Incandescent With Rage

I am incandescent with rage. Burning, burning. Aflame with the type of oxygen destroying anger I though I was not capable of these days. My publisher has done something underhand and unprofessional that threatens my safety. I am not throwing a drama queen strop when I say they have possibly endangered my life.

I better not write anymore today. The fury has too strong a grip on me. I need to clea my head. I have editors to tackle and potential horrors of violence to try and think of escape routes from.