Category Archives: Isobel Herring

Under the Tree.

A small writing prompt, or challenge if you like.

First the rules.

  • Responses must be in 100 words, or less. Bonus points if you can make it exactly 100 words. Not that there are any prizes, but you can pretend.
  • Keep it clean and safe for work, as per the general guidelines for this site.
  • Points will be deducted for boring, predictable responses – be inventive!
  • Have fun!
  • If you share this, or your response, elsewhere online (which you are very welcome to do) then the IWA would appreciate a link back to this post.

And now the prompt.

In 100 words, or less, complete this:


All I want for Christmas is……


“You” and other predictable responses like, “World peace” will be summarily laughed at unless you add a nice, juicy, but clean, twist.

Happy Holidays!


Isobel Herring’s facebook page.

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"Take my hand."

Is it time for another writing prompt?

I’m sure you know the rules by now, but here’s a reminder.

  • Use the phrase below as a starting point for your piece.
  • Stay within the word limit – there are constraints to make you focus!
  • Feel free to post your response on your own blog, website, or any other place you share work but please link back to this post if you do so.
  • Please keep your response Work Place Friendly – no swearing, no sex, no erotica, no racism, no nasty. I’m sure you get the idea.

Your phrase, your starting point:

Take my hand.

“Take my hand.”

Take my hand. That’s your starting point, that’s your focus. No more than 250 words please.

Thank you,


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Take me into your dreams.

When writers write we want to draw the readers into our world, show them the wonder and splendour of it. As readers, we yearn to be dragged into the world within the book, to lose ourselves in its pages. Have you ever read a book without being truly conscious of turning the pages?

This is a writing exercise, anyone can join in.

In 200 words, or less, please take me into your dream.

I don’t want you to tell me about your dream, I want to be sucked in and experience a dream with you. Take me by the hand and show me what’s happening, set the scene, share the action.

It could be a real dream you’ve actually had, and often that works best, or you can make something up. But, seriously, actual dreams are weird enough and you know how you felt while dreaming them, make me feel it too.

But, and this is really important, DO NOT tell me what it means! Half the fun is analysing it later and maybe we’ll do that in the comments.


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A Walk in the Park.

Good Morning!

Today I would like to offer you a small extract from my, hopefully, soon to be published short story, A Walk in the Park. It’s a very short paranormal tale of a man who dreams his own destiny.

Rick heard the whining as he reached his front door after a day at work that had dragged until time slowed to almost stop. He’d named the dog, Heathcliffe, just so he could call the name out in the park. He’d toyed with other names, not so savoury nor as polite, but just as funny. But the shaggy mongrel with the mostly black coat had suited the name, Heathcliffe. So that had stuck. He’d rescued Heathcliffe from the local animal shelter, a skinny, scruffy mutt with adorable eyes, and since then the dog had filled out into a delightful companion who followed Rick everywhere and pined when left alone.

Today it was raining and Rick wished he could stay at home, curled on his large, blue sofa in front of the television on a quiet road on one of the new estates springing up around Wingate. Instead, the dog had been sitting by the door as he arrived home from work. Heathcliffe had his leash clamped firmly in his mouth and seemed to be grinning, teeth bared and panting with his tongue lolling. His huge brown eyes wide and ears perked up. Well, one perked, the other never quite made it, the one with just a sprinkle of white on the tip.

Rick reached down and the leash was placed carefully into his hand. He hung it back on the hook. “Let me get changed first? I suppose a drink and something to eat is out of the question?”

The dog barked, just once. Rick shrugged. “I thought not.” Heathcliffe followed him to the bedroom, waiting expectantly in the doorway while Rick got changed. The dog’s nose brushed the side of his leg as he went into his kitchen to grab a chocolate bar and his trainers. A glance out of the window made Rick reach for his coat but he thought the sky was brightening a little. He laced his trainers up tightly, and Heathcliffe was waiting by the door with his favourite, chewed, slobber soaked, tennis ball in his mouth. “Come on then.” Rick fastened the leash and took the dog out.

Thank you for taking the time to read, and to spend with Rick and Heathcliffe.

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