Sigvald went to print today and I still can’t quite believe I managed to blag such a fantastic character. What a gift for an author – Byron, Jim Morrison and Caligula, wrapped up in golden armour, made immortal, filled with adrenaline and hurled into one of the most insane fantasy settings known to modern fiction. What a brief! I’m still waiting for my editor to burst out laughing and reveal that it’s all a joke at my expense, and Michael Moorcock is writing the real book. The story took a lot longer to write than I anticipated (six months in fact) but I wanted to make sure Sigvald was more than just an evil adrenaline junky with a large collection of mirrors. Strange as it may sound, I wanted the reader to feel genuine sympathy for him. He’s a tragic figure – always reaching for the most perfect, intense experience, but doomed to never find satisfaction in anything. I think there’s a little bit of Sigvald in all of us (or at least, that’s what he’d like).