Writing Odin’s Wolves was a pure joy. It really floated my Viking boat. Being the third and final part of the saga I felt it should end Raven’s tale with the force of an oar in the face. Well, maybe that’s going a little too far, but I did want to make sure it had everything I myself would want in a Viking novel; action, camaraderie, the gut-churning bitter sweetness of good friends lost through brave deeds. Did I mention action? I also felt there were some tender moments (not too many, of course), just enough to show that even Sigurd’s motley crew have sensitive sides. Apart from Black Floki – he’d use his own granny for spear practice if she stood still long enough. You could say I felt I’d really hit my rowing rhythm with this book, that magical moment when the story and the telling of it weave together and the writing lives and breathes. I can’t help but feel it’d be a shame if my Wolfpack didn’t take to the sea road again…
