Recommended by Toby Malone

Sometimes setting is everything. Taking the deceptively simple but highly evocative setting of a viewing gallery at a prison's lethal injection room, Ryan Kaminski lets the mood of place lay a bedrock of tone that doesn't let up throughout. By placing two unnamed characters alongside one another who share the anguish of loss, Ryan successfully releases the potential in his setting. Nice work.

A beautifully crafted two-hander that takes us on a ride as we learn the reasons for Paul's fretting energy directed at the much more relaxed Mike: there's a terrific give and take here where Marchant does not show us all her cards but very carefully lays out the ones we need to see as the picture slots into place. Even the title gives us a sense of where we're going, and then deftly takes us somewhere else. A really nice scene study.

I nearly never note in recommendations that I've worked on a script, but this one has to be the exception, because I'm so damn proud of TJ Young and what he achieved with 'The Inseparables'. As TJ's dramaturg, I stood by in wonder as he transformed Dumas' turgid 800-page novel into a joyous romp that is both reverential and entirely original, an ensemble piece that is as much a love letter to theatre as the source material. Pittsburgh Public's staged reading was a joy: but even better will be when this is able to premiere live. I can't wait.

A beautiful, aching, haunting piece that uses time and regret and hope and loss to weave a stunning story that never condescends to us or explains too much. This is a piece where we are allowed to hope against hope that magic is real, even though we know that it's likely nothing but hope that lets that prevail. Heartfelt and affecting, this would be a beautiful showcase for young actors in a tour de force story opportunity. I would love to see this staged, either as described or very, very simply. Wonderful.

It's so depressing that you get one line into Greg Lam's needful short play and you know exactly how it's going to end, because the story is so familiar that we are becoming numb to it. At this time in history, allies are needed more than ever as entitlement and media excuses for horrific events (assuming the perpetrator is a white man) embolden monsters to play out their hatred on an entire group in their society. This play is shocking in its relevance and is a punch in the nose to the complacent. Like I say: depressing in its truth.

TJ Young is fast becoming a master of the domestic tragedy, an artist who sees the bonds that bind and tear at a family over the tiniest (and by extension hugest) incidents, with a beautiful ear for dialogue and an aching, pulsating heart that somehow lends both a sense of futility and hope. This beautiful 10 minute 2-hander presses on the horrific legal obligations that are necessary after a loved one's death, made all the more difficult when the family are divided by greed, accusation, and veiled homophobia. An aching, heartbreaking piece that says so much more than is written.

A delightful 10-minute romp exploring an irresistible concept: what would happen if, on the most recent episode of David Tennant's podcast, he hosts THE William Shakespeare? And what if that Shakespeare (sorry, I mean William Shakespeare) were entirely unaware of the modern world, including technology, casting, or theatre companies named after him? A zippy, quippy piece that skewers the idea of elevating these plays when, as Tennant notes, they have taken on a whole new meaning to us today. Plenty of fun.

A brilliantly snappy situational piece from Jordan Ford that uses the backdrop of Hurricane Sandy to bottle two strangers for long enough for them to impact one anothers' lives. The characters are specific, vibrant, and human, with major flaws and admirable integrity, and it's beautiful to see Jack grow over the course of this chance encounter.

Hilary Bluestein-Lyons makes a smart choice here, filtering Angela's story of discovering she has a long-lost sister through the lens of a Tik-Tok video, something that is both emblematic of our current situation and builds in an automatic time-limit for each segment. What would have been interesting before is now infused with the vanity, the self-effacing humor, the casualness of confessing to strangers. This story, grounded in trauma, comes across in a light and dismissive fashion, but there's an undercurrent that would be a great challenge for any actor taking this on.

I kept seeing this monologue pop up on the front page so I decided it was time to check it out - it's highly praised for good reason. This is an introspective, honest piece with a nice sense of humor, and the casting directive that Matthew is played by a woman is a wrinkle that brings really fun texture to the work. A nicely self-aware piece.