My science-fiction novel THE DREAM STAR is finally in print!

Hurrah! Hurrah! My sci-fi novel, The Dream Star, is finally a real live printed book! It's been a long process to get it published but it's finally done. I'm selling it through CreateSpace.com: https://www.createspace.com/3675208

I'm celebrating this auspicious occasion with a DISCOUNTED PRICE on The Dream Star ebook. Check it out at barnesandnoble's site: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/susan-botich?store=ebook

For those writers who are thinking about self-publishing, I would highly encourage checking out all the options available to ensure that you make the right choice for a publishing house that will meet your particular needs. It's a big decision. There are lots of options nowadays for publishing an ebook. And a lot of authors are choosing this route more and more every day. The main thing to remember is to not let yourself get discouraged while in the process. The time you take to make your book what you want it to be, is vital.

Anyone who has thoughts on marketing for self-published authors, please feel free to share your comments. I'd love to hear them. I'll keep writing about this ongoing process as it progresses.

This poem by Claude McKay is so painfully right on.

(And, of course, this is true of all women who must run 'round and 'round on the hamster wheel, too.) 


Joy in the Woods
by Claude McKay

There is joy in the woods just now,
       The leaves are whispers of song,
And the birds make mirth on the bough
       And music the whole day long,
And God! to dwell in the town
       In these springlike summer days,
On my brow an unfading frown
       And hate in my heart always—

A machine out of gear, aye, tired,
Yet forced to go on—for I’m hired.

Just forced to go on through fear,
       For every day I must eat
And find ugly clothes to wear,
       And bad shoes to hurt my feet
And a shelter for work-drugged sleep!
       A mere drudge! but what can one do?
A man that’s a man cannot weep!
       Suicide? A quitter? Oh, no!

But a slave should never grow tired,
Whom the masters have kindly hired.

But oh! for the woods, the flowers
       Of natural, sweet perfume,
The heartening, summer showers
       And the smiling shrubs in bloom,
Dust-free, dew-tinted at morn,
       The fresh and life-giving air,
The billowing waves of corn
       And the birds’ notes rich and clear:—

For a man-machine toil-tired
May crave beauty too—though he’s hired.