Recommended by Adam Richter

"Your Gaze," for all its brevity, shows us a great deal about the ADHD mind and the challenges of constantly dealing with emotions that "go to eleven." Heartbreaking and beautiful — as are so many of Scott Sickles' plays — this monologue about self-esteem and neurodiversity captures all the challenges of loving oneself. I keep coming back to the phrase "tundra of your gazelessness." Fantastic!

This is a powerful, dramatic and emotionally wrenching monologue to read — which is nothing compared to what it must be to live through. August Forman writes about their experience in a touching and inclusive way, but it should also make the audience angry: angry at the bigots and small-minded hate-mongers who can't just leave others the fuck alone and let them be themselves.
"I Can't Ride Trains Anymore" ought to be staged everywhere. Well done.

You don't want unlimited bread. No matter how tempting the offer sounds, you don't want it. Daniel Prillaman, in his dark witty genius, shows us what a Faustian bargain it is to go for the "unlimited" anything deal. By turns horrifying, funny and oddly sweet, "For A Limited Time Only" takes a seemingly benign concept and shows us what could go wrong in a fantastic and highly theatrical way. This should be produced everywhere!

Amateur musicians, I suspect, have long felt that they play badly because their instruments won't cooperate. NOW WE HAVE PROOF! In Larry Rinkel's funny, short play, we finally get to hear the piano's side. It's no spoiler to say that you should not treat your piano like a piece of furniture, but watching Jake's journey to revelation is a comic delight.

Jack Levine's holiday monologue is an absolute delight, nailing (and skewering) the persona of the perpetual optimist who refuses to let a fire, a hospitalized husband or a friend's bad fall on the ice dampen her holiday spirit. The main character — who would be a fun role for any actress — talks so much you'd think she's terrified of silence, and I wonder if Harold didn't get stuck in the chimney as he was trying to escape a conversation. Brilliant work again, Jack!

Plays this dark should not make you laugh out loud. But Daniel Prillaman's one-minute play is a macabre delight that comes with an important lesson: It's never too late to correct your mistakes.

People who live their lives with hate need to be understood — that is not to say they require our empathy, however. Philip Middleton Williams delivers a fantastic and enraging monologue that gives us the former without asking the latter. We have a long way to go before the hateful views of the Larrys are extinguished. His happiness is tied to other people not having what he does, and that's just pathetic. Middleton Williams' monologue accomplishes a lot in a few words, giving us a portrait that is insightful and unsympathetic.

A powerful, perfectly staged one-minute play about unrequited love. Steve Martin once again shows why he's a master of the one-minute play, doing so much in so little time. Your heart will break for these characters.

In less than half a page, John Mabey gives us a richly realized character in Jules, whose warmth, wit and hurt come through in every word of this brief but powerful monologue. The final line cuts with razor-sharp precision.

The bonds of family may be strong, but Philip Middleton Williams puts them through the ringer in "The Sugar Ridge Rag," a powerful play about the toll that war takes on families, even when no one is killed. The Grangers are a loving family who get tested by the Vietnam War and the choices each twin makes in response to it.
Each war leaves scars on the current and succeeding generations, and "The Sugar Ridge Rag" explores those scars brilliantly. This should be staged everywhere.