13P Theater Collective Set for Its Last Production IN Sarah Ruhl's "Melancholy Play" a woman becomes an almond. For most theater companies this transmutation would indicate a very unusual drama. But for 13P, the playwrights" collective to which Ms. Ruhl belongs, a human-snack metamorphosis is practically a matter of course. Since its formation in 2003 13P has produced shows that feature Kleenex-carrying Nazis, a talking bird statue, a new "WestEastern European" language, a diorama formed of human skin, a priceless parlor lamp, intergenerational lesbian seduction and Monica Lewinsky. The group came together with a deceptively simple goal: to offer a full production to each of its 13 associates, most of them unknown at the time of the group's founding. Its pithy (if slightly snippy) motto: "We don't develop plays. We do them.  When Ms. Ruhl's play begins performances, at the Invisible Dog in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, on Wednesday, it will have succeeded. And then it will disappear. "They were truly a random assortment," said Todd London, the co-author of "Outrageous Fortune: The Life and Times of the New American Play," a much-discussed book published in 2009. "In the meantime," he added, "at least six or seven have become leading contemporary American playwrights." The 13 people who attended an initial meeting at the playwright Winter Miller's apartment (two via phone) joined for various reasons. Some, like Ms. Ruhl, were deeply demoralized by the way many institutional theaters treated new scripts. At that time her drama "Eurydice" had racked up 13 readings and workshops without ever landing a production. Others wanted a sense of community. Others were flattered. A few, like Anne Washburn and Lucy Thurber, had previous experience with theater collectives and doubted the experiment would last more than a year or two. Such skepticism may explain why Ms. Washburn requested the first slot, for a debut of "The Internationalist" in the basement of a theater in Greenwich Village in 2004. Call it beginner's luck; the play moved to the Vineyard Theater for a run two years later. But Rob Handel, who with Madeleine George first proposed 13P, had a day job fund-raising for the Mark Morris Dance Group. He felt confident he could collect sufficient donations and grants to stage everyone's play over six or seven years. It took nine; he and volunteers raised enough to support productions that cost $30,000 to $40,000 apiece, as well as to cover minimal administrative costs. Of course $40,000 doesn't buy much theatrically, even downtown or in Brooklyn. It pays for space rental and actors" salaries, but many designers donate their efforts, and the playwrights aren't paid at all, nor do they take home a cut of the box office. But, the playwrights say, there were other inducements. Unlike other presenters of new plays, like the admired companies Clubbed Thumb or Page 73 Productions, 13P allows each writer to serve as artistic director for his or her own production. The playwright has greater influence than usual in choosing a director, cast, designers and space. Such an experience, said Ms. George, whose "Zero Hour" featured the tissue-packing Nazis, "made me a bolder collaborator and trained me in the art of advocating for my own vision." Many playwrights used their slots to stage "the play that no one else would do," as Sheila Callaghan ("Crawl, Fade to White," showcasing that costly lamp) put it. "Everyone brought their fabulously weird game," added Mr. Handel, whose "Aphrodisiac" boasted the Lewinsky character. Even by the standards of Off Broadway most 13P plays were fairly experimental in terms of structure, content, or both. And most made that experiment work. "I think more of them were good than one could have expected," said Mac Wellman, director of the playwriting program at Brooklyn College. Ms. Ruhl's post-"Eurydice" career includes the embrace of major theaters (and a MacArthur Fellowship). Yet she doubts many companies would have clamored to produce the "aggressively strange" "Melancholy Play," an early work, about an anhedonic woman, that she and the composer Todd Almond adapted for voice and string quartet. Even the tiny budget is a blessing. "It's almost like we're doing it in my mother's basement, like being a kid again," Ms. Ruhl said. By the time Young Jean Lee's slot arrived, she already had her own theater company, meaning that she could more or less produce what she liked, how she liked. But she recalled company members telling her, "This is your chance to do something so crazy." "And I was like, "Oh my God, you're totally right," " Ms. Lee continued. Because 13P does not have to worry about longevity, and because the plays are all so different, they can afford to have a huge disaster. My company can't sustain a disaster. Ms. Lee, who has little experience as an actor, chose to star in, as well as write, the macabre cabaret, "We're Gonna Die," which played at Joe's Pub. It was hardly a disaster; Lincoln Center Theater plans to bring it back for a short run in September at its new third stage. Not all 13P plays have been quite so successful. Ms. Callaghan acknowledged that she never cracked the ending of "Crawl, Fade to White." Gary Winter described his post-genocide drama "At Said" as overwritten, adding, "I needed to see the play performed before I could figure out what changes to make." Following the 13P run he cut eight pages from the script. But whether or not individual works have gone on to further productions, "I think 13P has had an enormous impact on the conversation about new play development," said Polly Carl, the editor of HowlRound, an online theater journal. Many institutional theaters in New York have come to heed 13P's insistence that emerging writers need full productions, opening spaces and structures like Roundabout Underground, Public Lab and LCT3. Similarly the Mellon Foundation published a white paper in which it announced its intention to "support productions, not development." 13P has also inspired similar collectives in the Midwest and on the West Coast. But shortly after "Melancholy Play" ends its run, so will 13P, which plans to wrap up with an anthology of its plays, an online oral history and a blowout party in September. The company was designed to produce one play for each member and then to vanish, an arrangement Ms. Washburn called the "implosion model." "There are pangs," she said, "but I'm really proud that we're letting it go." Ms. Miller feels differently. "Everyone seems gleeful about it, whereas I'm more glum," she said. Why not continue it? Or anoint the next 13? But some people like things wrapped up neatly, I guess.