When I was 14, my friend Erwin lent me a book.

That book was ‘The Illearth War’ by Stephen Donaldson.

I couldn’t put it down. I lost myself utterly in it, and in the four books following. Upon Linden’s awakening, I went straight out and bought ‘Lord Foul’s Bane’ and  systematically tracked down the five books I’d already read and lost myself in them again.

I’ve been going back ever since.

I could gush for paragraphs about how much I love the Land – how its simplicity and integrity and beauty provided the perfect backdrop for Covenant’s savage denial. I could tell you how the moment of passion and realisation that is Lord Mhoram’s Victory makes me cry every time I read it. I could tell you how resonant are horrors of the Sunbane – and how prophetic. (Have I not stood under both a Desert Sun and Sun of Rain in my own garden?)

I could tell you how Donaldson’s use of descriptive language leaves me speechless, how his visualisation, colour and vibrance have (quite literally) made him my lifelong icon. Gushing? Yes, absolutely. But, in an age where I’m supposed to revere Big Brother contestants by posters on my walls, can I not instead have a window to the Land?

(In fact, I’ve never been able to find such a thing – and my walls are too full of mundanities to leave much space for posters – regrettably, I think they call it ‘growing up’).

I could also tell you how, each time I’ve closed ‘White Gold Wielder’, I’ve wondered what happened. How did the Land recover from the harm wrought upon it? Did the Lords return? Where did Linden go once the trial of her life was done?

Perhaps I should tell of the moment I found out the Land was once again accepting guests: I’d just started at FP and I don’t know which was more surreal – the news itself, or the fact I was in a position to have access to it.

But no, all of this is just background. Twenty years of loving the Land and wanting only to see its recovery; twenty years of wondering, to finally have my questions answered (and, of course, not in any way how I’d expected!); twenty years of waiting for the moment I finally came face-to-face with my all-time literary hero...

…Stunned silence…

…I mean, what are you supposed to say?

In fact, I think I managed something clichéd in a spluttering teenage blush and fled, my copy of ‘The Runes of the Earth’ gripped tightly in my sweating little paw. It’s the one time I’ve succumbed to the fangirl allure of having my picture taken with a guest of the business; I went home in a tangle of embarrassment, amazement, anticipation and outright disbelief.

Chuckling.

At the end of October, Stephen Donaldson will be returning to Forbidden Planet; I’ve already said it’s the one signing I won’t miss. Thanks to Jon at Gollancz, I’m halfway through my proof copy of ‘Fatal Revenant’ – I’ll do the book review thing when I’ve finished it – the concussion of the Halfhands’ first meeting has just hit me.

I guess it’s just bizarre. Twenty-four years after I first abandoned myself to the love and lore of the Land, the concept of its Creator being my guest is still rather eye-widening.

This time, I shall try a bit more decorum.