialogue and characterization), and it's a breath of fresh air to watch two strangers at the crossroads encounter one another.

You know...it actually makes sense when you think about it. Of course the horror authors and librarians in the know are secretly operating behind the scenes for our good. Doing the messy work. The scary work, if you will. Baughfman's short is spooky, hilarious, and just an absolute hoot in every way. It even has poutine. You literally can't get better than that. Oh, wait, thoughtful commentary on the necessity and care of our libraries? I guess you can. Read this. Then do it.