i am a storyteller.
a storyteller that seeks to take you on an adventure. a storyteller that seeks to create a path to another world. a storyteller that seeks to open your mind to endless possibilities. a storyteller that seeks to let you see the world for what it is, what it isn't, what it's been, what it could be, what it will be. a storyteller that seeks hope.
i write plays that explore the reality of queerness, stories that go much deeper than the tropes set by society. sometimes queer lives are elaborate and exciting, and sometimes, simple and unadorned. i want to offer a glimpse into the stories that explore and expose the reality of what it means to be queer and to live in this world, at this moment. my plays are expansive, but grounded in reality. they are always driven by rhythm. whether that be through music, dance, or the poetry of every day dialogue.
i write about people that i know, people that i don't know, people that i wish i knew, and people that i want to know. i write about love and relationships and connection and loss and heartbreak and childhood and nostalgia and generational divides and technology (or lack thereof). but what all of my plays have in common is an element of hope. hope that everything will be okay. hope for the future. and sometimes, that hope is hard. really fucking hard. when we feel lost or misguided, as i am witnessing more and more each day, the only way to find our way back to the surface is to have hope that it’s possible. to accept that it may be messy along the way, filled with bumps, curves, sharp turns, swerves.
but that we can, and will, stay alive. we can, and will, survive. we can, and will, thrive.
so let’s go on some adventures.