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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Terminator Tiff: Flash Fiction

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

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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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Trigger Warning: Trigger Warnings Are BS

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

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Valentine’s Day At The Corcoran State Prison: Flash Fiction

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

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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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Grandparents Camp: Flash Fiction

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

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Some Helpful Career Advice From A Pompous Mansplainer

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

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Siblings: Flash Fiction

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

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Flash Fiction: They'll Be Dehydrated

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

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Date Night At The Apocalypse: Flash Fiction

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

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