Sure, improv seems impromptu. And it is, on the whole. But I hadn't accounted for the "rules."

Thanks to an Improv Comedy class I signed up for a few weeks ago, I'm getting the insider, improver's scoop on how all the ad-lib action comes to fruition.

The class is co-taught by two members of the local improv comedy troupe Running with Scissors. And all the learning takes place out in Westbrook at the Dana Warp Mill (same joint where I took that acting class last year - the official birth of my inner thespian).

On day one, we were let in on a little-known secret: even improv has rules.

It's comparable to life in general. Sure, we can let spontaneity rule the day (and do insane things like swap out our breakfast bar for a sugared muffin at the last minute). But you can't pay for said sugared muffin with a $20 bill you wiggled free from a stranger's pocket.

Well you can, I suppose, but it's not going to make you popular with the other folks on stage at the coffee shop. Life has rules - and theft is the focus of several of them (so I learned as an 8th grader marching out of Kohl's with three bras in my pants).

In the same vein, improv guidelines exist to help improv comics interact harmoniously.

The first rule we learned: Don't ask questions.

As in, don't ask "What are you eating?" You'll be forcing your improv cohort to come up with something - and they might...ah....um...well...not be able to.

Instead, make a statement: "That's the biggest catfish I've ever seen someone try to eat whole."

If you have experience with cults or extremist religious groups, the "ask no questions" rule should come easy to you.

Rule two: "Yes, and..."

Agree to everything - and then add to it. (Said another way: don't refuse what other folks are offering to you.)

If your fellow improv comic says, "Let's rob those nuns!," don't shoot the idea down. Don't hem and haw and say, "Naw, that's not a nice thing to do. Mom sure would disapprove."

Instead, "yes, and" the situation. Say, "Yes, let's take 'em for every penny and go buy tickets to Star Trek at IMAX!"

The idea is to go with what you're given - and to continue amplifying the scene.

Folks who easily succumbed to peer pressure as teenager (which soon led to drinking, sex and that unfortunate incident with the spray paint on your grandma's garage) will find this rule easy to follow.

Only two weeks in, I think the class is forging ahead well.

Word from the teachers is that we may be performing in town at the end of the class - a final recital, if you will.

If we do, we'll be sure to share the locale and date. Unless, of course, we decide we stink. In which case you'll never hear about this improv thing again.

To inquire about upcoming classes, or to catch some live improv comedy around town, check out Running with Scissors on Facebook