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 Convince Yourself to NEVER Want Kids

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.

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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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I’m a Writer And I Walk Dogs: The Archetypal Struggle Of The Day Job

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

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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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Lizard People: Flash Fiction

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

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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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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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Confessions Of An Uber Driver: Passengers Say the Darnedest Things

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.

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Conversation With A Faucet: Flash Fiction

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

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My Husband, My Rock: Flash Fiction

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

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