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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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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How To Make Your Tweets Actually Funny

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.

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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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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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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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A Natural Alarm: Flash Fiction

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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Seahorse Man: Flash Fiction

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.

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It'll cure what ails ya.

The Only Tip You’ll Need To Survive The Holidays: Masturbate

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

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