Andrea Lewis (writer)

Microsoft employee

Andrea Lewis is an American writer. She was Microsoft's first technical writer and is one of three co-founders of Richard Hugo House, a literary arts center in Seattle.


sorted chronologically


  • The damp packed earth beneath the magnolias was our playground, but even when I was small I watched the middle distance, as if my destiny might arise from the grooved line where the mangroves met the sky. Sometimes a pelican would appear out of the haze, six horizontal feet of pterodactyl in an effortless glissade, cruising just above the treetops, riding down the long, drawn-out minutes of the morning.
    • "Rancho Cielito" Ontario Review, No. 65, (Fall/Winter, 2006-07)
  • Danger is like a nutrient for truth. When you have danger, you get the best truth. When it's safe, who cares?
    • "Eulogy" Pebble Lake Review, Vol. 4 Issue 3 (Summer, 2007)
  • We were a tiny redoubt of culture holding our own against the neighboring Huns of organized sports. I pretended to join the group disdain, but I knew in my heart it was already too late. After the two innings I had watched before leaving the house, baseball had reclaimed me. ...Forty years is a long time to hold your breath, but I was back.
  • Joy can come alive like that, when random pieces of history and rhythm, pause and expectation, melody and lyric, suddenly rearrange themselves into a pattern that leaps up, back against the wall, and catches your heart.
    • "Forty Years" Slow Trains Vol.7, Issue 3 (2008)
  • Lips... were ubiquitous in the ‘50s, when a few icons of womanhood were tattooed onto my temporal lobes.
  • One of the abiding mysteries of my life is the fact that lipstick disappears from my mouth five minutes after I put it on. I’m in awe of women who are always––always––lipstick intact, even during and after meals. I guess I’m a chronic lip-biter, lip-licker and mouth-wiper. But since I found out that the average woman eats nine pounds of lipstick in her lifetime, I can’t bring myself to reapply that often. Whatever chemicals they’ve added to make a lipstick long-wearing, I’d just swallow those too.
    • “ Fire and Ice,” Cadillac Cicatrix (2009)
  • Someday I’ll do an historical survey and in-depth analysis of lipstick color names and it will be an accurate reflection of our evolving culture.


  • I envied him these passions. If you had passions, you were living. Without them, you were watching––the way I was watching desert sand and half-dead creosote go by and wishing I’d stop craving attention from Charles.
    • "Tierra Blanca" Bryant Literary Review, Vol. 11 (2010)
  • I loved these compliments, which he lobbed at me like popcorn at a pigeon. I felt silly for craving his attention and powerful because he had noticed me. I bounced between those extremes, every other heartbeat, laying down hope one stratum at a time. The fact that he was all wrong––married, my boss, a flirt––gave me a perverse desire to make it right.
    • "Tierra Blanca" Bryant Literary Review, Vol. 11 (2010)
  • A cottonwood leaf beetle scuttled out of the loosened earth, frantic legs working the sandy dirt, orange and black body desperate for a new hiding place. The sunset was fading, and a bloated ocher moon pushed its way into the dark blue sky.
    • “Family Cucurbita” The MacGuffin, Vol. XXVII No. 1 (Fall, 2010)
  • And so for the remaining two hours of the meeting, Mr. Delgado and I sat in the front and directed the discussion. Or rather he directed it and I pretended I had an equal voice. A pattern quickly emerged in which my words would be greeted by silence and chilly looks; then Mr. Delgado would rephrase what I had said, as if interpreting from female to male language, with the added weight of an American accent.
    • “The Empire Pool” Conclave: A Journal of Character, Issue 5, (Spring, 2013)
  • “Rodney, whatever is the opposite of philosophy?”
    “My dear, the opposite of philosophy is terror.”
    “Terror? You mean fear of death?” I asked.
    “I don’t think so...”
    “Fear of what, then?”
    “Of never having lived.”
    • “The Empire Pool” Conclave: A Journal of Character, Issue 5, (Spring, 2013)
  • Each somersault whipped out a perfect arc of shiny drops from his thick black hair. Then, as if it were his decision and not gravity’s, he opened the blade of his body toward the water and pierced its placid blue surface.
    • “The Empire Pool” Conclave: A Journal of Character, Issue 5, (Spring, 2013)
  • Even the blue-and-white Delftware tile is back up on the wall because, when you took it down, the pale square of paint behind it broke your heart.
    • “Shored Against My Ruins,” The Southeast Review, Vol. 31, No. 1 (2013)
  • We came down from the trees, up from the grasslands, and into an SUV. We drove. We motored. We headed for that Texas horizon, flat as the flat-line on a heart monitor, straight to the brink of extinction, all the while pumping gas.
    • "Cryonic Freeze" Cutthroat, A Journal of the Arts, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Winter 2013) "Felix, Living History Enactor, Despairs."

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