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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School Lunches: Flash Fiction

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.

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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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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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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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A Pleasant Morning Ritual: Flash Fiction

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

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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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It's Not Funny: Flash Fiction

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

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Siblings: Flash Fiction

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

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How To Make All Your Instagram Pictures Fugly

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

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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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