Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

Marj O'Neill-Butler has a unique way of getting us to know and feel characters so well that within a few lines we feel as if we've known them for a very long time. We are here witnessing two strangers brought together by the miracle of two births taking place off-stage and yet we know how both of them will be welcomed into the world by their families. A touching and truthful moment for father and grandmother with worthy amount of love, humor, and compassion.

In the days of AM Top 40 radio (and a bottle of Annie Greensprings wine), it was all too easy to mis-hear the lyrics of your favorite number 1 hit. Arianna Rose has taken that to giddy heights with this short absurd piece that speaks in nothing but those mislyrics (aka mondegreens) and artfully, skillfully makes sense and has a giggly good time doing it, proving that the ants are my friends, they're blowin' in the wind. It's fun, and even more when you see the handy guide she includes so you know "Oh, THAT'S what they said!"

The family gathering is not a new idea. It's been explored by some of the best: Chekhov, Lanford Wilson, August Wilson, Terrance McNally, and Lillian Hellman just to name a few. In this tale of a family sharing -- and often revealing -- their lives, we're brought in as eavesdroppers. Tom Rowan's mixture of old and young, straight and gay, liberal and conservative, you're bound to expect fireworks. But he handles it with a mastery of strong characters, all fully developed and all with a stake in the outcome. You may not like all of them, but you know them.

Is it a ghost story or is it the past returning to haunt Dan and Eric? They have a life together, a new baby, good friends who support them... and then moments of darkness creep in. Where are they coming from? The lost love, the pain of remembrance, or could it be something even deeper? Vince Gatton weaves a tale that is worthy of the best suspense tales in that he never lets us get ahead of the tale: we hang on every moment.

Donald E. Baker has crafted a taut, intense, and suspenseful tale of confrontation and confession. It is made all the more so by the seemingly casual nature of the confrontation between the abuser and the survivor. It is worthy of the comparison to Rod Serling's work in the intricate depiction of the memories and realities they both recall, almost as if there could have been something more than abuse. But, as we learn, that is how the manipulator weaves his web. The build-up to the end is a masterpiece of writing, suspense, and payoff. Stunning.

"It can't just be every soul for himself out here." When two men who shared two very different sides of war meet up in the middle of a Wisconsin winter, they discover truths about themselves and each other. Knight, a veteran of the war in Iraq, and Ahmad, an Iraqi transplanted to the Midwest, form a bond that seems improbable until Douglas Gearhart brings out more than just their own stories; he finds their souls. The characters are beautifully crafted, and there is so much richness in what they tell us. This is a story that needs to be told.

In the awkward moment of a first meeting, the tentative dance of what to say/not say is breathless, especially in out in the open where everyone passing by can see it. Sam Heyman's Chip and Brett are equally charming and sometimes klutzy. Knowing this is the first of a series makes it even more intriguing, and gives one hope that whatever road these two young men travel, it will be informing and endearing. (And it's nice to know that being a college freshman today isn't that much different than it was in 1971.)

I like baseball. I never played on a team; just pick-up games with friends and at school, and I never learned how to pitch. What I did learn and one reason I love the game is that it's not about raw athleticism like football or basketball; it is about teamwork and friendship. Cole Hunter Dzubak's team shows that the game isn't just about the fundamentals of throwing a curveball but making the connections that last long after the game is over. He places his story in the past, but it could be today or tomorrow. Batter up.

We collect things. Look around and you will see something that means nothing to someone else but has meaning. Perhaps it is a souvenir of a trip or something given to you by a relative from a trip they took, and with it come the memories of that trip or that person. Perhaps you wonder why they chose that piece; what did it mean to them? Why did they choose it for you? In this spare but powerful monologue that is part of a story, Andi connects with Frankie, long lost, but finds something worth holding and collecting: a life.

When I read the premise, I was going to say "what playwright hasn't had this happen to them in the middle of the night?" But Robert Weibezahl stays away from the tropes of arguing with yourself and really does get to what keeps writers staring at the ceiling wondering why IT'S JUST NOT WORKING? This short and very smart piece catches the essence of the simple fact that those of us who fear rejection and dread the fragility of creation are drawn inexorably to it. It is the curse -- but also the blessing -- of art.