Lydia Stewart
Bio
Lydia is a freelance copywriter and playwright, watercolorist and gardener living in Michigan. She loves to collaborate with writer friends, one of whom she married. Her inspirations come from all of these interests and relationships.
Stories (30/0)
The Isolation of the Playwright
For the last five years, I have enjoyed a collaborative relationship with a songwriter and musician. We have written four musicals together and gone on to produce and direct them together. We talk through every choice together and enjoy the kind of community that is necessary to make a play happen. I had forgotten how uncommon that is, because:
By Lydia Stewart3 months ago in Writers
My Remarkable Grandma, Elaine
I have been telling people about my delightful maternal grandmother for years. She was one of the most talented, sneakily funny, and interesting women I’ve ever known. I’ve written and performed characters based on her while wearing the clothes she made and let me borrow. While directing a theatrical production, I’ve taken cast members to her to learn things I couldn’t teach them, and there’s a Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover’s Soul published with a story about her in it. I have journal pages filled with hilarious Grandma Quotes. Because of her influence and teaching, I get to write for a living. So today, one day and a half after she slipped quietly home to Jesus, I’m going to tell you again about this remarkable woman.
By Lydia Stewart3 months ago in Families
Stars in My Pockets. Top Story - March 2024.
The La-Z-boy chair was burgundy. Carefully selected to meet my mother’s needs of both comfort and stability, this chair had the added bonus of also matching the living room. There came a day when I couldn’t hug her for fear of hurting her, but I could lean into her by leaning into the chair’s cushions.
By Lydia Stewart4 months ago in Families
Marriage Interview, February 2024
I’ve been married for 4 years and 7 months, and today I was visited by a younger version of myself. She has, of course, managed to travel forward in time to find me and is astonished at the wedding ring on my finger. I don’t blame her, especially since she is asking me the questions I never got answers to. (How DOES that work?) We sat down with drinks, hot coffee for me, cool lemonade for her, and I let her ask. She was anxious and didn’t know how to ask, but since I am she, I could interpret. (Try not to think about it too much.)
By Lydia Stewart5 months ago in Futurism
I Only Jingle When I Move
Dear mercy, girl. She does this at least once a week. She was just talking about this on the cell on the trip home, about how she really shouldn't be driving. We all knew that. But we all had to get home, and no one else could drive. Not that she would have asked us. Not that we have thumbs. Whatever.
By Lydia Stewart5 months ago in Fiction
Mara, Daughter of the Nile. Runner-Up in Book Club Challenge.
I came flying out of a back alley in Egypt, close to Mara's heels. Time was running short and everything was falling to pieces. I was expecting someone to jump out at us from every corner, and so was she. When she was blacking out on a palace floor, half dead, I was screaming silently from the shadows.
By Lydia Stewart10 months ago in BookClub
Reset...Reset...Reset
She woke up in her apartment, lying on the couch, arms at her sides. She opened her eyes to see a room with chairs and lamps and house plants, all grey. She sat up, swinging her feet down and off the couch. They landed silently on the floor. She stretched--though she didn't need to--yawned--though she didn't feel sleepy--and stood up. Then--where was I going? As soon as the question popped into her mind, a calm, soft voice asserted the command:
By Lydia Stewartabout a year ago in Futurism
Subscribe to my stories
Show your support and receive all my stories in your feed.
Send me a tip
Show your support with a small one-off tip.