A Flippant Muse Needs No Excuse: An Interview with Poet Nigel Byng
A Flippant Muse Needs No Excuse: An Interview with Poet Nigel Byng
Nigel Byng’s muse doesn’t knock—she barges in, wreaks havoc, and vanishes when it suits her. In this delightfully chaotic interview, Byng reveals a world where inspiration flirts, characters rebel, and creativity comes with a wink, a snort, and an occasional slap of reality. Think of it as poetry with a mischievous grin—and a very demanding guest.
Michelle: A flippant muse needs no excuse, but if yours had to give one, what wildly implausible reason would it offer for showing up (or vanishing)?
Nigel: Oh, this is a brilliant way to commence this interview. I believe her true purpose for showing up unannounced would be to break any spell of prolonged procrastination. She doesn’t appreciate me being idle. She would probably say she had received a divine order commanding her to show up. It would be very ridiculous. As for vanishing… It would probably be something as irrelevant and hurtful to that moment of creativity as forgetting to walk her pony. She does as she pleases.
Michelle: If your “reluctant poet” persona filed a complaint against your muse, what would the charges be?
Nigel: First off, in my untethered mind, my muse has taken on the persona of Private Helga Geerhart from the comedy series Allo Allo. If you know this character, then you would know that my muse would probably say that this reluctant poet “takes her for long walks on a short lead.” Writing poetry requires the posture of meditation. Unless, of course, she has chosen to be a bit of an irreverent tease.
Michelle: Your characters wander, wrestle, and rebel—does your muse guide them, or just sit back with popcorn and watch the chaos?
Nigel: She is the perfect foil to my moody nature. The Jekyll to my Hyde, the yin to my yang. She allows the “Dance of the Imp” to take place. It is a full spectacle, and she is both instigator and bawdy audience. It is a proper pantomime in my head most days. I have always resented having my bursts of creativity directed by critique or standardized expectations. As a result, I feel that my muse would always gravitate toward introspection and anticipation, trying to predict my mood rather than to shape it. She sits in silence as I roam the landscape of imagination. Once I have explored possibilities, only then does her flippant nature reveal itself. Characters come alive only when she is ready.
Michelle: When inspiration strikes at the worst possible moment, does your muse apologize, or double down?
Nigel: She is a bit of a prima donna. One either acquiesces or endures days of silence as a consequence. I prefer it when she finds pleasure in my company. And I also prefer a stern mistress.
Michelle: If your muse had a personality, would it be more trickster, philosopher, or professional troublemaker?
Nigel: I know her so well that “philosophical troublemaker” could be stamped on her forehead. There are no apologies when we collaborate. Nothing is off the table, and we can debate for hours, but eventually she will win. So I tend to go wherever she leads. Happy wife, happy life.
Michelle: Do you ever try to ignore your muse, and if so, how dramatically does it retaliate?
Nigel: Oh no. That is never a good idea. In my early days of writing, I suffered from the dreaded “writer’s block” because I would ignore her overtures. I learned very quickly that my muse is always present, always ready to assist me, and very demanding of my time. I should be grateful, and no one appreciates an ungrateful sod.
Michelle: Between childhood wonder and midlife reflection, does your muse prefer mischief or meaning?
Nigel: That period in a man’s life, he is neither a boy nor a man. Mischief is shackled for the sake of decorum, and responsibility is hoisted on our shoulders. And I think that my muse resented that. But I have always been prone to moments of deep reflection, and I believe this is where I learned that my muse was like a best friend. Who else knew me this well? There’s God, the devil, and then there is Private Helga Geerhart running around in her lingerie in my head. No points for guessing who dictates my behavior.
Michelle: When collaborating with other writers, does your muse behave itself, or start showing off?
Nigel: Quite the lady. Demure, attentive, polite, professional. She is the perfect host, a great listener, and never interrupts. She will voice her opinion only when my head gets too big for my shoulders. Collaborations are learning opportunities, and as ideas are shared, perspectives and horizons usually expand. I believe a muse filters the noise during the creative process, and collaborations do test our ability to step back and see the big picture. Too close means it’s too loud in the imagination. That’s when she steps in.
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