Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

A writer's process is a delicate thing, different for all of us. Some of us have our pre-session rituals or ambiance we must have, while others prefer our spaces just so. And Philip is...well, there's a lot going on when you're imagining a bust of your favorite author and inspiration talking back at you. Seriously, Philip, what is this? Is this motivational for you? Do you need an external force to help give you drive? Mandryk's short play is utterly hilarious, and the only folks that will have more fun with this play than the audience are the actors.

Women in STEM! Women in STEM!

It’ll hit all of us at probably a different point in Syran’s weaving, history-spanning epic of four detentionees tasked with writing a fairly complex essay: “How far have the sciences progressed since the Enlightenment? And how far haven’t women’s rights?” At once a condemnation of this, and a celebration of the great and genius minds who broke through it all, this is a fantastic play for all audiences. Filled with depth (for the modern & historical characters alike), and evocative of the greatest human aspirations. Excellently constructed.

More than any other Pantheon, the Norse gods have always had a unique penchant for buffoonery in their wanton violence. The Greeks are so dramatic they could never. Syran not only perfectly nails this tone, but deftly captures the turmoil and uncertainty of a people transitioning faiths. True or no, the stories we have, the ones told to us as children, the same ones we share and tell again as we age, they are what define us. A moving, beautiful exploration of cycles, beginnings and ends, family, and how everything is more or less Loki’s fault.

A delightful bit of weird for your morning. Or evening. Or if Kimmel's doing a bit that's dragging on too long and you need to escape into your phone for ten minutes. Is "Eternal Crushing" a good thing? Bad? Like all things, perhaps it depends on the context. Perhaps it's subjective. Like awards. Especially awards we give to ourselves. Bultrowicz is incredible when it comes to saying much with little, and this is another beautiful (and surreal) example. The designers will have a lot of fun with this puzzle too.

Floyd-Priskorn's "Live, Laugh, Lobotomize" was a touching, hilarious, and delightfully kitschy exploration of depression and (for lack of a better phrase) being alive in a society. "A Shop in the Darkness" is all this and more, expanding the lore and giving Ramiform the other half of their buddy comedy duo. There is a lot more juicy stuff to dwell on, as well as take in, serving only to compliment the adage that while depression and fear and negativity may not be a choice, choosing to fight them is. And that fight needs as many humans (or demons) as possible.

There are few playwrights dead or living that can capture the oft forgotten, but innate joy and jubilance of being alive. Or so eloquently demonstrate the vital human need to create. Mr. Martin is a goddamned wonder. Not only has he penned an incredibly relatable short comedy about the side effects of living in a society that pushes its own values and ideas of worth on its members, but it has cows. COWS! The things quarter-pounders are made of! It also has more that I will not spoil. This is a beautiful, beautiful play, and an ode to life.

Relatively often I will describe a play as "delicious fun." Never has that descriptor been so pun intended. This play provides an absolute blast for actors, designers, and audiences alike. We've perhaps seen "zombies?" at a fast-food joint before, but never like this, and rarely with such solid execution. Funny, just spooky enough, and terrific in every way. And very relatedly, I'm feeling peckish now.

Oooh baby, this is terrifying. It’s also great, spooky fun for a trio of performers. The dread creeps in and escalates so succinctly that it’s almost as hard to believe as the app itself. Terror doesn’t so much come from answers, but from what isn’t said. The words left out. The implications beneath the text. Perfect usage of letting us do the scary work in our heads instead of showing us a monster. The Black Mirror tech is just the cherry on top.

Grounded by the life of Suzanne Valadon (someone we would today refer to as a "multi-hyphenate"), Syran's epic script transports us straight into the middle of Montmartre during the height of Impressionism. I literally feel more French after reading this play. Am I allowed to say that? You can smell the café pastries and coffee and hear the train stations from the page. Mostover, the interweaving story brushes us, just like Valadon, against giants of artists, delving deep into the oldest age questions: “Why do we paint?” “And what does the choice to make art demand of us?” Beautifully human.

A tender and unblinking short play of two women finding solace and love in one another whilst beset by the worst of humanity. Powerful, moving, and rich in character, this is just a powerhouse all-around.