Rick Carroll

I’m a writer. Some people write for a living. I’m a writer because the beast within me has no other means of escape than through my fingers. During the reign of white-out and erasers, it suffered a prison of thought, stymied by the physical act of release. Since Word, I write in order to make sense of life itself. It’s all I have. I make no apologies for anything I write. After all, that seething monster has been trapped a long time and now it’s free. Now, you deal with it.