Roberta Lamb

Writer, poet and Blogger

The Beach

I remember the days, sitting in an old hut looking out across the North Sea lost in my own daydreams. I would escape a house of noise and walk down to the solitude and peace that allowed me to step inside myself without interruption or worry from those around me. The smell of the salt and the sounds of the waves whilst I cuddled into my jacket and just sat staring out into the world and watched the wildness of the waves beyond me. It was there that I would dream of the future and be excited about the never-ending prospects that it held.

The friends I had who knew me well understood the need I had to loose myself and seclude myself from the crowd from time to time but they also knew when to drag me out and to make me laugh. As well as the seclusion the hut holds memories of laughter and silliness of my teenage years. My first love, my best friends and torture of being an individual in a sea of popularity.


I still go back to that hut when I shut myself of from the world as an adult. I do not need to leave my room, the sounds and smells and textures are ingrained in my memories. The rising sand dancing as the wind lifts it into a spiral during a storm. The crispness of the snow and god awful smell of dried seaweed during the summer months. Each of these memories will stay with me. Each giving me a path back to friends and loves that are now long gone. That little hut sitting on the edge of the dunes above the rock pools and the North sea.



It’s the easiest thing in the world to do and some people, like myself are extremely good at it. Here instead of studying and writing up an essay for my uni course I doing it right now. I have a list, more than one actually, of jobs that need done around my home. At the top of each list is the words ‘To Do Today!’, the lists themselves are a procrastination. But I trick myself into believing that I need one to keep me on track.

Yet this morning I worked from a mental list, each job is done except one, my essay.  I distracted myself. I had nearly completed the list and I managed to stop on the very last item. Self sabotage. The end was in my grasp and I put the kettle on and picked up my lap top. Instead of heading straight to my desk and text book.

Why do I do this if it only prolongs the work that will eventually need done? I ask myself over and over? If you had done it when you were supposed to!, If you had followed your list!

Why do we do this to ourselves, when we were young our parents set boundaries, ‘You can go out after you have finished you room!’. You would then go and tidy your room, maybe shoving everything under the bed, bottom of the closet or in which ever hidey hole you had. But you would do the chore and get to relax. Now their are no parents to nag us ( well not on this issue anyway.) We have to find the will power to motivate ourselves. Will power to do the worst chores, I do not enjoy the subject of the essay therefore I avoid it, like a child and try and hide it under my bed until I can no longer put it off. ( the text books are actually under my bed! )

So now I have to face the essay and pull out my text book from under my bed and commence with the chore that has been hidden away for the better part of two days. While I fight of the urge to relocate my desk and water the plants, or simply take out my notepad and write another blog on procrastination!emin-my-bed




Scars are all over me. On my skin, in my head and in my personality. They are me! They built me, strengthened me and broke me from time to time. But each scar I have tells a tale. There is the scar across my abdomen where I went from a selfish girl to a selfless mother.

The scar on my brain reminds me of how easy my mental state can become a never ending spiral of despair, self-loathing and hate.

The scars on my heart from every man who has left their notch then left me broken.

 Each of these scars remind me of places that have made me. Times that have moulded me and warnings of the future if lessons are not learnt. The scars are me and I am the scars. Each has a tale and each gives me a reason to continue fighting to move forward instead of back. Without the scars we have no reminders of our history and they become easily forgotten and repeated.

I love my scars, my scars are roadmap to my future.

Daily Prompt. Scars


Can limitations and obstructions push us forward in our creative work?

Source: Obstacles

Self advertising V’s pride ?

As a new blogger I have come to realise that to get people interested in my site I will have to advertise my Blog. As a naturally shy person who hides behind the keys of my computer I find it hard to promote myself. Is my work good enough? Does it really matter? These are the questions constantly popping into my head. Well yes I have to get past the self victimisation of the tortured artist and realise that if I have no confidence in what I write, no one else will. And why should they?

So how does the Blogger swallow their Pride and self advertise, its an obstacle that I have to overcome.  sitting at my kitchen table, sipping my coffee and mulling this over in my head along comes the answer in the form of an article on obstacles by Responding to his question is in itself overcoming my first obstacle. Get your name out there. Have people visit your Blog and interact with other bloggers globally. Basically, Get over yourself! I am the first obstacle, I am the wall stopping my work getting out there. So I will get over myself and start self advertising. Thank you Ben Huberman.


After researching online to see what this blogging lark is all about I discovered thousands. Along with the daily blogs of writers, gamers and socialites their are thousand pages advising on how to blog. Who knew! Well it seems thousands of people did. I came to technology later in life and grew up between books, bicycles and the great out doors. ( usually when my mother had had enough of me sitting in my room with a nose in my book, moody and hormonal) Today though it seems anyone and everyone has a blog. Its the way forward it seems.
So off I go for better or worse with my Blog. A daily update of life, laughter, family, work or no work, writers block and frustrations maybe. Or just an observation or two. But first I think that maybe I should let you know more about me and my writing.
Well lets see, I am no longer a young twenty something, excitingly heading out into the world seeing everything for the first time and enjoying the freedom of study for the first time.
I am older, a mother and have lived a bit. I grew up in a Town on the East coast of Scotland and like most Scots I have a love hate relationship with this land of ours. Love the land / hate the weather! it does provide a lot of inspiration for my work, whether it is the depressed soul suffering from the bleak weather or the colours of the landscape that appear after a week of heavy rain and gales or the lippie attitude of an individual in the park during a morning walk. It can all be an inspiration.
So enough about me for now. The whole point of a Blog is to not bore you readers so I will leave the rest for future blogs..cropped-loch-lommond1.jpg

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