Recommended by John Busser

In two minutes, Vivian Lermond makes you want to see the last two years of the journey of old Geeky Gerry. Here we see the journey completed (up to this point, that is), but In listening to Mitch spin you Gerry's pre-transformation image, you are left longing to know what twists and turns Gerry took to be the man he is now. Everyone's life path has such twists, as Vivian makes clear. And in only 5 short paragraphs. That's amazing writing.

Kevin B proves that the real menace to any tourist beach town isn't the blood-thirsty man-eating killing machines in the water. It's the town council. In deliriously short-sighted fashion, the tourist planning committee makes it clear where their priorities lie. And while sharks may not have evolved in millions of years, we get to see that humans do... as they turn tragedy on it's ear and figure out a way to make a profit. We're gonna need a bigger budget.

Never judge a book by it's cover or a Krampus by it's... krampusing, I guess. Monica Cross shows us everyone has a public persona, and then there's the side they never show the public. And hilariously enough, it's one I never expected. I mean Krampus LOOOOOOOVES his job, right? (And c'mon, if YOU had HIS job, you'd secretly love it too) But here we see the softer, squishier side of this guy. And we love him all the more for it. Thanks for this Christmas present, Monica.

I certainly didn't see that wonderful twist coming. Wendy Vogel suckered me in to thinking this was going to be one type of interaction, one that we've all seen before, and upended my expectations in a way that delighted me to no end. I love this kind of misdirection (and I hesitate to tell you what that is. Experience it yourself) And I would love to see an audience react to this. Hopefully they will the same way I did. Fun and relatable to anyone who has a child, or heck, has BEEN a child.

A wonderful idea for a play. Showcasing the richness of a single character's life isn't an easy thing to do in most circumstances, mainly because we are almost always getting the character at their "present" state. Here, Arianna Rose cleverly allows us a tour of a lifetime of experiences, both good and bad, and the result is a telescopic view of an entire life. We see the roads taken, not taken, missed, and avoided but mostly we learn how the past journey informs the present. This is terrific character work and I would love to see her at 85. Beautiful.

As a fan of both Dickens and Seuss, I fell for this play by Hannah Lee DeFrates, hook, line and scrincher. Adding and subtracting where need be (extra spirits, no Tiny Tim analog), DeFrates moves through this retelling of A Christmas Carol by taking a slight detour through Whoville. The result is a whimsically fun, weirdly affecting and warmly uplifting piece that would be a welcome addition to any festival of holiday plays.

Darkly funny and oh-so-relatable. Those of us who hunt for the ever elusive submission opportunities have all encountered these "benevolent" theaters, always ready to liberate us from our money for the "privilege" of seeing our hard work done. Jennifer O'Grady has hit the target here. Playwrights (well, any artists really) sometimes get taken advantage of and we just as often acquiesce to get the work out there. This one hits close to home but it does so in such a funny way, that I don't mind taking the hit. Hilarious!

Being a cop is one of the hardest jobs around and nowhere does this prove out when a fellow officer whom you admire just may be guilty of a crime. Themes of loyalty and unspoken codes come into play here. Lydia Smoot keeps the pace moving even as the characters get more thrown in their way. Things escalate and an inevitable tragedy happens. I'd be curious to see where the characters go after this.

Some relationships grow. Toxic ones fester. Unfortunately for Peter, this is the latter. Here we meet an imprisoned Tinkerbell, who is not only incarcerated for crimes against Peter and Wendy, but trapped in a never ending cycle of resentment. She can't help but reject his overtures of friendship. But in a single moment, we are shown her fear when Peter says this is his last visit. She shows she DOES need Peter. Dana Hall gives a reality and relatable side to these two. Then the last line hits like a bombshell and we see that their reconciliation will never land.

"Tony" puts a mirror up to us, and it ain't pretty. This powerful monologue may seem like an exercise for a writer - anthropomorphize something and write about it - and it's true, it isn't possibly real and can be seen as such. But Chris Soucy never just writes as an exercise. He is SAYING SOMETHING HERE. This incredible creature, imprisoned for life for no reason than because people are rubberneckers who spend most of their lives watching things instead of experiencing, is right to be angry. Part of me wants to unlock his cage, then see what people do.