Kate Ryan

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

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

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

As an Uber driver, I have the privilege of talking to and eavesdropping on a sampling of L.A.’s finest, ranging from the clinically insane to the simply self-absorbed. As a writer, there is no end to the amount of inspiration my passengers provide.

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.