We spend far too little time celebrating that simple fact. This must be a golden age by dint of sheer number. The truth is none of us know, and we can only hope that time is a judicious sieve, and will sort out the fakes from the true. Where I do feel fairly certain is in my optimism that time's list of what is great will not concord with fashion's. There are essentially two rivers running through the history of playwriting.
Tributaries run between the two, but they remain essentially separate.
There are those who write about life, and there are those who write life. This has nothing to do with kettles or kitchen sinks. They can write life on the moon, in history, in Wonderland or in Walthamstow, but they write life, they create it, they make it happen anew in front of an audience. It is only life that will always surprise, and only surprise that will always replenish. But the ability to write life is not the entry card to fashion's top 10.