I spent election night 2016 in New York City, working a catering gig: the pre-victory cocktail party for Hillary Clinton’s campaign staff. I watched guests on cloud nine turn dead silent. They left the building like folks at a funeral, because, well…they were.

The next morning, I was a sad, millennial mess. "What can I do?!" I asked an empty apartment.

"Jesus works at Arby’s," my brain replied.

This odd conversation sparked a lifelong love of playwriting. It became a play about post-traumatic-church-syndrome and helicopter parenting. It didn’t change the incoming President, but it helped me process thirteen years of Catholic school.

I moved home, to the Philadelphia area, on April 1st, 2017. No fool’s joke. Over time, I discovered that my mood, happiness, overall quality of life suffered if I stopped writing. An ache formed in my stomach. Emotional blockage: the result of being raised to avoid feelings. So, I decided to wake up every day, 5am, and turn blockage into scripts. This led to studying at PlayPenn, where I learned to write more than just the wise-cracking characters who had become my habit. In addition to technique and craft, my teachers challenged me to consider WHY I write plays.

I write about people who don’t want to be alone. I feel less alone when I write. What I was "supposed" to find in Church, I found in Theatre: community, acceptance, and peace. I want to share that discovery with others, especially folks with religion-angst.

Writing plays is therapeutic. I would wager the same is true for watching plays. In fact, I know it’s true. If an audience’s blood pressure, empathy, brain activity, and whatever mumbo-jumbo a REAL doctor would suggest were measured, the data would prove that theatre is medicine.

Imagine $20.00 co-pays to see "The Ferryman" instead of $300.00 tickets.

Less pressure to produce plays that will "sell."

Groovy.