Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

This moment of memory is all too true and powerful for those of us who have been through it, but Ian Donley's well-crafted handling of it stays away from the mawkish and sentimental. It's not a ghost story; there's nothing unreal about a memory of a dead loved one dropping by to check in; it happens. Rather than make it all better, though, he leaves it as it should be: there will always be their presence.

This is slapstick with a savage and twisted outcome, but all in good fun. Not too many holds are barred, and even if you're squeamish about matter-of-fact discussion of blood and such, the farcical elements will make it all the more entertaining. The actors will get a thorough workout and get a chance to show their chops in more ways than one. Oolong tea, anyone?

Having worked on a production of "Hamlet" for a renown Shakespeare festival, I rejoice at Adam Richter's tale of palace intrigue, introspection, and the development of Claudius and Gertrude. In his vision and the faithful use of Shakespeare's language and rhythm, he explores the story beyond what we have heard for so long and gives us a possible motivation for their actions: was it greed and jealousy and lust, or was there a greater good at stake? This play could be performed as a prologue to a production of "Hamlet," but stand proudly on its own.

In the pressure cooker of high school, the rigid structure of peer pressure comes full force, it's hard to imagine anything more fraught with tension than winning a popularity contest. But that lesson in life started long before zits and Axe Body Spray, and Peter Fenton has created a world and a story that takes us from kindergarten to homecoming with deft telling and rapier-like wit, truly getting the voices and the tempers and the moments exactly on point. As one of them says, "You know what’s funny, though? We all got bigger. But nobody changed."

First loves are always the hardest, but they're also the most amazing because they are an unexplored country and every feeling is new and scary and thrilling. The way that Dylan Horowitz has written this enchanting short play, you feel every bit of those emotions as Ash and Eden step carefully into the new world. They're both vulnerable but brave, willing to explore, but scared of going too far from home. This is a gentle and heart-aching story, and I hope it gets seen.

The hardest part about writing a recommendation for a play about four men using urinals is trying not to throw out double entendres or just plain bathroom jokes. That said, Arthur M. Jolly takes this most male moment and turns it into a seminar on the human condition: psychological, philosophical, and even medical. This short piece may have elements of adolescent humor, but what it really gets to is the basic need for us to feel comfortable with what we have, and it is in our hands to live with.

The gentleness of this play makes it all the more poignant and deeply moving. The memories of Calvin and Mabel are permanently etched so that even the relentless progression of time does not diminish their meaning or what these two people mean to each other. Even the onset of the cruelty of forgetting doesn't take it away. Arthur M. Jolly's touch in creating powerful and lasting characters and moments is in full force here, and as someone who has been down this road, I am grateful to see how well he tells their story.

Jacquie Floyd's "Creak" does in one minute what some story-tellers can't summon up in a ninety-minute horror story. It also recognizes the fact that children are a lot smarter and wise than we give them credit for (which begs the question: at what point do adults lose that software?), and proves that the imagination is far more potent than all the special effects can muster. It's a smart and succinct tale of truth and brutal honesty.

There is something about the way Douglas Gearhart tells a story that captures your attention at the very first line and holds you through the whole play. In this case, the lives of four people are interlaced with delicacy yet not fragility; each word, each interaction carries us through the brutal moments that are often a part of this play. Yet I was never in doubt that even with the violence and carelessness that is implied, I never lost touch with the human frailty of each character. I would love to watch this play on stage.

I know that this play is pointed at playwrights and the agony of the submission process, but in a larger sense, Brenton Kniess has told a tale that many people beyond playwriting can not just understand, but feel in their tortured soul: job seekers, first dates, buying a new car, even adopting a pet. The hopes are tested to their limits, and while I'm sure they don't mean it, the Gatekeepers seem to find joy in their byzantine rules, caveats, and exclusions. (And don't get me started on "standard format.") Thank you, Brenton, for telling the truth.