Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

Even in the setting of a reading in a conference center such as the Valdez Theatre Conference, the ethereal and mesmerizing atmosphere comes through. The characters grow and change -- literally -- as we listen to the moments and the echoes of words and sounds that make this a tale of lyrical beauty. Written with the music of Mike Vernusky, this would be a thrilling production on stage, and I hope to be there when it comes to full life.

The way we grieve tells a lot about how we see ourselves in relation to our loved ones: those still with us, and those we mourn. In "Shrines," Ashley Rose Wellman shows us how one family clings to the memory of a lost child and does it in a touching, often humorous, and at times creepy way, yet we never lose sight of the loss each character feels and how it has changed them over the years.

Even in the reading at the Valdez Theatre Conference with the cast standing at music stands, the imagery and resonance of the story came through. The depth of feeling for the situations -- facing life-changing decisions and the shelter as a metaphor for both the two and four-legged characters in the play -- was palpable. And the parallels of the lives and decisions that must be made will leave the audience with many impressions long after the play is over. Beautifully crafted.

The reading at the Valdez Theatre Conference gave us intimate insights to a relationship with touching moments, combative clashes, and the unspoken words that make up this bond between two people who clearly love each other. Nothing is overdone but nothing is lost in this achingly beautiful and powerful two-hander.

A fun little tea party this is with all the proper treats and the tables well-turned. You will genuinely grin at the way Christopher Plumridge plays the stakes here, and when the final twist comes, you'll want to be there.

This is not deja-vu; I have recommended this play before in September 2019. But in this finely-tuned revision, Doug DeVita brings the scalpel and sharp focus on the characters to the point that it's a breathtaking trip through the past and present in the lives of these friends and family, lovers and rivals, bringing out the past joys and pain in exquisite and sometimes excruciating detail. The growth of the characters through the years and the regressions to past hurts makes it all the more compelling to watch and hold them to your heart.

This touching and artfully done allegory for the circle of life -- as seen through the eyes of two pigs whose destiny is predetermined -- has a lot of moments that make us laugh so that, in the words of Lord Byron, we may not weep. Taylor Sklenar tells his story with affection and honesty.

Not all of the wounds inflicted in war are visible, and the scars do not heal. In this intense session at a support group, the three men come to grips, if not to terms, with the after-effects of their own battles. Charles Ranum's characters are deeply drawn, avoiding the stereotypes while giving us portraits of men we can all recognize and traits and faults we can see in ourselves. This is a powerful story that must be shared.

Marj O'Neill-Butler has such a way with words that she can convey in a single sentence -- sometimes even a word -- what takes another playwright a tortured monologue to say. In this wry and smart short play, she brings down someone who thinks he knows who he's hitting on, and gets handled deftly and with a twist at the end that makes it all so, so good.

Anyone who has shared a living space will know this scenario and the issues it raises. This is more than just negotiating the space and the personalities and the hopes and dreams that come when an errant piece of hosiery is the symbol of that relationship.

But it goes beyond that. I live alone. Last weekend I did my laundry, but on the way to put the clean clothes away, I found a single sock on the kitchen counter. And now I have read this play.

There are no coincidences.