I'm a Seattle-based playwright and theatre artist. I hold an MFA in playwriting from Goddard College, a MA in Directing from NYU, and trained at the Atlantic Theater Company and the London Dramatic Academy. I've taught playwriting and acting in New York, Denver, and the Czech Republic and have performed on stages around the US. I was a 2019 recipient of the PEN Writing Scholarship, and my work can be read in The Pitkin Review.
Plays
A king is lonely and wanders through time and geography to find companionship. Plastic bottles fall from the sky from a time when we ignored the dangers of plastic pollution. Can the king find comfort in a world he may never understand?
26 characters are played by 11 actors in this tale that meanders through a land that always burns, a crooked house, a salt pan, and always and nowhere.
Enola feels like the loneliest girl in not only the universe, but the entire multiverse. She prays nightly to the stars that other versions of herself will find her. And one day, they do. But when the twin of one of her “copies” warns of an impending danger, Enola experiences the true brutality of loneliness: even surrounded by multiples of herself, she still must fight to be an individual.
This play-with-music imagines a brutal battle between the Sirens and the Muses from Greek mythology. All of the men have gone off to war, and the sudden reappearance of Alexander, the last man alive, brings with it a tragic accident. The young and nubile Muses vow to nurse him back to life, but the blind and withered Sirens sing their ancient songs and hunt down the Muses, systematically killing them one by one. The only character untouched by death is Festilia, the Muse of Comedy, who is left tied up and forgotten. The play ends with her cry to no one, “No, I’m the last muse alive! The Muse of Comedy! This isn’t funny anymore!”
Someone very important is coming to visit! Boo needs her family to be on their very best behavior. The more she readies the house, however, the more everything around her seems to fall apart. The children are off being horrible, crude, disgusting teenagers; and Buddy, her husband, has sheltered away in his office to work on a novel she suspects is simply filthy--and he won’t stop whispering "Kitty Kitty Kitty" under his breath. Boo’s frantic readiness whirls her into such a fuss that at times she simply freezes in place, unable to comprehend the grotesque family she’s grown around her.