Montserrat Mendez is an East Coast writer and director originally from Rincon, Puerto Rico, who has made a notable impact on NYC's independent theatre scene.

With a degree in Literature (British, Spanish, and Medieval) and Theatre from the University of Scranton, Montserrat's career has been marked by exploration and growth. His work has earned praise, including being named a "Comic Masterwork" by critic Leonard Jacobs and winning the Best Playwriting Award at the 2008 New York International Fringe Festival for his sequel to The Importance of Being Earnest—Thoroughly Stupid Things.
Montserrat is a proud member of the People's Theatre Project 2024 Playwrights Unit. He has directed for independent theatre companies such as Manhattan Theatre Source and Nylon Fusion Collective and is a core member of Flux Theatre Company, known for its focus on transformative theatre.

His writing is driven by a fascination with archaeology and the evolution of character, language, and wit to shape human identity and contribute to a more equitable future. Montserrat is a proud member of The Dramatist Guild.

​Once Upon a Time, There Was a Bloody Stupid Idea!

I mean, Once upon a time, (in that hazy period of life when optimism outweighs experience and bad decisions wear the glittering robes of destiny) I went into business with a friend.

A film and TV company, no less. A grand venture! A creative empire! A partnership forged in the fires of… well, mostly in the fires of me being hopelessly in love with him and secretly convinced we’d wind up married, living in some artist’s garret, passionately debating scripts over cheap wine.  THE WINE WAS FOR ME. He was sober, which explained why I got so drunk in the fantasy of it. 

Spoiler: We FAILED SPECTACULARLY.

Ah, but I built a fantasy around it. A proper, gilt-edged, rose-tinted delusion where every meeting was a scene, every project a grand adventure. And him? Well, he was more of a "30% effort is basically 100%, right?" sort of collaborator. The kind of man who’d enthusiastically agree to climb a mountain but lose interest somewhere around the second stair.

But here’s the thing about fantasies; they don’t die, not really. They just… repurpose themselves. Like a haunted house that decides, after a few decades of scaring people, to pivot into avant-garde performance art space.

So, since the film company is now as mythical as a unicorn’s LinkedIn profile, and since my RECENTLY ADQUIRED NEMESIS and I no longer write, create, or pretend we’re on the verge of Hollywood glory, I’ve decided to do the next best thing: turn the whole damn daydream into a storytelling site,  A place for all the grand, the glib, the ridiculous, and the sublime. A grimoire of what-if and why-not.

Welcome, then to Mozzlestead; where the stories are tall,
the logic is optional,
and the only rule is that boring is a capital offense.

Mind the plot holes. 
Because.
​The best stories aren’t the ones that go according to plan.
They’re the ones that explode spectacularly.
then rise from the ashes,
cackling,
like the mentally unwell writer this person saYS i am.

Montse,
​Chief Delusionist & Recovering Optimist