Recommended by Steven G. Martin

Coincidentally, I read "Not My Job" on Earth Day and I love it. It is a message play, its point of view is strong and obvious, its characters are diametrically opposed to the point of being Good Guy/Bad Guy. This play will rouse some to cheer and anger others because it is unwavering and direct. And I love it.

Diana Burbano's El Veterano is a person we all need in our lives and frankly we all should emulate: a person who cares about friends and family, about the state of the world, about civic duty. And all that comes across clearly in less than 2 pages of "Fortunate Son".

This laugh-out-loud comedy is unlike other wedding day farces in that character flaws have nothing to do with cold feet and a fear of commitment. We can't get down the aisle because a whirlwind of empathy and kindness, selfishness, and coffee. "Her Big Day" is a comic delight and should have a robust production history.

The intensity of this short drama is at a high level before the first line of dialogue because of Debra A. Cole's visuals: An all-orange room with a lead pipe on a table. It only increases with inscrutable characters who know too much, an act of violence with no repercussion, and an unnerving cycle of beginning again without certainty that progress is made. Is this hell? Limbo? A place for rebirth? A con? Its intensity belies a life-changing location and will jolt audiences.

Although titled "Treading Water," I fear Molly may soon feel like she's drowning. She bears the dual yokes of responsibility and being alone in Marj O'Neill-Butler's monologue. We know who Molly is talking to, we hear her plea for help but at the core her role has changed from romantic partner to primary caregiver. And it is life-altering and difficult.

Oh so dark! Oh so good as Josh Gauthier puts his protagonist Maddy through hell in this monologue. Even before the first word is spoken, the visuals will put an audience on edge. And give Gauthier credit for exploring Maddy in depth as we understand the pressures she faces, the memories that once sustained her, and her even darker actions that bring #Cooked to its heights. Or depths. Excellent.

Much of this short comedy is Elaine baiting a trap and an audience -- especially those with a history of being screwed over by managers and corporate leaders -- feeling a pit in their stomach for the earnest, talented January. Ying Ying Li's ending makes me wonder, though, if January set and sprang her own trap. I'd like to think so, and I feel glee about it.

Mathew Green has left traces, clues that express the characters and conflicts in this emotional drama. They're everywhere, but the audience has find them, like they're archeologists on a dig. A man in a conservative dark suit holding a phone in a garish case, the mention of a note, the repetition of the word traditional. And as the audience understands the clues and the traces, their hearts open for Betsy and John and they understand their pain and points of view. It's a damn good script.

Unrelenting tension. The strain is real, natural, and rough from the start. But Alaina Tennant doesn't let up; even when audiences encounter a surprising turn that feels like it should address the conflict, nope, Tennant turns again to break the characters' and the audience's heart.

I loved watching this one-minute about perspectives on art and appreciation when it was performed at my local community theater. I love the two characters being diametrically opposed for comic effect. And I also love that Alicia Ana Hernandez-Roulet gives them flaws: one is perhaps out of touch and a snob and the other is perhaps a bit too hands-on and a boor. This is a terrific comedy that would play terrifically well with any audience.