I try to write plays that can only be plays. Plays that experiment with narrative and form, that embrace the unexpected, that give us something we can't get at home watching Netflix in our pajamas.

I try to infuse my plays with magic. To create fantasy worlds in which anything can happen: mannequins can come to life, humans can live underwater, star-crossed lovers can literally wrestle with their own poetic demons.

I try to seek out stories that don't often get told—about complicated women, voiceless communities, historical events that have been mostly forgotten.

But above all else, I try to ground my plays in empathy. To embrace the smallest, most intimate of human moments—the kind that can only be shared by people breathing in the same dark space. That connection, to me, is when a play feels most alive.