How The Light Gets In
The playwright owned that this one was far from finished. And, yes, I can see that it needs to be shaped a bit more before it can be staged. But it was a good way to try out the dialog in front of an audience. And the dialog was remarkably funny, considering that the main protagonist had breast cancer.



Voodoo Snowball
The man at the door was startled when I gave my name, because it was the same as the playwright's. I rolled over all of my dad's relatives in my mind, to see if I could fit him in, but came up with nothing - going back to my great-grandfather, in Canada.
But, just to be sure, I studied his profile. He's got a prominent nose, but a straight one, without the crow's beak hook that gave my long-dead ancestor his name. So I doubt that we're related.
This one was standard fare about a dysfunctional family. And also not nearly done.
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