Recommended by Rachael Carnes

Oh my goodness, I love this play! Fresh and irreverent, funny as all get out, and just as relevant today as it would be in 1580. This is how to do historical drama. Make it connect to the present moment, infuse it with humor and pushback, as these four Marys, left to their own for just a moment, rail against the rigidity of their social hierarchy. This is my favorite Lawing play yet! If you haven't read or produced this writer's work, you should!

Atmospheric and lyrical, Cooper-Novack's play invites a close reading, as the characters envelope you in this layered mystery/thriller. Tense yet poetic, there's a dance-like quality to the words, as both women face off, armed with clear objectives, that may or may not be fulfilled. This play takes the concept of writing women back into history in such an intriguing and contemporary direction, asking how those living in the ancient past might react and relate to the now.

Utterly charming. I am a big fan of Rinkel's wry sense of humor. It's not heavy-handed or forced, but just simmering, with a terrific 'the audience is in on it' quality. This play's sense of place, the Staten Island Ferry, is so alive, especially if you know the boat ride. (I rode that boat every weekday for five years, so I know the boat ride!) And here Rinkel imagines a world where the old and the new interact, as Manhattan fades and St George looms larger. It's a wonderful ode to New York, really, to history and to change.

In these few words, poetry, really, Haas creates a moment of such clarity and pain, one chillingly echoed in homes across the country, as parents meekly attempt to explain away the fears in our pervading gun culture. This play centers on a believable dynamic, a family that is totally accessible, with warm, inviting characters. Haas has such a strong ear for language, and this short play will be a memorable anchor in any short play festival, especially one in response to gun violence.

Clear-eyed and constructed with grace and ease, this play reverberates with topical conversation, and yet it brings the potentially-polemic down to a meaningful build up between two kids. Hernandez delves into the margins between cultures, unflinching. The language between these young people is totally believable, and still lyrical and poetic, in its own unique way. I'm a big fan. Produce this yesterday.

Oh, Megan. She's seen some things. This monologue reverberates with the internal and external pressures on the female body. Megan fights against the outside gaze, and chants self-hating epitaphs in the next breath. There's a lot to engage with here, about the binary loops we fall prey to, about our fixation on fitness as a kind of dark space. Megan feels familiar, yet I hope we'll evolve past her. Once again, Wyndham doesn't so much hold up a mirror on our excesses, but a magnifying glass under the noonday sun.

This play's language is just magnetic, pulling the audience into the rhythm and cadence of this simmering world. The crackle between these characters is electric, and Bykowski cleverly structures the tension between them and their mysterious surroundings. This play is not only creepy as all get out, its operating on different levels, all working together. No spoilers. Read and produce this play!

A razor-sharp piece, poignant and poetic. This play drives us to the discomforting connection between gun violence and domestic abuse. Dunn has penned an evergreen tale here, achingly timely and timeless. It's beautiful and visceral and I almost wanted to read it through my fingers, covering my eyes. The writer asks us not to look away.

I appreciate Weaver's tenacity and drive to do new things, explore challenges and engage with the craft of writing in surprising, creative ways. This play is no exception. I read it almost as a blueprint for choreography, a resonant and compelling conversation without a single word spoken, at least not out loud. Still, what defines a great short play is here, demonstrated in Weaver's taut structure and development. This is such an incredible little world that Matthew has built.

This terrific monologue drops us into the heart and mind of a hero, a self-deprecating, funny, insightful word warrior, made very real and accessible in Curry's capable hands. This meaty language would be a gift to an actor, and in this story, we see so much about history, and about becoming the future, and the potential to become ourselves.