Pub Logo


Bring me your flowers and your hours in the center of the storm

Sing with me with new belief in second lives 'cause

I survived the morning

Can you see me

I made it to the other side

Thank God

Do believe me

I've been so good at wasting time

Thank God for July…

— In July, Sara Bareilles


It’s July!

As we watch or read the news we hear: Mask mandates are gone! Employees are being called back to their offices! The malls are full and restaurants are fully booked! Beaches are packed and National Parks are over-capacity! People are traveling in record numbers! Bruce Springsteen has reopened Broadway!

Meanwhile, in the news we also hear: Airlines are having to cancel hundreds of flights due to a pilot shortage. Summer getaways are overbooked due to overwhelming demand. Rental cars are in short supply. Retail workers are quitting at record numbers, leaving shoppers angry and unattended. Stores and restaurants cannot staff adequately. Police departments are unable to fill job vacancies despite a new pandemic of gun violence.

Wow… Everywhere you turn lately, it seems like people are ready to get things back to "normal." Everything is open or opening, and people are feeling impatient. They want to get going. They want to get back to traveling. They want to get whatever it is that they want, and they want to get it now.

Patience is required. For us, the summer of rushing back to normal is turning into the summer of hurry up and wait.

And we have to admit, we’re not good at it. After 16 months of the COVID-19 pandemic, being forced to stay home, to stop theatre-making, we want to get back to it desperately. As artists, we’ve existed in a culture that values “firsts.”

The first to break new ground.

The first to try something bold and daring.

The first to offer a story completely different than what you’ve seen before.

This is, after all, how we are judged on our skills.

And most of all, after a year or two, we don’t want to be forgotten.

But here’s the hard truth, friends: Our company is a small part of a theatrical eco-system. We only survive because the other companies that partner with us offer us their venues during their “dark” times on their calendars.

And these companies are scrambling to make up lost revenue from the past 16 months. They are jamming their performance calendars with their own shows and fund-raisers, and rightly so. We are all doing what we can to survive and come out of this period in relatively stable shape. Renting their venue to Honest Pint isn’t necessarily their most optimal financial move, and rental prices have risen dramatically (no pun intended). We survived the storm and we will have a second life, but it will not be rushed. This has been made clear.

We have been quietly working on finding venues for the show we plan to produce, such as the long-awaited, much delayed SMALL MOUTH SOUNDS, and the new play we commissioned from Tamara Kissane, THE UNTITLED KAFKA PROJECT (we are so close to finding the right title for it!). It is proving to be challenging.


What does this mean for Honest Pint? Well, it means we are learning how to be patient. We are mastering the art of waiting and hoping you will wait for us.

Have you ever felt firsthand the impact when someone waits for you to catch up? When someone waits for you to learn something new? When someone waits for you to learn how to work the TV remote or your smart phone or how to drive a car? When someone waits for you to arrive or to go somewhere, or waits for you to become the someone you long you be?

It’s such a good feeling when someone is patient, isn’t it? Being good at waiting is a superpower and not a waste of time. We are mastering this as we hustle to make our shows happen, and we hope our supporters and audiences will understand how scarce and expensive theater spaces are.

The reality is that we are all coming out of a long, difficult time. We are all rejoining a new world of sorts. New rules. New protocols. New expectations. Everyone is opening their eyes to a new reality. It's one that really can’t be rushed, even though everyone wants to rush back. We all want to be together in a theater again, for things to be “normal” again, and we are doing our best to make this happen. Every company in the Triangle is in economic and artistic recovery mode right now. Please be patient.

However, the GREAT news is that we have dates and a venue for a couple of offerings!!!


THE UNTITLED KAFKA PROJECT Workshop — a one-night-only preview of our new work

October 15, 2021, at Pure Life Theatre in Raleigh

This will also be — you guessed it — a fundraiser for Honest Pint


SMALL MOUTH SOUNDS, our first full production since Fall of 2019!

March 18 - April 3, 2022, at Pure Life Theater in Raleigh

…And there will be more in store in May/June of 2022. Stay tuned!


We would be remiss if we didn’t share our “Cost of a Pint” info with you. So here it is again, newly updated for the post-pandemic era:


Our needs are simple: pay artists for their hard work and time, pay the licensing fees to the publishers and playwrights, pay our rental costs, pay for set-building costs, pay for lighting and sounds, pay for ticketing services. That’s it. There’s no “extras” in an Honest Pint, no foam or purposeless filler. The bills get paid through donations and ticket sales, and in return, we give you a thrilling theatrical experience that cannot be matched by anything on TV or the big screen.

We need your donations now more than ever. Please consider making a one-time gift to Honest Pint here.

Or become a Pintron through your monthly pledge via Patreon here.

If you work for a business or know of one that likes to support non-profit companies like ours, please send us any information you can. We are seeking corporate support and private underwriters for our productions so we can keep this company alive. Thank you!


And if you’re still reading this, we appreciate it. We think now is a good time to re-share our credo:

Theatre brings us together, to sit near one another, to hear stories, to lift our voices in joy or sorrow. Theatre creates worlds like no other. Its immediacy cannot be duplicated. Its intensity cannot be matched. A playwright’s miraculous words, directed with insight and acted with passion, elicit laughter, sadness, astonishment, enlightenment and inspiration. Suddenly, we are not alone. Theatre is communal. An actor speaks a playwright’s words. Another answers. Dialogue begins; melody rises. The audience adds its own energy, rhythm, breath; harmony emerges — all of it entwining together in a shared experience of power and exhilaration.

We believe that experiencing theatre is essential for communities to thrive. Since our inception, we have offered theatre in many formats, always mindful of ways we can spark dialogue and meaningful interactions with our audience.

In the age of Netflix and other streaming platforms, the importance of simply getting people out of their homes and interacting with fellow humans is a worthy goal. We are deeply proud of the Raleigh theatre community that we are a part of, and we love the interpersonal moments that happen before, during, and after shows. That moment in the lobby where you run into an old friend or exchange a thought with someone you don’t know is as much a part of our mission as the show we’re producing.

We believe in taking creative risks and working above and beyond our comfort zones in order to create experiences that stimulate, inspire, and challenge our audiences.

We strive to inspire the next generation of theater artists through performance, education, mentorship, and outreach.

We commit to sustaining a diverse, inclusive, equitable space and safe space for all voices.

We aspire to bring the Triangle area a high-quality theatrical experience while fostering fellowship within our community.

We believe in excellence and strive for greatness.

That’s an Honest Pint.

Thanks for sticking with us and staying patient as we figure out the next two years.

We promise it’ll be worth the wait. We are so excited to bring you new stories and experiences, and most fo all, to see you again! Until that time, stay safe and


— Susannah and David

19 views0 comments

That's life (that's life), that's what all the people say

You're ridin' high in April, shot down in May

But I know I'm gonna change that tune

When I'm back on top, back on top in June

Frank Sinatra


Spring in June?

Doesn't it feel good to be here? Let's be honest, a year ago we didn't know the road that was in front of us.

We had no idea the social, political, and personal upheaval that was coming.

We lived in hope that it would all be over soon and life would return to normal.

We were getting to the end of Netflix, we were growing tired of having food delivered.

Well, here we are a year later and for the first time in a long time there is a sense of hope. Something is coming. There is light at the end of the tunnel and for the first time in almost 15 months it doesn't feel like its a train!

There is hope.

There is cautious joy!

People are starting to gather again. People are traveling again. People are hugging again.

Soon people will be in a theatre again!

Granted, we all have a degree of PTSD because of the last 15 months. We are a little tentative about setting our hopes too high, lest they be dashed again. But, there is a change in the air. A spring in our collective steps --- dare we say a rebirth.

Life is returning. It might not be the "normal" that was, but it will be the normal that "is" and as long as the "new" normal includes hugs, theatre, and being with people we love, we say BRING IT ON!

What are you most excited about? What puts a spring in your step? What is the first trip you will take? The first concert you will see?

Let us know at we want to share in your joy!


Kafka project update

We are excited to report that we have a first draft of the play in hand! Tamara Kissane has worked tirelessly to create a magical, poignant story --- with music! Just imagine Busby Berkley mermaids, giant white birds, and trips the moon!!! That is just a little taste of what lies ahead for our beloved doll! The first draft is a baby step, trust us when we say it is a HUGE baby step! We can't wait to dive into it and work with her and composers to bring it to life. We will be applying for grant opportunities to ensure that we are able to compensate all the artists that will breathe life into this work! Thank YOU for all your story contributions. You might hear or see them the stage!


Welcome May’s guest blogger, Hayden Tyler!

This month we welcome, Hayden Tyler to the guest blogger family. Hayden is a Raleigh-based artist. Some of their favorite memories of performing, creating, and teaching live theatre in the Triangle area include Seussical (RLT), Rudolph (DECPA), Godspell (BLT), Lion King KIDS (Sonorous Road) and Anything Goes (Temple). Recent credits include The Tempest (Theatre 444) and Always Will (World Premiere). They advocate for equity, diversity, and inclusion of under-celebrated communities. Hayden graduated with a BFA in Musical Theatre and a BA in English from Lees-McRae College. Take it away Hayden!


Can I tell you a secret? I love wearing a mask. And it has nothing to do with science or reason, though I do find those things valuable; it's purely superficial. I think they look cool. I like the ones I bought, even that overpriced $20 mask, because it glitters, and it's pretty. I like the one that has a little cartoon vampire mouth, because it's cute and spooky. I like the one that has a galaxy pattern, for no particular reason. Just because.

Can I tell you a secret? I hate wearing a mask. I hate the visible reminder of the pandemic, the sense of stress it brings about the inferences we make about others based on how, where, and how often they wear masks. I hate the feeling of being on guard, of not relaxing until I can take my mask off!

And that's okay. I can have two conflicting secrets. During this pandemic, I'm confronting my conflicting secrets, which shakes me to my core, yet what I find at the center is an anchor of peace.

Can I tell you a secret? Most of this has to do with social media. I find that it allows people to conduct themselves in a very idealistic way, when those same people are actually much chiller irl than they are online. I watched people I love fight each other, connected to their combatant only through me. People I haven't spoken to in years randomly pop up and inflame a delicate conversation. People from all the social circles in my life, who sometimes don't understand each other but haven't had the opportunity to know each other, except through their connection to me.

This is not what I signed up for!

Okay, so social media is free. I'm not here to get into a thing about data mining ethics, I accept that using a free online service means I pay some kind of non-money price. I recognize that I can't dictate how others act on this platform; I tried intervening, and educating, and listening with empathy, and it drained me. So I went dark for the winter.

Can I tell you a secret? It was awesome. And strangely, so hard? I thought about how I wanted other people to think of me, what I wanted from social media and how I wanted to use it, and the expectations others have of my social media presence. I came to the conclusion that I had to merge my real, physical self and my digital self in the best and most authentic way for me.

We talk about mental health, and we should. We are beginning to talk about emotional health as well, which is good! And we've been talking about our physical and spiritual health, that's been normalized for a long time. I call these the four spheres of life, which I learned about from studying sacred geometry. Basically, it goes like this- you have four areas of priority in your life: spiritual, physical, mental, and emotional. If you spend equal amounts of energy on them, you will have balanced self-care. Which helps you live your best life!

Can I tell you a secret? I think there's five spheres of life now. I think it's time to add the digital sphere. It's time to figure out how we can self-care our digital selves so they heal from the damage we take. Like it or not, the digital self is here to stay; and I have to figure out how I'm going to put it in balance with the other aspects of my self.

Recently I replaced my phone by insurance, which because of how the world is now, took five days. Five days without social media, yes, but also five days of no phone calls. No texts. No Webtoon. No way to phone for help in an emergency. No GPS either- I printed directions from MapQuest (thank you MapQuest, you're still the goat). Suddenly I had to pivot my money handling, my communications, my sense of threat (and you may remember I'm not fond of that feeling).

Did you know it's a lot harder to stay connected to the theatre world when you aren't using your digital self? I missed out on all the hot news and developments, all the job postings, the pictures and inspiration from artists like myself who in March 2020 lost employment in three economic sectors. The digital self has real positive consequences, too- it gives us that sense of community, it dispels loneliness, and it keeps us connected to people we instantly loved but haven't seen since that one audition like six years ago.

Can I tell you a secret? I've barely done any theatre since the pandemic. I've been focused on building my stability, which is admittedly way easier when I'm not working two jobs (and juggling a few hustles) in order to afford opportunities to do what I love. Taking that digital winter break was a breath of fresh air, a reminder that I am more than a theatre artist. I remembered that I am a complete and valuable person outside what I offer through my art. It's hard to watch theatre gearing back up without me; but I know that when I am ready to rejoin, it will be with the full ease and confidence that comes with the security and balance I've cultivated for myself, in all five spheres.

The digital sphere has real consequences. I've been having a lot of fun discovering how to integrate it with my other sphere. It actually led me to this one last secret, which it's okay for me to tell you, right? It's so easy to be kind. To extend forgiveness. I used to get so exhausted from carrying the weight of fixing the world on my shoulders- until I learned to truly forgive myself for failing to do it perfectly. It's so easy to be gentle to someone, to radiate genuine kindness and love, because it leads you to more genuine and joyful connections. You'll see how many other people are truly loving and kind. TL; DR the digital self is real and we need to integrate it into our whole selves! Also forgiveness, kindness, and empathy are like so important.


Thank you so much Hayden!

We couldn't agree more. You are so right about kindness and forgiveness. it is easy to forget to LEAD WITH LOVE. A lot of our past 18 months has been spent in a digital realm and being around people again will require us to rebuild our social stamina! One great way to do that will be safely see a show. Safely enjoy a drink and conversation with friends. Put down the devices and live in the analog world for awhile. It is amazing what you will see and hear!


One last thing before we go: We would be remiss if we didn't ask for your help!

As you know, we relaunched our Patreon page after almost a year of being dormant due to the pandemic. As we dive deeper into our Kafka project your monthly pledges will go directly to paying all the artists involved in the project

You can access our Patreon page here.

If you prefer to give a one-time donation via a credit card, that’d be swell, too. There is a link on our website where you can use PayPal or your credit card. You can access PayPal now by clicking here.

Thank you so much for your continuing support and for keeping the faith in us!

We are so grateful for your support and we can't wait to see you all very soon!

Drink Deep,

David and Susannah


17 views0 comments

You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack

And you may find yourself in another part of the world

And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile

You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife

You may ask yourself, "Well, how did I get here?"

— Once in a Lifetime, Talking Heads


Where does the time go?

We are already 5 months into 2021. How did we get here?

Did you hear us gulping?

Time is still flying by. It’s still blurry. But it’s time for us to harness it back. Time to refocus our energy and to stop giving it over to a powerful virus. There are too many powerful viruses that plague our country right now, not just COVID-19. It’s time to emerge from our 14-month hibernation, to stand up on our feet in strength and resolve, united to create a future that is vibrant and thriving.

It is the month of May, which got us thinking about the word “may.” It has many meanings and they are strong!

MAY: Named for the Roman goddess Maia, who oversaw the growth of plants. Also from the Latin word maiores, “elders,” who were celebrated during this month. Maia was considered a nurturer and an earth goddess, which may explain the connection with this springtime month.

MAY: An expression of possibility, a permissive choice to act or not, as distinguished from "shall," which is an imperative or often mandatory course of action.MAY: Old English mæg, of Germanic origin, from a base meaning ‘have power’

MAY: May is a modal verb. It is used with the base form of a verb. You use “may” to indicate that something will possibly happen or be true in the future, but you cannot be certain.

Boy, if there was ever a password for how we are feeling right now, it is “MAY.”

You may or may not be happy that spring has sprung. You may be planting your garden physically and metaphorically, delighting in the beauty and possibility this season of life has to offer, or you may be cursing the allergies and discomfort you are experiencing because of it. It’s always your choice.

You may be celebrating your elders right now, as both of us have done in the past few weeks, with Susannah flying to California to see her parents for the first time in 14 months and David mourning the loss of his beloved father, Jerry, who passed away in April.

You may be pondering the possibility of real, true, social change and justice following the conviction of Derek Chauvin in April on three counts of murder and manslaughter. You may be considering whether to act or not to help create a better, more just, inclusive, and equal world. If 2020 didn’t shake you up, honestly, we don’t know what will. Sitting on our collective hands is no longer an option; a mandatory course of action is needed to turn around the COVID-19 crisis, the violence against Black and AAPI citizens, our mass shooting murder problem, and and and and…. Yes, it will take all of us to decide we want to do something about the cancers that plague our country. We may not turn a blind eye to them.

We have the power. WE are the country, solutions are not out of our hands. The answers may possibly happen. A corrective course of action may happen in the future, but we cannot be certain. We can only be certain that we WANT it to happen and then act in each others’ best interests on that desire.

Theatre is a collective art form. We tell stories together. We share our human experience with each other so that we can feel what it’s like to walk in each others’ shoes. This creates understanding. When we understand each other, we have empathy for each other and we are no longer alone. “Together” just works better than going it alone. We may or may not see the positive changes we so desperately need in the near future, but we won’t get there without working collectively.


Things I am liking this month by Susannah

This brief and lovely blog written by playwright Mashuq Mushtaq Deen hit me in my very deeps. Deen writes about advocating in his community and the power of words as a brown-skinned, transgender, gay man born to Muslim Indian parents. “We must tell the stories of our lives, through our particular lenses. When you read my words, I don’t want you to step over the hard ones, I want you to feel them all, as I did. I want you to say them out loud when you read this essay to your lover, to your mother, to your friend. Art is not meant to be a comfortable, or even a safe space if safety means that we will not be disturbed or troubled by what we experience. Disturbance and discomfort are part of a necessary alchemy. Art is provocative; it provokes something in the cultural subconscious. It challenges us. And it should. It exacerbates a wound, one we pretend not to have, and it is good that it does this. Because the wound is not the problem, it’s the way we’ve declined to deal with it that’s causing so much pain… And finally, what is most important and always lost is that we need to be kinder with ourselves. Deeply embedded in our judgment of others, in our inability to forgive others for their flaws, is our own inability to forgive ourselves. Every act of forgiveness requires an act of self-forgiveness ... for allowing ourselves to get hurt, for needing a love that did not come, for not being strong enough to not get hurt in the first place.”


My aunt, fine art photographer Charlotte Watts, turned me on to this link. It is a beautiful study of young people on the autism spectrum and their brave caregivers. See how three photographers portray the richness of neurodiversity, and reveal what may not be immediately obvious to the eye. Yes, I wept because it is my story, too, but I think you’ll love these photos. Photography, like theatre, is one of the most powerful forms of visual language and also a relational tool—a pretext to entering someone else’s world and getting to know them. Photographs: Mary Berridge, Carol Allen-Storey, and Erin Lefevre Essay by: Joanna L. Cresswell


And if, like me, you need distraction and respite from the trials of the day, look no further than my new favorite Instagram account. I can’t get enough of this little guy.


Welcome May’s guest blogger, Lormarev Jones!

Lormarev Jones is a Director, Choreographer, and Educator currently based in Raleigh. She received her MFA in Theatre from Sarah Lawrence College. Lormarev has served as a director and choreographer at many theatres and high schools in the Triangle, including North Carolina State, Meredith College, Raleigh Charter High School, Raleigh Little Theatre and many others. She is also a deviser, playwright, and solo performer. Lormarev currently teaches at NCSU while continuing to freelance in all her areas of expertise. Take it away, Lorma!


What a time to be alive, am I right?

In March of 2020, I was in the midst of 3 choreography projects, and had just completed three others in February. Meaning: I had six different shows running through my head at the beginning of last year.

I knew I was pushing the limits of what I could feasibly juggle. But when you’re an adjunct – you have to make hay when the sun is shining – because the hay (pay) is shit. These choreography projects LITERALLY paid my rent, and the money earned from that work would become my lifeline when the world shut down.

As an artist, I counted myself lucky as a creator that did not lose all my streams of income. In fact, I was able to create a new passive stream of income – through the virtual theatre space that became the industry’s primary way of telling stories during this time. My solo play, My Geriatric Uterus, was originally scheduled to be remounted in the summer of 2020 – and I had absolutely no interest in figuring out how to adapt it.

Then June 2020 came. The deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breyonna Taylor and George Floyd took center stage, and suddenly people realized that racism was still a thing. My show focuses on the intersections of Capitalism, race, and the demands placed on the bodies of black women; unfortunately, it seemed as though some of the material I had written in the Spring of 2019 were quite clairvoyantly commenting on 2020. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to capitalize on black trauma, but the show’s relevancy had intensified somewhat.

I quit the hand-wringing and assembled the original production team to collaborate on how to adapt. By July, I had seen so much virtual theatre; I wasn’t a fan of most of it. Pointing a camera at a stage did not appeal to me. My director (Carolyn Guido Clifford) and I decided to lean into the meta-theatre/show-within-a-show concept that had been built into the original stage play – and utilize the film-specific things that we couldn’t possibly have done in a stage play. Another friend handled all of the marketing and ran interference for the Kickstarter campaign that full funded the project!

We also made cuts. Theatre is an ethereal nature to theatre, an immediacy that really can’t be reproduced in a virtual format. I cut a lot of writing that didn’t work for film, or might seem redundant in this new setting. I also changed the ending, which was somewhat graphic and did not seem appropriate through a 2020 lens.

I am surprisingly proud of how My Geriatric Uterus: The Digital Experience turned out. It has been viewed in many states and several countries, by friends, acquaintances and strangers alike. It is weird and surreal to get messages every so often from people that have seen it, as recently as this month – when I filmed over two days at Shadowbox Studios in Durham, NC LAST JULY. I am so disconnected from that performance in a way that I am not used to as a theatre artist.

On the other hand, being an educator with several streams of income saved me from economic collapse – but as I mentioned, that pace was not sustainable.

I felt guilty that I appreciated the time to reflect, to slow down, to REST. Rest that was desperately needed. The pause allowed me to reassess my priorities, my goals and most importantly, my MISSION.

What is my mission, exactly? Well, I’m still working on it. Making theatre is part of it, but that’s not particularly specific, and as we learned this year – theatre is fleeting and not always accessible. Here’s what I DO know: I make better theatre when I am in community with those who share my values. Equity, accessibility, curiosity, collaboration, compassion, authenticity and joy = those are my values. I want to create work in environments that value people over profit – where rest is not only allowed but encouraged and celebrated. I had promised myself post-grad school that I would not run myself into the ground for theatre anymore – and the March 2020 shutdown elucidated that I had broken that promise.

I find myself at the end of my fourth semester teaching theatre in higher education as an adjunct. Meaning, (1) I have now taught theatre online for an entire academic year, and (2) About 63% of my entire career in higher ed has been online. I am exhausted. I’d bet you are too.

Although the pace of life has slowed, everything takes more energy now. Outings, social gatherings, even work. Now that things are ramping back up again, I am hesitant to sign on to projects for fear of getting back into the habit of overextending. I have no desire to go back to “normal,” because normal wasn’t healthy. Or sustainable. I am envisioning and manifesting a new kind of artistic life for myself, a more intentional one that reflects my values and allows me to care for my self physically, mentally, and creatively.

The unnerving stress, uncertainty and constant screen time of the past 395 days has worn us out. I have lost count of the number of times I have told my students, my peers, my colleagues (and myself) to drink water. We cannot control so many things – but we can choose how we respond and take care of ourselves in this life.


And remember that I love you.


❤️ We love you, too, Lormarev. We miss you on our local stages. Thank you for sharing your perspective on making a life with theatre. You MAY be the wisest theatre artist we know.

That’s it for May 2021. Our work continues with The Unititled Kafka Project and planning for another show as soon as we can safely return to theaters. More on that soon. As always, we appreciate your support and we long to see you all again in the lobby before or after a show. We have so much to catch up on, so many stories to share with each other. We want to hear every one of yours. Until then, take Lormarev’s advice. Always remember to


— Susannah and David

Honest Pint produces small, intimate, human stories. We make a different kind of theatre that we have a thirst for and that we believe others do, too. People see themselves reflected in our shows and are changed by witnessing them. To support our mission, you can make a donation here.



42 views0 comments