TO ALL MY RSS SUBSCRIBERS, ALL SUBSCRIBERS TO MY RSS FEED (if you have subscribed to my writings through Google Reader, Feedburner Email Delivery, My Yahoo, My MSN, Windows Live, Pageflakes, and etc. etc. etc.) Please be informed that I am updating my feed address and this means that my feed will no longer be delivered to you at the address which you are currently subscribed! Which means that you will have to re-subscribe to my writings by subscribing again to my feed at it's NEW FEED ADDRESS. No problem! All you have to do is subscribe again the same way that you subscribed at first (visit my blog and click on any of the subscription options) and you will be subscribed into my new feed address.

I realize that this is a bit taxing and bothersome, but, I find it necessary to update my feed address, as my current one I created about 5 years ago no longer represents me as an author today, thus, the need to update it. This will be the first and only change to my feed address, though, and you won't need to re-subscribe again in the future, trust me.

I'm going to go live with the new feed address after 24 hours (to give this post time enough to update in your readers).

Thank you all sssssssoooooooo muuuuuuuucccccchhhhhhhhhh for your loyalty over the years, I love each and every one of you, you've got a special place in my heart, and I look forward to all the years ahead, with all of you subscribed to my writings! ♥

I'm sorry for this cumbersome task I've surmounted you with, but, it'll never happen again! Please re-scubscribe to me! Don't forget! 

C. JoyBell C.

P.S. Have you visited my NEW PHOTO ALBUM?? Go see all the new photos here: Città di Siena
and be sure to check back with it often, as I am still in the process of adding more pictures!!! :) :)

The Story Of A Little Girl In Red Shorts

I am suddenly in a state of epiphany and weird but beautiful awareness of a reconnection with my childhood self and my now-adult self. It was on a sunny sidewalk, on a sunny street, in Tampa, Florida, and I was wearing a pair of red shorts. I forgot what kind of shirt I was wearing, but I remember my red shorts and I was most usually wearing red shorts, at this tender age of seven.

"Mommy, I want to do something really extra special."

"Like what?"

My mommy and I took walks in the afternoons, down these sunny sidewalks in Florida.

"Like make a book."

"Oh we can make a book right now!"

Her smile glistened in the sunlight and her eyes twinkled in adoration. She adored me. I felt it that moment. And I couldn't believe my ears, because there was no way on earth that I could ACTUALLY make my own book, RIGHT NOW! Or could I? I mean, I was only seven! And I could make a book? A REAL one? My goodness! If my mommy could do this for me, then that meant she possessed some sort of a very special magic!

"HOW?! How can we?!"

My imagination of my name on a book on  a shelf made me tingle all over, and in that moment right there, I was sure of it! I was sure that there was no more a special thing to do, in the whole world, than to have one's name on one's own book and look at it on a shelf!

"We'll cut up cardboard, then we'll cut up the paper to fit the size, then we'll punch holes in the sides and then we'll tie it all together with really good yarn!" Her eyes were still twinkling and she was raising her hands up into the air against the sunlight and her fingers danced. "And then you'll write your story and we can color the cardboard cover with the most beautiful colors with your crayons!"

I was very disappointed that day. As I suspected, there was NO WAY I would be able to do that very special thing like make my own book and look at it on a shelf. I was talking about a real book. Not one made out of cardboard and crayon and really good yarn.

Today, my first novella is available for purchase by anyone in the world who has access to the internet. And suddenly as this reality dawns on me like the flooding sunlight on that afternoon in Florida, I feel reunited back to who I was at that very moment, on that very sidewalk, and I think to myself "I did it. I really, really, really, really did it!"

When you become a published writer, all sorts of "sharks" swim in and eat up the memories, the reasons,  the meaning... and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, it's all about the marketing, it's all about the publicity, it's all about getting yourself out there so people can read you, so people can buy your books, it's all about book rankings and Amazon ratings and Goodreads reviews. But if you take all the sharks away... it's really just you, when you were seven years old, in red shorts, walking with your mommy on a sunny sidewalk in Florida, and you think that the greatest most magical most miraculous thing that could ever happen to you in your life, is to make a book. Your own book. And today, I am happy, because today, that's how I feel. All the sharks are gone...

My new book; my new book is my new miracle, a miracle four years in the making, and it's the most beautiful miracle, to me. Because it is my book, I wrote it, I made it, it's beautiful,  it's mine, and that's my name on it.

Official Disclaimer

My writings (the contents of my FaceBook page, my blog, and my books), are not the contents of my personal diary, nor are they definitive of who I really am as a person. I am an artist, and I may write one thing today, and another thing tomorrow, and though it is natural to feel an attachment to the writings of any writer, it is necessary and very needful to keep in mind constantly, that there is no real personal relationship established between the writer and the reader, and I am not writing to you personally. And if you feel a connection with me through a piece I have written, then this is in the name of art, and does not reflect a personal relationship between me and you. Furthermore, you cannot decide on who I am through reading my writings, as these are not contents of my diary, and they are meant to be read publicly, and they are not personal.


The above is my official disclaimer, and it is my sincerest desire that whoever reads me, reads my disclaimer. I will soon post this permanently at the bottom of this blog.

Thank you.


(November 15, 2010)

His eyes are beautiful and frightened
Black and white
His wings are soaked in rain
Feathers clinging low onto the rocks
Frightened like a newborn bird
Soaked in rain
His hair is black
His skin like marble
Black and white
On the vehement ground
His hands press onto the jagged rocks
Hands and feet
He perches
Like a bird positioned for flight
But he is frightened
And all is black and white
On this rocky ocean shore
The waves rage
At the son of the sea
The waters have bore a winged one
Frightened Alone
Hostile Cold
Come with me, angel
I will not leave you
Come with me, angel
I will protect you
Come with me
You are hostile
And cold
Come with me
Stay with me
I will protect you

Copyright © 2011 C. JoyBell C. All rights reserved.

I wrote this piece in November of last year (as you can see from the date below the title), I recently re-surfaced my most popular piece entitled Human and the strange relationship (but at the same time distinction and contrast) between this piece and my poem Human rang loudly in me. And so I think this is a good time to share Angel with you all, and don't forget to re-visit Human.

I also want to share with you a new photo album I've been working on: Monteriggioni ..

♥ ♥ ♥
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