Recommended by Greg Burdick

Weaver’s work in this monologue is completely irreverent. And it’s a dark delight. His off-center sense of humor boldly comes from a place we all have inside ourselves... somewhere... whether we care to admit it or not. This piece exemplifies the lengths we’ll go to when we find “the one;” whether the love of our lives is a person, or the best peach cobbler ever. Oh. And just in case there was any confusion, his succinct stage directions pretty much have it all nailed down. Loved!

This fantastic short is the next step in a logical progression of all those habit-forming reality shows... you know the ones- depicting the cut-throat climate that is our modern culture: vying for social media spotlight, passive aggressions, and helicopter parenting to give our kids that extra edge they need. The dialogue feels real... a sharp contrast to the artificial kindness the three moms put on around each other. Give Hayet 5 more minutes, and we’ll see one of them flipping the prop table in a knock-down drag-out fight. You’ll love to hate these ladies.

Haas gives us an endearing 10 minute play with "The End of the Road." Maybe honoring the final wishes of our parents isn't about them. Maybe it's more about us... what they want for us... in one last effort at impacting our lives. Forcing us to face our fears. Promoting self-reliance. And, learning how to cope when you're thirty miles from chocolate and the car won't start.

After reading many of Asher Wyndham’s shorter works, I was looking forward to seeing what he would do with longer form. The Platypodes did not disappoint. Audiences will instantly sympathize with Allegra’s dilemma, but at the same time, Jerusalem Joe’s compassion for her brother with Down syndrome makes it difficult to hate his politics. The result: a topic which frequently provokes a polarizing, stalemate discussion, yields a well-crafted story that admirably humanizes both sides. Bonus points to Wyndham for the creation of Vito... an absolute gift for underrepresented actors. I want to see this show.

You know that feeling you get when you see or read a play that instantly gives you the urge to scream “I’ve been saying that for years!” ??? Liza Case prompted that response from me... and probably every other educator that has read this outstanding work. I’m putting this one on the very long list of plays I wish I’d written.
Liza, thanks for teleporting us into the future, and showing the rest of the world what we teachers fear might be coming.

“Tiny Baby” hits every note of the “We’re First Time Parents” theme song: the fear of inadequacy, the worry you’ll be discovered not knowing what the hell you’re doing, the anxiety about the future prospects of your newborn son or daughter. It has all the zaniness of an eleventh-hour SNL sketch, but there’s sophisticated architecture underneath in this 10 minute play. Great callback closer.

A grim meditation on the ulitimate consequences of living alone. Pazniokas uses structure to dictate the passage of time in a quick-fire series of vignettes. Each grows increasingly urgent for Greta as she tries in desperation to lock down the source of the smell. The play’s grisly conclusion instantly prompts the question: how could that happen? And yet, truth is always stranger than any fiction we might devise... it could most certainly happen. Take a deep whiff of GOODNIGHT... it’ll stay with you.

Asher Wyndham has a delightfully uncanny knack for creating memorable monologues. This one is no exception. Much like Valerie from his “Cosplay Monologue,” 20 Something has some strong opinions, and (s)he wants you to hear ALL of them. Wyndham cleverly bundles our speaker up under layer after layer of heavy winter clothes, shivering, yet very much in heat... setting up a huge comedic payoff at the scene’s climax. Yeah. The title is startling. But so is this playwright’s ability to stimulate conversation about hookup culture... and it’s pretty funny too.

Stout shows us quite masterfully how a brief, dense, somewhat cryptic poem can be transformed into a highly theatrical event. Giving us the points of view of the girls, the boys, and their parents... along with the foreboding presence of the balloonman, heightens the intensity of the storytelling. It’s hard to read it without hearing the rhythms and tempos (some from the source material, much more from Stout’s creative well.) I’d love to see (and hear!) a team of actors perform this. It has the potential to be absolutely haunting.

As the smoke clears, and glowing embers begin to fade, there is devastating destruction left behind that must be reckoned with between a fire marshal and a young girl. But it’s quickly evident that the fire isn’t the only source of trauma in this tale. It’s achingly raw, conjuring that unsettling, familiar, stomach-sickening feeling of dread. We know what happened, yet the girl surprises us in so many other ways. Beautifully written. I’m still marveling at the title.