Kate Ryan

You could take this easy, informative quiz to find out with whom you side on important legislative issues and social policies. Or you could go my route and pick your candidate based on what dinosaur they resemble.

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

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

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.

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

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

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

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.