• Vlog: Recap: TOUCH and Attending a Performance

    I got to watch people performing my play! I still can’t believe that happened, y’all. You should also watch this video if you either a) haven’t read my play or b) don’t know what it’s about.


    Have you read or seen Touch? What did you think?

    Tweet tweet:

    Author and playwright @brimorganbooks got to see her play performed, and she had a lot of feelings. (Click to tweet)

  • TOUCH is Now Available in Paperback!

    TOUCH is Now Available in Paperback!I can’t remember when I started writing this play, but I think the first draft of it popped up about a year ago. I feel like I’ve been working on it forever, but it’s only recently that I’ve revised it and polished it to make it a marketable product. After weeks and months of blood, sweat, tears, coffee, and wine, it’s finally here! All my hard work is paying off in a very tangible way. I can’t believe it.
    Today, my book Touch: A One-Act Play is available in paperback! You can buy it on Amazon here, or for the same price, you can order a signed copy directly from me (I’ll be updating the book page on my blog soon, but if you want a copy that’s signed, all you have to do is comment below with your email, send me a message through this contact form, or get in touch on Twitter and we can discuss the details).

    If you prefer an ebook version, that’s available for purchase here. You can also add it to your Goodreads TBR list here. Want a sample of the play? You can read that here.

    If you read the play, I’d thoroughly appreciate it if you could leave me a review. Ratings and reviews keep indie authors like me alive. It doesn’t have to be anything major–even something as simple as “I liked this book” or “Plays are yucky so booo” would help me immensely (though, admittedly, the latter review isn’t all that useful to anyone).

    I’m also working on getting this play produced as an audiobook, so stay tuned for updates on that. In the meantime, thanks to each and every one of you that buys the book and continues to support and encourage me with kind words, thoughts, and prayers. I appreciate all of you more than you know.

    What do you think? Have you read Touch?

    Tweet tweet:

    Have you heard? @brianawrites’ TOUCH: A ONE-ACT PLAY is now available in paperback! (Click to tweet)

  • TOUCH Act I, Scene 5


    (Lights up on the alley. The DEALER is perched on the dumpster again, unaffected by the rain. He is whistling an upbeat tune in spite of the weather. The SEEKER enters, toting an umbrella. She is anxious. He notices her right away and jumps down from the dumpster.)

    DEALER: What have we here? Back so soon?

    SEEKER: Just following up on that rain check. Do you remember me?

    DEALER: Oh, yes. I do. So… What can I do for you?

    SEEKER: I’m not sure. I mean, I have an idea, but I’m open to suggestions.

    DEALER: If you’d rather not do this out in the streets–

    SEEKER: Do I have a choice?

    DEALER: You always have a choice. (He takes a step toward the SEEKER. She steps closer to him and holds her umbrella over both of them.) We can go to my place. (He takes the umbrella from her and puts his arm around her. She flinches.) It’s all right. I didn’t mean anything by it. Relax.

    SEEKER: (She lets him put his arm around her) I haven’t paid you yet.

    DEALER: I told you, sweetheart, first one’s free. (They start to exit. The CURED enters. The DEALER drops his arm and breaks away from the SEEKER.)

    CURED: What are you doing?

    DEALER: The young lady was lost. I was giving her directions.

    SEEKER: (To the DEALER) Forget it. She’s my mother. (To the CURED) How did you find me?

    CURED: I read your diary. I didn’t want to, but I was worried. I paced back and forth in the living room for fifteen minutes trying to resist the temptation to snoop. But then I thought about those girls from your school who got arrested. I remembered what I was like at your age. I thought about my affair, the arrest, the trial, prison, rehab–I had to come after you. I needed to rescue you. So I read your diary. (She looks at the DEALER.) Have you done anything?

    DEALER: No, not yet.

    CURED: What do you mean, not yet?

    DEALER: I mean we haven’t gotten to it. We were interrupted.

    CURED: You mean you’re in the process?

    DEALER: Exactly.

    CURED: Has she paid you yet?

    DEALER: No.

    CURED: Thank God.

    DEALER: She doesn’t have to. Pay, I mean. She can thank God if she wants to. That’s her decision. (He winks at the SEEKER. The CURED bristles.)

    CURED: Forget whatever arrangement you have. There isn’t going to be any transaction.

    SEEKER: You don’t have any say in this.

    CURED: You’re kidding me, right? I’m your mother. I gave birth to you. You’re a minor living under my roof, and if you don’t want to face some serious consequences–

    SEEKER: The most you can do is ground me.

    CURED: No, the least I can do is ground you. The most I can do is turn you in to the police. (The tension between mother and daughter is palpable. It’s palpable and thick. It is clear that the CURED has gone too far, said the unthinkable. The relationship between the two of them will never be the same. The CURED senses this and, terrified, tries to backpedal.) Oh, honey, no. Non no no. I didn’t mean that. I would never. (The SEEKER, determined, wanders over to the DEALER, slips her arm through his, and rests her head on his shoulder.)

    SEEKER: Go home, Mother.

    CURED: (Taken aback) You know I only want what’s best for you.

    SEEKER: Maybe this is best for me. Maybe I need to see what it’s like for myself. Maybe it’s not enough to hear all the reasons why I shouldn’t without learning if I should. (Pause.) Maybe you should head back before somebody sees you. Don’t want to violate parole. (The CURED stares at her daughter, almost looking right through her. She reacts as though she had been slapped, staggering backward, pausing, and trying to collect herself. Then, having come to terms with what she is about to do, she pivots on her heel and exits. The DEALER puts his arms around the SEEKER and she leans in. He kisses her. Lights fade as they kiss and thunder rumbles overhead.)

    To Be Continued…


    Thanks for reading my work!

    Come back tomorrow for another installment of Touch, which I’m updating every weekday, and make sure you’re following along with the blog and on Twitter so you don’t miss an update!

    If you enjoy my writing, consider reading my novel Blood and Water–you can read more about it here.

    -Briana Morgan

  • TOUCH Act I, Scene 2

    act1scene2 (1)

    (Lights up on a dark street. The SEEKER sits on a bench, waiting for the bus. An ADDICT wanders onstage, groping along a wall. She is blind. She runs into the bench. The SEEKER laughs and covers it with a cough.)

    ADDICT: Who’s there?

    SEEKER: (Anxious) No one. I’m waiting for the bus.

    ADDICT: I’d like to catch the bus as well. (She feels along the top of the bench then down to the seat, finding it empty.) Do you mind if I sit?

    SEEKER: No. Go ahead.

    (The ADDICT sits a little too close to the SEEKER. She scoots over. The ADDICT follows her lead until they’re touching. The SEEKER leaps up, horrified.)

    SEEKER (CONTINUED): What do you think you’re doing?

    ADDICT: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you sit back down? (She stretches her hand toward the SEEKER, who shies away from the contact.) What’s wrong? Is there a policeman around?

    SEEKER: That doesn’t matter.

    ADDICT: Do you see a policeman?

    SEEKER: No.

    ADDICT: All right. (She scoots. The SEEKER eyes her warily before sitting down. The ADDICT sits with her hands in her lap, humming. The SEEKER stares straight ahead, obviously unnerved by their interaction. The bus pulls up, engine humming. The SEEKER stands. The ADDICT scrambles to her feet, loses her balance, and grabs the SEEKER’s arm to steady herself. The SEEKER supports her. The two of them freeze.) Thank you.

    SEEKER: You’re welcome. (She steps away from the ADDICT and watches her get onto the bus. She decides not to get on. The ADDICT gets off the bus.) What’s going on?

    ADDICT: I changed my mind. I think I’ll walk. Want to walk with me?

    SEEKER: (Beat) Okay.

    ADDICT: Don’t let me run into anything.

    SEEKER: I’ll try not to.

    (The ADDICT takes her arm. She is startled but does not resist.)

    ADDICT: We should go to East Street.

    SEEKER: Why? What’s on East Street?

    ADDICT: Let’s just say there’s someone I think you should meet.

    (Lights fade as they exit, the SEEKER leading the ADDICT.)

    To Be Continued…


    Thanks for reading my work!

    Come back tomorrow for another installment of Touch, which I’m updating every weekday, and make sure you’re following along with the blog and on Twitter so you don’t miss an update!

    If you enjoy my writing, consider reading my novel Blood and Water–you can read more about it here.

    -Briana Morgan

  • TOUCH Act I, Scene 1

    TOUCH: A Play in Two Acts

    (Open on a woman, the SEEKER, sitting on a bed, looking embarrassed. Another woman, the CURED, her caregiver, reads from a diary. As she speaks, the SEEKER hangs her head in shame.)

    CURED: (Reading aloud) “I’ve never been hugged before. I don’t know anyone who has. For as long as I can remember, the world has been full of people shying away from physical contact. There are no accidental touches without immediate apology, shame, and a little bit of fear. I wonder if life has always been this way. I wonder if the history of the human race is nothing but a list of ‘thou shalt not’s scribbled onto massive stone tablets. Did people ever touch? Maybe even on purpose? I wish I knew. I’d like to know. Even if I never get to touch someone myself, I think I could be happy just knowing that somewhere, long ago, someone else had been touched. (She slams the diary shut and tosses it onto the bed.) Well, young lady? What do you have to say for yourself?

    SEEKER: I didn’t mean anything by it.

    CURED: Then why did you write it?

    SEEKER: I don’t know.

    CURED: You don’t know?

    SEEKER: That was meant to be private. (The CURED stares at her sternly without saying another word.) It’s my diary, all right? No one would have read it.

    CURED: I found it.

    SEEKER: That’s different. You know what I mean.

    CURED: Honestly, after everything I’ve been through… what were you thinking writing something like that? You know what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands.

    SEEKER: Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.

    CURED: You’re acting like one.

    SEEKER: (Sighing) I had a lot on my mind the other night. I couldn’t sleep because my thoughts were driving me crazy. One of the girls at school said writing in a diary can help–

    CURED: What girl at school?

    SEEKER: Why does it matter?

    CURED: Three of your classmates were arrested last week. How can you be so blind?

    SEEKER: I’m not blind, Mother. I just choose not to see.

    CURED: I don’t see the difference.

    SEEKER: The difference is choice. (Beat) Those arrests were awful. They pulled the girls out of class and handcuffed them in the hallway. One of the other students fainted. I wanted to cry. (Pause) I’m sorry you think I’m stupid. I’m not stupid at all. I can’t help noticing what’s going on around me and I need some way to cope. The diary isn’t hurting anyone. I think I should be allowed to keep it.

    CURED: You can’t keep it.

    SEEKER: Why not?

    CURED: We’ve been over this. Too dangerous.

    SEEKER: I keep it in the house. No one besides you and I has ever seen it.

    CURED: That doesn’t mean they never will. (She sits down beside THE SEEKER) It all starts with thinking. Then writing. Then the next thing you know, you’re embracing a hug dealer and trying to explain to the police that you stumbled and he caught you–which, by the way, did not work for me.

    SEEKER: Mother, that won’t happen.

    CURED: You don’t know that.

    SEEKER: I’m not you. (She picks up the diary and holds it against her chest) I want to meet my donor.

    CURED: You know that isn’t possible.

    SEEKER: Doesn’t City Hall keep records?

    CURED: I don’t even know who your donor is. It could be anyone. (Beat) If you’re not going to give me the diary, at least stop writing in it. Maybe tear out that last entry. I want to keep you safe.

    SEEKER: I’m sorry. (She gets up from the bed and crosses to the door. The CURED stands.)

    CURED: Where are you going?

    SEEKER: Out.

    (Lights fade as the SEEKER exits, leaving the CURED alone.)

    To Be Continued…

    TOUCH: A Play in Two Acts

    Thanks for reading my work!

    Come back tomorrow for another installment of Touch, which I’m updating every weekday, and make sure you’re following along with the blog and on Twitter so you don’t miss an update!

    If you enjoy my writing, consider reading my novel Blood and Water–you can read more about it here.

    -Briana Morgan

  • Cover Reveal: TOUCH

    There’s a lot going on in my life right now. I’ve been living in my new house for a month, I just got back from Chicago, I’m working on finishing the first draft of Reflections as fast as I possibly can, I did a photoshoot last week, I’m booking editing clients for March and April already–basically, I’m busy, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone.
    I’m doing what I love and I couldn’t be more pleased.

    While I was in Chicago last week, I had the opportunity to see two excellent plays, Cocked and Cabaret. These productions entertained me, made me think, and rekindled my love for theatre (not that it had been dormant or anything, as you can attest to if you’ve seen my Hamilton fangirling). More importantly, they made me realize how much I want to see my play Touch (which you can read for free here) produced someday. Of course, the next step is getting it published.

    I’m tweaking the play again to make sure it’s how I like it. I’ve also gone ahead and created a new cover for it, which I’m thrilled to share with all of you today. It’s not as exciting as a novel, but it’s still pretty big, yeah? Keep scrolling to check it out!


    Cover Reveal: TOUCH

    I still can’t believe I designed this bad boy myself. Actually, I can’t believe I designed it myself and am happy with the results. It took a lot of time for me to find something I felt reflected (there’s that word again) the overall tone of the play, and I think I found a winner. If you’ve read the play already, you’ll definitely have to let me know if you agree.

    As I’m still revising the play (again), I don’t have a full-fledged synopsis for you yet. Nevertheless, here’s the tagline:

    In a world in which physical touch is illegal, one young woman seeks to discover what all the fuss is bout.

    It’s mostly just a premise, but I hope to have an eloquent, in-depth synopsis out with the polished product. Here’s a little excerpt to tide you over if you want to wait to read the whole play until it’s been published:

    CURED: You can’t keep it.

    SEEKER: Why not?

    CURED: We’ve been over this. Too dangerous.

    SEEKER: I keep it in the house. No one besides you and me has ever seen it.

    CURED: That doesn’t mean they never will. [She sits down beside the SEEKER.]It all starts with thinking. Then writing. Then the next thing you know, you’re embracing a hug dealer and trying to explain to the police that you stumbled and he caught you–which, by the way, did not work for me.

    SEEKER: Mother, that won’t happen.

    CURED: You don’t know that.

    SEEKER: I’m not you.

    So, yes! Big things are happening every day over here! In the coming months, I expect some even bigger things to materialize, and I can’t wait to share every part of my journey with all of you. Thanks again for the support, encouragement, and motivation. I love you all so much.

    You rock. Never change.

    What do you think of the cover for Touch?

    Tweet tweet:

    What if physical touch were illegal? Check out the cover for @brianawrites’ play TOUCH, which explores this idea. (Click to tweet)