Recommended by Adam Richter

"It Couldn't Happen Here" is a terrific and frightening speculative play that in just four pages gives us a vivid, horrifying picture of a dystopian Britain in the not-too-distant future. If you think tribalism and sectarian, vigilante warfare are unique to poorer countries, Alice Josephs has a warning for you. This is a powerful piece that would captivate audiences in Zoom theater or on a live stage. Well done!

There is so much to explore in these three characters that would make "A Work of Art" a delight to stage. Abuela and Isabel are two strong-willed, determined women who bear the battle scars of a difficult life and are fighting for the future of the same man: Javier, Isabel's son and Abuela's grandson. Though the question at the center of this drama will sound familiar to any playwright, actor or other artist, T.L. Jacobson approaches it in a novel way that keeps the story fresh and the action lively. Bravo!

This is a sweet and laugh-out-loud comedy that would be perfect for any holiday-themed 10-minute play festival. The dialogue crackles and the relationships among the three characters are incredibly well-drawn. Bravo!

"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.