Playwright

"Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?" -Oscar Wilde

Historically, when asked why I write, I would make grandiose, sweeping statements about abuse and recovery, hope and healing, diversity and equity, and those things are true. Those are applicable, accurate statements; but I never really answer the question. I am at a point in my career and my life where I can no longer afford to leave it unanswered, and if I were to say “I write for myself,” that's a half truth. Half truths and lies don't make real art. It might be good, but it's not true.

My art is a letter to my mother begging her to understand that she doesn't have to live a miserable, hateful life. I am from a time and place and family that would rather see me dead than free and I need my mother to know she isn't evil. The world that hurt her so badly that she feels justified-- entitled to hurt me emotionally, physically, sexually --laughing in the face of a little brown girl she calls her biggest mistake, that world isn't material. That's a world in her mind, a word she made tangible and raised into her house, my house, and I write to claw my way out of its cellar because I can't bear to live there anymore. I can't bear the weight of knowing that to save my mother, to hold her hand and redeem her step by bloody step would mean raising my own daughters in that same cage I cut my teeth. I write to tell her she can leave, too. I write to tell her she has a choice, it's possible. As long as she's living, it's not too late. Because I have daughters now. I am a mother and I see the shadows of her cruel decor on my walls and I am terrified that I will wake up and see her in the mirror, be worse than her because I know what it is to suffer at her hands and chose to be her anyway.

I have to live in a world, a time, a place where my mother can experience being human if she chooses, where the difference between tragedy and comedy are as simple as a choice, where love and hate are as simple as one decision that changes everything. The only way for that world to come to be is if I build it myself, and the only place with the scaffolding to cradle it is the stage.

The theater is real, a portal to better versions of the future, kinder versions of the past. The world of the stage is so unmistakably legitimate that its stories break down and restructure everything outside its doors. Discovery and evolution and innovation start there, when the lights come up, and it bleeds out and out into the audience and the audience takes it with them into their hearts and their homes and the place we call reality, for good or for ill. So I write. Because theatre taught me to be human. The kind that feels and uses the feeling to act with intention. The kind that sees pain and knows it hurts. The kind that longs to redeem genuinely one of the worst people I've ever met in the flesh, and knows no amount of labor or longsuffering will ever be enough to earn the apology that would enable me to embrace her one more time.

If theatre can teach me at its knee, make me a child again and mold me into who I should have been, give me the tools to carve away my jagged edges, put that infamous societal mirror to my face and show me that I am whole, if theatre can make me believe it, then I know there is a world where my mother can too. A world where she can echo these words to her own mother, a world where my grandmother can reach beyond the veil of death and take the hand of hers, where we can reunite the chain of women hurting each other until Eve and Lilith meet in love rather than competition and finally, with the heaving sigh of Gaia, say, “I know, I love you, I'm sorry.”

I write so that when I fall short-- and I will --when I disappoint them, hurt them, fail to apologize, my daughters can hold me accountable to the truth I spoke in the sacred place that is the stage, temple of womankind. So they never forget that there is a better way. As terrible as she is, my mother made me, and I know that I am good. If I am not good, I am trying my best, and if my best is not enough, I'm sorry. I know, I love you, I'm sorry.

And these words will bleed out and out into the audience and the audience will take them with them into their hearts and their homes and the place we call reality, for good or for ill.

Playwright

Literary Manager

Poet's Star Theatre Company

Artist Panel Reader

Jewish Play Project (JPP)

Writers' Room

Writers, Dramaturgs, Actors Workshop (WDA), Brigham Young University

Screenwriter

Freelance Contracting, Online

47th Bay Area Play Festival Semi-Finalist 2026

Best Play Overall 2023; Vera Hinkley Mayhew Contest

Outstanding Playwright 2022; BYU Theatre and Media Arts College

Best Working Playwright 2020; Vera Hinkley Mayhew Contest

Microburst Playwriting Showcase 2019

Hard to Be Won: A Theatrical Interpretation of Elizabeth Keckly's "Behind the Scenes: or Thirty Years a Slave and Four Years in the White House”

Scholars' Archive Publication

Brigham Young University

2023; Provo, UT

A Dozen Roses: A Modern Gothic

Full-Length

2026; Wasatch Theatre Company, Salt Lake City, UT

Review (Front Row Reviewers)

Review (Utah Theatre Bloggers)

A Danish Night's Dream

10 Ten-Minute; FYA

2025; Tetonia Community Theater, Tetonia, ID

MacBeth the Outlaw

10 Ten-Minute; FYA

2025; Tetonia Community Theater, Tetonia, ID

Children of War

Full-Length

2025; The Hive Collaborative, Provo, UT

Review (Utah Theatre Bloggers)

The People

One-Act

2023; Corral de La Cruz Theatre, Provo, UT

Hard to Be Won: The Making Of

Short Film

2022; Corral de La Cruz Theatre, Provo, UT

Benthos

One-Act

2020; Writers, Actors, Dramaturgs (WDA) Concert, Provo, UT

The Volunteer State

Full-Length

2019; Provo, UT

Haven Spelled Wrong

Ten-Minute

2017; Microburst Play Festival, Provo, UT

A Dozen Roses: A Modern Gothic

Full-Length; a satire. Eric, an immortal vampire, hunts down the reincarnation of his dead wife, Rose, throughout generations of time. Every time things go wrong, he just waits out Rose's lifetime and starts fresh with a new one. As their relationship devolves over the generations, Eric begins to wonder if there is such a thing as a clean slate.

Art is Isaac

Full-Length; drama. In the year of our Lord 2023, Ari, Nora, and Luther share an LA apartment. They have a groove: Luther cooks and cleans, Nora pays for everything, and Ari paints. When Luther starts pressuring Ari for a more committed relationship, however, the already tenuous balance begins to sway and crumble. Art is Isaac is a rolling conversation about a Jew, a (ex?) Mormon, and a Baptist navigating what it means to be "a true artist". Can one profess to be a disciple of traditional religion when art is God? If you worship art as a true devotee, is there room for community? Relationships? Stability? And if you're not an artist after a lifetime of sacrifices in the name of the craft, who are you? A theological drama over the backdrop of a messy, heathen queer platonic nightmare.

Children of War

Full-Length; tragedy. Three unlikely heroes find themselves at the center of the 700 BC Olympic games, and the godly plot at work in Olympus. Calista, daughter of Ares, has a glorious future ahead of her-- that is, if she can avoid the prophecy foretelling her doom. Archaeon, the captain of the guard, harbors traitorous desires against his king. Prince Teleion, Apollo's seer, tries desperately to save those whose stubbornness would condemn them all. Is there such a thing as a happily ever after in times such as these? An homage to classic theatre styles, including Greek tragedy and Shakespeare, that tackles modern questions of what children owe their parents, what it means to choose fate, and whether love really is enough in the end.

My House

Full-Length; drama. Woman has built a ramshackle village in her mind filled with empty houses, the streets littered with wandering maternal figures from her life. All is well until a Stranger enters, the Woman's true mother, and she's brought luggage with the intent of making Woman's mind her home. A daughter grapples with an obsession over generational trauma and accountability; a view of motherhood from the receiving end.

The People

One-Act; experimental. An whimsical fantasy play spoken in verse, with music. In a world freshly made by a Father God, Elementals rule the Earth. Everyone has a purpose and a job and is happy doing it, until a stranger appears: Pain, a daughter of Mother God, Death. The Elementals take Pain on a journey to find out what her purpose is in the world. A brave, engaging discussion about womanhood and religion.

Hard to Be Won: A New Musical

Full-Length; drama. The untold story of professor, socialite, business owner, confidante, philanthropist, former slave Elizabeth Keckly, and the emotional affair that could have rewritten the outcome of the American Civil War. A revisionist history of the presidency of Abraham Lincoln, based on Elizabeth Keckly's infamous memoir, "Behind the Scenes, or Thirty Years a Slave and Four Years in the White House".

Benthos

One-Act; horror. Marcail, a selkie turned human, tries to escape her inevitable fate of returning to the sea and forgetting her mortal life. Her creator has other ideas. A horror fantasy play set in Scotland.

The Volunteer State

Full-Length; drama. When Paul returns home to the family diner with a new girl in tow, the whole family is thrown into unheaval. A family-friendly comedy about community, in a Southern 1950's setting.

Haven Spelled Wrong

Ten-Minute; drama. Teenage boy, Harmon, struggles to keep order when his younger brother threatens suicide. A drama about the meaning of family.

Director

Actor