Recommended by Doug DeVita

This is my life. I’m not saying which one of us snores, but I will say Vivian Lermond KNOWS whereof she speaks, with a humorously sharp scalpel.

Powerful and deeply felt, this monologue pretty much nails the inner thoughts most of us are having as we prepare to face another day of isolation, fear, and longing for a return to the old world. Beautifully done.

Exploring the trope that one man’s garbage is another man’s treasure, this touching monologue reminds us of all the unknown stories, memories, and history personal possessions hold. Simply, beautifully told, this monologue is itself something to be treasured.

Millions of years of male/female thought processes boiled down to one brilliantly succinct minute. Brava, Elisabeth!

Reflectively powerful, heartbreaking, and beautiful, D. Lee Miller's monologue is full of yearning, regret, and wisdom, and is a gift for an older actress.

The word "gingerbread" in and of itself is not a particularly funny word, nor would one ever suspect it to be. However, in this darkly comic gem, the word is used to howlingly killer effect, and topped only by the hilariously not-quite-innocent final line. Also in and of itself not particularly funny, but also howlingly killer.

This is a beautifully evocative story about love, loss, forgiveness and rejuvenation. Cosgrove creates a hauntingly specific world with her lyrically poetic use of language – a world that is both harsh and forgiving – and she peoples it with characters whose wants and needs are both intimately personal, and larger than life. A thoughtful, tender and heartbreaking play.

I love this piece; the real Fanny Brice shines through in every syllable, and a portrait of a very funny, deeply sad, and truly complex woman emerges – quickly, and beautifully.

Williams perfectly captures all the love, frustration, fascination – nay, obsession – writers have with the characters they create in this touching comedy. Mining his frequent theme of being haunted with his usual skill and depth, Williams' inner not-quite-monologue is a spot on conversation that nails everything there is to nail about life as a writer, but does it in a way that is universally recognizable to anyone even remotely human. A wonderful short play with two great roles, I'd love to see this staged, perhaps on a double bill with his equally wonderful full-length "Can't Live Without You."

This is a beautiful play; tender, touching and typically Sicklesian in its intimately epic scope and genuine feeling. A coruscating gem.