I'm working on a book with one of the few people who intimidate me, National Book Award winner ("Middle Passage") Charles Johnson. He's a buddy, and the nicest guy in the world, but God, he's brilliant, and accomplished and (gulp!) an academic icon. The project we've planned out is just great... if/when I pull it off it could be the best thing I've ever done. But wow, the butterflies. I think that's a good sign. Shows I'm still alive, and still have room to grow. I don't even think I want the fear to fade...might keep me on my toes!