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

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Things Like Destiny: Flash Fiction

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

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Dormant Insecurities: Flash Fiction

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

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The Very Frustrated Hair Stylist: Flash Fiction

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

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 Gap model checks herself out in the mirror while making out. Because she dresses "like no one is watching," you guys. (Credit: YouTube)

The Gap's 'Dress Normal' Ads Are Bullshit Dressed In Black And White

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

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Don't Pick: Flash Fiction

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

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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 Gluten-Free Thanksgiving: Flash Fiction

The case of beer I brought, as my mother explained, is “pure poison” and so I must drink it all by myself.

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Before I Die, I Hope My Blender Arrives—Fiction from Luna Luna magazine

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

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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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Lizard People: Flash Fiction

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

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