The problem with this from a writing standpoint is actually worse, because fanfics spare the author the trouble of establishing who these charcters are or why they behave the way they do. You know from playing an 80-hour RPG or watching five seasons of a TV show exactly how and why the characters will do something. So by using this narrative shortcut, you are skipping a lot of the work that goes into making a compelling story. Why do I care about this character? Do I sympathize with them? Should I feel bad that our plucky heroine is getting inflated because luck never goes her way, or is she a total bitch and I should enjoy this revenge fantasy? A non-fanfic establishes those barriers in the telling. Too many fanfics skip that step altogether and just go “you know, it’s Squiggles — she’s like that.” No, actually, I don’t. So don’t fall into that trap.

And for the record, it would be nice to note that your story is a fanfic at the outset. When I did a riff on Cinderella, I said, “this is a riff on Cinderella.” In the file. At the top of the story. So you would know the context going in. Very often lately I’ve opened a story, started to read, and had no idea I was reading a derivative work until halfway through. It’s still your story, but you have to set it up, folks.

Earlier in the year TLink invited lots of people to create an original character for his Academy of Swelling project. I took the chance and did my first OC, Dr. Julie Janssen. I then…didn’t do anything with her. (Though TLink did, and that thrilled me.) I see a lot of people create OCs (in fact, offering criticism to one artist who suddenly didn’t want to hear it, he haughtily told me that he’d created over 300 OCs as ultimate proof that he knew what he was doing thank you very much) and while some of them get the attention they deserve — like Kreizen’s always-interesting Inflatrix — I see too many people come up with a character and then stop. Like, to that guy, it was way more important to have 300 OCs than one well-developed one.

To me, OCs are not Pokemon (My OCs — let me show you them). They’re not supposed to be little tributes to yourself. “Look, I have created a character! It is original! I am a god! My work is done, so let me go bask in the glory of my own awesomeness.” Actually, nobody cares, because you have not given anybody a reason to care. I maintain that coming up with a name, a hair color, and a cup size is easy; putting a heart and a brain and a real personality behind the mind-numbingly boring data sheet is where you should be focusing your attention. James Bond, Jean Grey, Kermit the Frog, Hermione Granger — all the best characters have depth. An OC data sheet has none.

When I sit and think about Julie, I really like not who she is, but what she could become. I haven’t done the work yet. I want to give people a reason to care about her, to follow her adventures, to root for her and her loopy brain that brings good inflatable ideas to life. I have to convince you that she’s worth your attention; otherwise, she isn’t.

I don’t think anybody NEEDS an OC, but if you’re going to make one, commit to it.

I looked on Google several times, because it bugged me that I couldn’t find her. It was obviously a professional photo; someone had to have it out there. Well, tonight I found it in a place I really didn’t expect: national TV. The image was flashed on the screen during the debut of America’s Next Top Model as prior work of one of this season’s contestants, Kasia. The image was from V Magazine’s “Size” issue last year (there’s a preview on models.com with the full-size image) and was shot by Sølve Sundsbø.

I was thrilled to get the image in a higher resolution, but man…I just didn’t expect it on TV!

So, in case you were wondering, it was nothing personal.

Go pick your faves — it won’t take long, but hey, even a little pervy holiday cheer is always welcome.

What a great turnout — 15 stories! I hope I helped browbeat and guilt some people into participating!

Nonsense. It can be done; it’s been done before, and everyone has the ability to tell a story. So it’s not “I can’t”; this is, at best, “I don’t know how,” and at worst, “I won’t.”

Let’s start with not knowing how. When it comes to writing under a word count, it’s truly a question of aligning your thinking. If you come up with a story idea and sincerely believe it cannot be told in less than 3000 words…write it that way. That’s the wrong story idea for this event, so write it down and think of a different scenario, one that can be told in less words. Alternately, you can choose a completely different form of storytelling and use that to restrain yourself — a journal, a newspaper article, a poem. Bottom line, there is no reason to feel like your first idea is your Prose That Blows idea — match your intent to your inspiration.

Then there’s the “won’t” option, which, in my experience, comes from arrogance — the “I am too brilliant and detailed a writer to be constrained by mere word counts — every word I write is sacrosanct.”

I call bullshit based on personal experience. When I started writing professionally, I made the same complaint to my editor over an assignment — “I just have too much to say.” And he made it clear: “If I’m paying you to write it in 200 words, you’ll write it in 200 words, because there are five other people who will do it if you can’t.” And he was right.

But more importantly, when I did focus on word counts, I found something amazing happened — my writing got better. I was able to say more in less words by simply focusing on choosing the right ones. It forced me to carefully consider every sentence, then every word in every sentence. Every pass, I found something that could be reworded more efficiently, or a detail that wasn’t critical. I just had to put my ego aside and think about what was best for the story.

It’s no different with inflatable fiction; I use the same process when writing dirty stories. It’s the difference between a story suitable for masturbation, and a story that’s masturbation itself. Guess which one is more shameful.

To say 750 words are not enough to write an inflation story is to deny — or perhaps compliment? — all the people who did it last year in 500. Shakespeare said “Brevity is the soul of wit” and he’s got backup: according to some of the greatest fiction writers of our generation — none of which, I’m guessing, are writing inflation fiction under a different name — you’ve got approximately 744 more words than you actually need. Check out this inspirational six-word short story collection.

It takes effort to write efficiently; the Prose That Blows competitions are challenges. But efficient writing also takes a healthy dose of honesty about your own abilities and motivations for writing in the first place.

So whether you didn’t know how to write to a word count or you were simply unwilling to write to a word count, you have what you need to do it now.

And it only took me 584 words to give it to you.

Click here to view the embedded video.