bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

care of creatures

December 24th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter
black and white engrave isolated hippo illustration art

I interrupt the regularly scheduled Christmas related content to flag two dreams I’ve had recently:

ONE. I had a giant pet black hippo who could stand on his hind legs. When we weren’t making pasta together, he would stand, tap on his back with his front leg, motioning for me to hop on, and I would attach myself like a back-pack and he would run around the industrial sized kitchen and oh how we laughed and laughed and then made pasta for some reason.

TWO. I had a beautiful black dragon that I kept in the bathtub. From far away it just looked like your regular black bathtub dragon. But get closer, and his neck is neon orange and green and blue, and I sat next to him, stroking his neck, and he purred.


ONE. I have heard I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas 9 too many times this year

TWO. My brain is trying to prepare for terrifying beautiful creatures that will MAYBE SOON BE IN MY CARE

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I gave Birth

December 10th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I just realized a few days ago that at one point in time, I would’ve been about to have a baby, as our last pregnancy was due on Christmas Eve. I’m actually quite shocked that I forgot this, as I DO love to torture myself with sad facts. But instead of a baby, Christmas 2019 will be the Christmas I had a Santa Play:

South Coast Repertory commissioned me last year, and I immediately knew I wanted it to be a Christmas play. Enter one Christmas issue of Our State Magazine sent to me by One Jodie Brunstetter, featuring an article about all of the different kinds of people who end up playing Santa, and the Ancient Order of Real Bearded Santas — about the friendships in support group slash union for Santas — was conceived, in my brain. At this point, I will DROP the conception / child birth = playwriting metaphors, and just reflect on the fact that my plays really do bring me great comfort. They distract me, make me feel productive; they’re jars for all of my feelings. South Coast hosted a reading of the play last night, and not only did I get to hear it out loud for the first time with incredible actors (Michael McShane and Joe Spano, JUST TO NAME A FEW) but I ALSO GOT TO MEET ACTUAL SANTA:

Technically this is Santa True, a storyteller Santa who’s been helping me with my research, whom I named the main character after — But YOU GUYS, PRETTY SURE IT’S ALL A COVER ACT, AND HE IS HIM, AS LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE COULD BE SUCH A PERFECT SANTA IN EVERY PICTURE TAKEN OF HIM.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, famous people stuff, holidays, horn tooting, how interesting, i am a grown up, the making of babies, the writing of drama plays, theater | No Comments »

Find it, and Look at it

August 28th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

What is the word for when a writer remembers a quote from something written and it inspires them, but the quote is from something that they themselves wrote? OH RIGHT, NARCISSISM. I keep thinking about these lines from my play The Oregon Trail, in which a young girl is VERY BEGRUDGINGLY traveling cross-country with her sister and Dad.

MARY ANNE: C’mon Jane. Look at the bright side.

JANE: I’m tryin ta. But I just don’t see it.

CLANCY: Find it and look at it.

I keep shouting this at myself in my head. Whenever I feel myself start to drop into anything like self-pity, which sometimes feels like a hot tub full of gummy bears, a warm place I’d like to be. Look at the bright side. Keep turning the thing around or wandering around it until you find it. FIND IT, AND LOOK AT IT.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, faith, generally, hmmmmm, the making of babies, trying too hard, Uncategorized | No Comments »

Bitch-slapped by Hope

August 20th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Why be a writer at all, or even have a blog at all, if I don’t keep trying to find a new way to articulate the same thing over and over, just keep finding and finding new ways to Say it? I have a new way to describe how I feel re: procreation attempts that keeps pinging around my brain, and so I’ll leave it here. I feel like I’m a Shutterstock image of a woman turning her face to the Sun, she’s grateful, she’s positive and she’s teeming with her own dreams, she’s very simply happy to be alive, maybe she’s pretending she’s a bug on a rock, maybe she’s reminding herself that she’s small, but either way, her eyes are closed and she’s just happy there, and the Sun moves just so that it warms her face like a cookie and just as her lips move into a calm and trusting smile A GIANT’S HAND MADE OF HER OWN CALCIFIED HOPE AND ALSO WHAT FEELS LIKE STEEL COMES OUT OF NOWHERE AND BITCH SLAPS HER ACROSS THE FACE, and she’s stunned, but then sinks to the grass in search of her teeth, and finds them scattered in five miles each direction.


Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, the future, the making of babies, whining | No Comments »

Path to Healing

May 9th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I can’t meditate for more than 3 minutes without getting distracted, and the few times I’ve done acupuncture I’ve just laid there watching the clock and wondering things like ‘Am I healing? Is it happening? What’re we doing right now?’  and last night after my D&C I had an entire bag of Haribo gummies and ice cream for dinner.  I am no Earth Mother or Mother of the Earth, I am not Zen or Chill, but RIGHT NOW I WILL USE THE WORDS ‘PATH TO HEALING,’ and boldly declare that going wide with our fertility struggles has comforted me beyond my greatest expectations. Last night, Haribo gummy cherries hanging out of my mouth, I read hundreds of messages received from friends and strangers, bold and honest messages about fertility struggles and successes. AND IT HAS GIVEN ME LIFE. Thank you to all who share and continue to share. Here was mine:

Last weekend, we had our second miscarriage. I know I’m supposed to tuck this away, share with just close family and friends, compartmentalize and get back to work, which I’ve done before. But this time, I’m sharing here to challenge any and all notions that getting pregnant is CHARMING AND ADORABLE AND JOYFUL AND WHIMSICAL, and only these. For us, and for so many other women and couples, it has been a nightmare. It’s long and stressful and expensive and painful and terrifying. I’ve met parts of myself I never knew, gross bits of rage and frustration and jealousy and sadness. My hope and faith have withered. But I’ve also been so moved by the women who have opened up to me about the absurdity and sometimes hilarity of their own losses and journeys. And I want to do anything I can to help remove any of guilt and shame that comes with this horrible yet INCREDIBLY REGULAR thing / 20 PERCENT OF PREGNANCIES END IN MISCARRIAGE / GRIEVING PEOPLE ARE ALL AROUND YOU / HI, I AM ONE OF THEM. I also share this here because I’m longing for any personal stories, things like I had five miscarriages and now my toddler keeps grabbing my phone out of my hand! And / or my uterus is made of construction paper and now it’s full of twins! Or even, I am going through this fucking bullshit too, would you like to get together and throw bottles of wine against a wall? Feel free to DM me. I’m grateful for anything anyone feels like sharing, but mostly grateful for Morrison, who is the most completely amazing partner that has ever lived.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, babies, sucking, the future, the making of babies, the whole world, the worst, wanting, what my friends are doing, women, words, worrying | No Comments »


April 27th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Last night, Morrison had an epic home invasion dream in which he accosted a creepy, dangerous trespasser who was trying to force entry into our house, and by accost, I mean he reached for his hatchet and hacked the man in the neck with a clean, concise movement, because Morrison, both awake and asleep, is always protecting us. I, OTHER THE HAND, DREAMT I WAS EATING A GIANT WAFFLE WRAPPED AROUND A GIANT PIECE OF FRIED CHICKEN, BECAUSE I AM ALWAYS FOOD.


Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, boys, food, generally, ha, love | No Comments »

it Has to be Hard

December 4th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

At some point, early on in our relationship, Morrison and I were discussing something that I of course can’t recall. It went something like:

Morrison: I’m loving how easy this element of our combined life and / or relationship is.

Me: Yeah but sometimes, it has to be Hard. 

And ever since, he likes to repeat my own words back to me, when it in fact gets Hard, because of course, sometimes it does. I think what I was trying to say is that I didn’t want to feel like we were just in a relationship because it was easy. I wanted us to choose to be together, despite the Hard stuff. And for the last year,  there has been some Hard stuff. I mean, also the good stuff, like there is House and Family and Most Perfect Cat, there are blessings of Intellect, Careers, Curiosity, and Christmas Lights, and good lord, don’t get me started on microwavable breakfast sausage. But also: we want to be parents, and we are not. (YET.) And that has been Hard. Not knowing why not has been Hard, waiting has been Hard, watching it happen for other people has been Hard.  Yesterday, I underwent a (very routine) procedure (that I will try very hard not to be overdramatic about)  to correct some issues that turns out have been, well, making it Hard for us to conceive (THANK YOU, SCIENCE. MEDICINE? SCIENCE. I DON’T KNOW. I WRITE PLAYS.) And now, on the other side of it, we’re hopeful that 2019 will make us parents, rob us of sleep, turn our home into a teething ring, and other beautifully Hard things that I will surely complain about, PERHAPS EVEN HERE.  And I really can’t wait for that Hard stuff. Because, I mean, a wise Bekah once said, not really realizing what she was saying, or that it would echo through her heart for years to come: IT HAS TO BE HARD. I know for a fact that whenever a small person takes over my body and subsequently, our home, I will appreciate it harder, because it was Hard. So I’m just going to focus, Hard, on that fact.


Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, babies, life, love, MAWWAGE., the future, whining, women, worrying, YAY | No Comments »


August 26th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter

To any of those who, for whatever reason, are under the false impression that my life is in any way elegant or charming, HERE IS THE ROACH THAT JUST DIED ON MY SHOE.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, ha, hmmmmm, how interesting, i am scared, Uncategorized | No Comments »


March 8th, 2018 by Bekah Brunstetter



Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, generally, ha, hmmmmm, how interesting, i am a grown up | No Comments »

I kale deeply

August 22nd, 2017 by Bekah Brunstetter

I dreamt I went back to the theater to get the only existing copy of The Cake so that I could rewrite it (no such thing as computers in this dream world). I frantically looked for it everywhere, and finally one of the producers handed it to me. It had turned into a bowl of sautéed kale.  I strapped the bowl into the passenger seat of my car, and drove it home. At home I searched through the bowl for a particular moment in the play I wanted to fix. It had turned into a piece of garlic stuck towards the bottom. I wondered how to turn a bowl of kale into a word document. I couldn’t figure it out, so I ate it.

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, food, generally, ha, the writing of drama plays, theater | No Comments »

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