Kate Ryan

Kate Ryan

Bio

A Revolutionelle is the woman curled up in the back of a cafe, accompanied by a good book and lots of espresso. She’s the kind of girl you want to grab a beer with. She unapologetically loves the Bachelorette and Masterpiece Classic. She’s a fiend for dark chocolate, cheeseburgers, juice cleanses, milkshakes, kale, boxed wine, and whatever the hell she feels like. She goes for long walks on the beach, takes long naps on the couch, hikes through the Sierras, skinny-dips in community pools, soaks in lavender-scented bubble baths, rides mechanical bulls, or does none of those things because she does whatever the fuck she wants. She’s a tomboy, jeans-and-tshirt-wearing, girly girl, diva, fashionista, rebel rockstar, tea-drinking diplomat, hellhound motorcycle babe, spiritually-centered yogi, bookworm, historical buff, comedian, jack of all trades, all in one day.  She’s a contradiction and that’s okay. She speaks her mind. She loves herself. She’s an all-around badass motherfucker.

Kate Ryan Articles

How To Make Your Tweets Actually Funny

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

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Grandparents Camp: Flash Fiction

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

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Unforgiving Light: Flash Fiction

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

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Some Helpful Career Advice From A Pompous Mansplainer

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

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Date Night At The Apocalypse: Flash Fiction

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

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Baby On A Train: Flash Fiction

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

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Everyone Hates The Tall Guy: Flash Fiction

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.

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Detention At Monster High: Flash Fiction

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

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A Natural Alarm: Flash Fiction

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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What I Learned From Living With Five Guys

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

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