Austin Brady on Writing “We Only Come Out at Night”

Listen and write what you know, but remember, you can’t do it alone. That is how We Only Come Out at Night came to be.

I began writing this show in 2020, during the pandemic. My senior year of college was cut in half, and I was faced with something that was completely out of my control. As artists, we were helpless, and we had to do the best we could with what we had.

I started writing short stories during my Playwriting class with my excellent professor, Thomas Oldham. Out of all the Zoom classes I was on, Thomas made an effort to give us the best sense of camaraderie and ensemble. Everyone had to read everyone’s work and give feedback to each and every one of our short stories, which brings us to 2026. What started out as a short story soon became a full-fledged production with the help of Houston’s finest artists, actors, directors, and other playwrights who came to help workshop this show through to the end. (I’d love to shout out the excellent local playwright Elizabeth Keel for reading not one, not two, but three different versions of this show.) It all started with a dinner, grouped with a handful of incredible Houstonian actors: Anastasia Zavitsanos, Pantelis Karastamatis, Matthew Martinez, Michael Sifuentes, and Joey Herrera. 

After fine-tuning the script, another workshop was led at my own apartment with a few extra actors before finally, Houston’s finest establishment, Rec Room’s Happy Hour Readings, accepted my request. This sold-out public reading gave me the feedback I needed, which was, “this is a story that should be told, right here in Houston.” 

I try not to tell anyone what the story is about because, to me, the joys of this play are the surprises you find along the way. I wanted to write a story about acceptance, about what it’s like to feel like an outcast, rely on true friendship, and most importantly, do the best you can with what you have. I wanted the story to be told in Texas, with a diverse cast of characters who are flawed, characters whose sexual orientation didn’t matter to the plot, characters you accepted and loved all the way to the end. Houston is a diverse city, and I want more theatres to produce and cast plays that show the beautiful diversity of our talent rather than pigeonholing POC actors to only play specific roles. 

The first version was written from the perspective of a different city, but I realized that I didn’t know jack squat about city life, so I took a break from the writing process and didn’t come back until after I had worked downtown for at least a year or so. If you’re not sure how to write about life, live it. 

From 2023 – 2024, I adapted the show to fit the environment of Downtown Houston, making Houston almost a character in itself. I was inspired by music, the ambient noise of cars driving by, horror-coded music albums that told stories of psycho killers and supernatural entities. I reached out to some of the artists whose music is featured in the show, and they themselves granted me permission to use their song in the production. 

Soon enough, a project six years in the making was finally here. Mak Secrest, the Artistic Director of Company OnStage, attended the Happy Hour Reading and graciously asked if I was interested in having it produced. I of course said yes and asked Dominic Leona, a local director, playwright, and poet, if he could be my director. I was so excited for him to say yes because he also recently had his own original work have its world premiere in Houston with his theatre company, The Phoenix Group. Dominic’s play is titled Mystic Familiar, a damn beautiful and heartfelt script that should be seen on stages all across the globe. We decided to co-produce the show with both theatres, and bam, the ball was rolling. 

I describe We Only Come Out at Night as a horror comedy and an ode to the B-Horror movies we’d watch late at night, but at its core, it’s a show about friendship, loving one another, and accepting one another. It dares you to question who the real villains are and invites you to laugh, cry, empathize, and maybe get a little scared from time to time. I implore anyone going into this production to go along with the ride because even if you don’t have all the answers in front of you, eventually you put it together, and then this story turns into one that you want to see a second time.