I have always been drawn to the universal— seeking to more fully understand the underlying principles active in nature, and how these principles affect us as human beings. After all, what exactly is it that we all have in common AND what, of this, might we focus on in order to live more fulfilling lives together?

I think we all have some sense of the universal, and yet finding a connection with it can have a tendency to threaten the ideas we carry about who we are. In fact, I am fascinated with the battle that goes on between our attraction (on one hand) to becoming more whole, and our resistance (on the other hand) to giving up whatever stands in the way of that becoming (our consciously created identities). When I witness those who meet this challenge and consequently express a greater level of personal truth in their lives, it restores my faith in humanity and in nature. These are the people I want to put on the stage.

I love watching characters squirm and bolster themselves in the process of learning that they are far more than what they had previously believed themselves to be. I find joy in witnessing circumstances inevitably tear them away from limited views and challenge them to accept more inclusive ones, whether those views involved gender, nationality, culture, beliefs or any other areas of experience that we find ourselves clinging to out of fear.

One of the first playwrights I fell in love with was George Feydeau. I love a good farce, especially the heightened fervor and confusion when human beings are made behaviorally ridiculous by their fears and desires. I see so much of this in day-to-day life. It seems so many of us are desperately seeking some workable sense of meaning in our lives and this pushes us to extremes. Reflecting this ongoing struggle with a mix of humor and compassion is one of my goals as a playwright.

In regard to style, I have a deep appreciation for and am compelled to write in the naturalistic vein, and yet I also have a real obsession with the play gone wrong, the play within a play and for how convention might be twisted or tweaked to emphasize a particular perspective on the subject at hand. I believe that by coming at life from these various angles we can draw attention to the hub at the core and center— the heart of things (source).

In all of my plays, I would like there to be the sense that what creates conflict is primarily a lack of understanding— that no character is fundamentally evil, but instead struggling with some deep and perhaps unconscious fears. Hence, a tragedy is a story that ends with one continuing in fear, while a comedy is a story that ends with one beginning to take responsibility for that fear. First and foremost, however, I’d like my plays to be entertaining— entertaining and end with much resolve. Yes. That!