Recommended by Jarred Corona

Sometimes you hear people talk about a novel being a page-turner. It's so fast-paced and intriguing with characters and a world that keeps you grabbing onto every detail. And it goes. And it goes. And then it's done, and you're filled with relief when you see it's part of a series, because surely you can't be done with this world. Chelsea Frandsen tells a complete story here, no doubt, but seeds sewn for the rest of the series filled me with joy. I'm excited to read the rest of the series and imagine the great action sets on stage. Brava.

One of life's hardest lessons is that sometimes love has nothing to do with the hard choices we have to make. Only, here, DC Cathro reminds us that love, really, is at the heart of those decisions too. It might just be a different form of love. How are you supposed to handle it when love causes you to walk away from a different sort of love? When it transforms that sort of love into a sort of hatred? When it still lingers... This is a heartbreaking short play. But in that, hope and love glitter like Christmas lights.

I am nothing if not a sucker for love. Flirting and compliments and forgiveness, those are the sorts of things that make my soul vibrate with the rhythmic pulse of the universe. It's easy to get consumed in anxiety. In fear built from past abandonment, past hurt. To allow our fears to hurt those we have feelings for. Feelings themselves can trigger all our fears. And here, here we have love and fear battling it out, hurting and fixing the wounds as they come. Communication is the key to get through it all. A lovely little play.

Have you ever read something and known, deep in your heart, that these people, wherever they exist in multiverse, are clearly and truly in love? You see their banter and you can feel them stirring in bed as an alarm goes off, groggy and bathed in early morning sun beams, tangled together, a little sweaty and gross. And they kiss each other. And so the days go. And so the hard times come. And the sadness and unfairness of their lives becomes all the more real for it. Sadder. Harder. And yet their love touches you. If not, read this.

If this were a scene in a Netflix high school romcom/dramedy movie or some sort, I'm fairly certain it would be a guilty favorite of mine that I'd force my friends to watch with me. It's sweet and awkward in all the best ways. If you can read this and not manage to smile, I don't quite think I'd want to know you as a person; you'd seem a little scary. Scott Mullen built great characters with depth and history in such a short passage of time. Truly a delight.

I read once that addiction is a ghost. And a different time that a ghost is a wish. And life itself is a decent teacher that a wish can be an addiction. We all long for something. To wish is to hope, often. I'm a bit addicted to hope myself. I cling to it. I understand Scott deeply. And I, too, wish for second chances. This is a charming play that takes such a heavy, addictive sadness and reminds us that wishes can and do come true. We can make wishes real. So keep wishing. Keep hoping. Well done.

In this musical with incredibly fun lyrics lies a scathing condemnation of our messed up criminal justice system here in America. How dare we take these free-spirited young people, these journeying romantics looking for meaning and love, and destroy them? Trans rights and acceptance have a long way to go until this world is a one we can label just. We must end our war on drugs. If I knew the way, I would take you home. I think Michelle serves as a challenge to us. It's past time we figure out the way.

I go on about this a lot, this weird little concept we call hope, but I think it's a beautiful thing. Here, in isolation and far from any idea of a perfect ending, Steven Hayet weaves hope. Being alone can be a horrible thing. Lonely. Mundane. Draining. Then comes connection. If we hold out hope through the darkness, a voice might sound out. We might find company. Love. Jokes and being heard and seen. Hell is other people, but so is Heaven. A grand piece.

In the Slush is a treat. It's the sort of show, as a director, I would fail to savor long enough before the run is done. As an actor, the kind to lose yourself in. As a reader or in the audience... Goodness. This is a show begging to be made. There are moments of violent horror that movie makers would salivate over. When your entire existence is upended and you find yourself biting at your maker, there's something feral about that. Funny. Terrifying and madness driving. Oh, how I loved this. Bravissimo, Daniel Prillaman. I can't wait to watch.

Look. I'm somewhat easily excitable when it comes to writing and theatre. I simply love it. So you might have to excuse the hyperbole, but Vince Gatton, in You Have Earned Bonus Stars... He's struck magic. Phenomenal dialogue flies from brilliant and messy characters. You smile and gasp and race with your heart. The rug is pulled. Magic is built in front of you. You gasp. You grin. You lean forward in anticipation. I've read and really enjoyed the companion anthology, but this stands on its own on a high podium. If I never see it, it'd be a shame.