Recommended by Christopher Soucy

Suck on it, Orwell! Emily McClain brought the big guns! So many wonderful allegorical paths to take with this short play. Whether relating personally, publicly, locally or nationally, this play is applicable to all. And somewhere in the recesses of the text is where we all stand, Judas, sheep, or ass - we’re all represented here.

Ah, the splintered existence of the creator. We shatter ourselves into all the pieces we put together for our work. Sam has delivered a pep talk for the ages. Voices that should ring out. For each doubt, there needs to be a reassuring voice. Thanks for bringing the trials of playwriting with hope to light!

This is absolutely brilliant. The amazing construction of this poetic musing on Moliere and the sexual politics of polyamorous relationships just hits all the right buttons. Jillian has entered into a sublime zone where the dialogue is both natural and highly structured. A truly epic work! Brava!

Knocked the breath right out of me. And a few tears as well. There is a neverending depth to the grief portrayed here. Deb snuck an intense interaction right under my nose with casual, natural dialogue. Before I knew it, I was breathless. Amazing.

What a twisted version of beloved childhood characters The Hundred Acre War was. this follow up is incredible!! A chilling examination at the horrors of war and the advances of science that stem from dark places.

Beautifully articulated. Heartbreaking and love affirming. This is art about the purpose of art. Finding a truth and telling it with love.

Deb meets the challenge dead on. And it’s great! The Greeks had the 5 ages of men, well Deb gives us the four ages of women -sorry, humans- and it is a testimony to the ravages of hormones upon our fragile biological ecosystem. So much fun!

Pitch perfect. A true domestic thriller. Debra has so skillfully wrapped a morality tale in a trials of modern life story. I truly appreciate how intimate the scene work in them play is. Congrats, Deb, on a lovely short play.

Powerful indictment of the allure of anonymity and the toxicity of masculine privilege. Sam Heyman has written a thoughtful treatise on what it means to be a member of a community that, for all of its good points, fails to rise to the occasion. This is a monologue to chew on and should be produced everywhere.

The struggle is real! I have slowly conditioned myself into a weird sort of self reliance that makes me hesitant to work with anyone… Sam has captured the path to that lonely creator status. Painful and hopeful, this piece speaks to anyone who has relied upon, and been let down by, other artists.