Kate Ryan

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

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

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

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

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.

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

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