Why Prologues Are Afraid of Water

I hate prologues. I get impatient with them in books. I guess the same way you do when you have to read through some terms and agreements before signing something important. It’s usually legally binding. And it’s a very annoying and confusing way to squeeze a signature out of you. It would be easier to dangle a pair of fresh handcuffs above your nose. It would send the same “trust me, you’d prefer to sign this, than shit your pants” message.

All of that long-winded legal language in disclaimers isn’t going to somehow quieten the storm in your teacup. (And besides, I’m a visual learner, so I’d prefer the jingle of jail keys as an immediate reminder of what the “other side” might taste like!). Maybe prologue is old-fashioned for disclaimer? That makes more sense.

But yes, legal disclaimers are annoying. Just like prologues. Prologues just waste my time. Put them at the end, after the thank yous. I beg you! I want to be deep in the story on page two! I don’t want to hear what went down at the publisher’s tea party.

No one EVER explained to you, as a kid, in the car ride there, how refreshing and cool the swimming pool would feel on your skin. You packed your bags. Got there. Jumped in. Woo hoo! Prologues must be afraid of water.

That’s my abstract way of saying that I won’t bore you with fluff stuff. It will only make you huff and puff and blow your house down. And that’s a terrible way to start any story.

My story starts here in Banff, Canada, for now…
Or welcome to Page Two!

I’m Ledge. I’m a 30 year-old quirky South African dude, but now a freshly minted Canadian as of a few years ago. (That’s my 30-second elevator pitch. Gluten-free!)

I love and adore laughter: making it, giving it, receiving it. I adore every facet of it. My rather quirky aorta valve lies somewhere between standup comedy and improv, usually leaning more towards the standup narrative. My future lies in laughter: somewhere and somehow. So I’ve decided to expose my creative and rather wacky workbench to the rest of the world, as a blog, to help grow my craft.

Simply put. I believe that there is light in laughter. There is an opening and an awakening that happens every time you laugh your guts out! The love and craft of laughter, for me, is a creative pursuit as well as a spiritual one.

As a comedian, you’re opening up human nature as a cunning can of worms. That’s your job as a comedian. One glaring difference between comedy writers and other writers (mind the stereotype!) is that comedy people provide you with:

hehehe headphones
whereas other writers may prefer to use
heartburn headphones.

As comedians, our worldviews often get blended and molded into an offbeat and quirky tapestry, as it leaves our lips or fingertips (in this case). Other writers may turn their worldviews into a portrait of heartburn and heartache, which often scoops up waaay more academy awards than any fancy poop jokes ever will…

[Ledge sneaks out a poetic teardrop that just misses his keyboard]

I prefer to say acid reflux instead of heartburn. Because acid reflux sounds like you’re busy breakdancing, as opposed to your heart and soul being set on fire* with “heartburn”.
(*These views are not that are endorsed by any anti-dragon agency.)

A Delightful Disclaimer:
If you’ve made it this far through my nifty nonsense…
Congrats and welcome!

Welcome to the Window Ledge!

You’ve started down a path that any ferocious unicorn or vegan zombie would be proud of. More on that later on. Until then, watch out for the tipsy squirrels, they can be quite sneaky, if you don’t have your wits about you.

Also, if you also happen to have an insatiable need to laugh (or talk comedy in general), please feel free to reach out to me, either with a comment below or at: windowledgeletters@gmail.com