 The storm finally arrived! This week’s blog was going to be one of glory, of success, focused on my recent trip to Spain, which was not only successful but worthwhile. While I was prepared to sing the praises of what I saw, tasted, and accomplished, the weather fairy decided to make any travel plans negligible and moot. Let’s be frank now, I don’t understand how, in 2026, we can’t get the weather models right in this part of the world. Yes, I’m putting it out there in this neck of the woods, the northern tip of Africa and southern Spain, why can’t the weather apps decide what’s really going to happen, even three days out? I don’t understand, period. We were supposed to get light rain on Friday morning, but I ended up walking to school in a deluge. No joke. The side streets were streams, borderline rivers with equally fun crossings because my entire route is downhill. Thankfully, I’m a resourceful man and packed a change of clothes, but my sneakers are still not too happy about our little adventure. Three days later, they remain soaked. While I’m harping on the streets, the amazing thought process of having tiled sidewalks in Tangier continues to rock my mind. Sure, it’s easy to clean up afterwards, but even a few drops of rain make these routes treacherous. Let’s turn a light drizzle into a downpour, and it’s easier, let alone safer, to take my chances on the roadway. The only saving grace are the locals appear to hide in the early morning hours when these weather occurrences do their business, which means one less thing for me to manage. As for my ill-fated trip, I watched a school of little sailboats, we’ll call them minnows, parade out in the bay for a good four hours yesterday afternoon, while the sun basked above them. Meanwhile, the ferries stayed shuttered as though it was a perfect time for a holiday. I joked with my friend that I think the Spanish port wanted a weekend off, because it was fine over here. Only now, at 1:30 Sunday afternoon, has the wind finally arrived, making the water less than ideal for a crossing.  Homemade meatballs helped make up for staying home. The truth of the matter is that the blasted ferry service from Tangier to Tarifa decided there was too much wind to make any runs across the strait as early as Thursday. Why they called it days before the scheduled departure makes little sense, especially when it appears our weather patterns are always in flux. I suppose I should be annoyed about this development. Perhaps, in a way, I am, since I was looking forward to seeing Cadiz and its cathedral.
All told, this would be the first time in southern Spain that I was actually able to get into a church. Lo and behold, the streak of no church visits, let alone exploration, continues. While I will try this coming weekend, I grow envious of my friends and family back home in the States, where their forecasters seem to be able to predict accurately a snowstorm that will cross over 2000 miles over a three-day period, and yet we can’t even predict if sun or rain will show in a ten hour period. Not to be entirely negative or sarcastic, I did make the most of this weekend. Double Cross is complete and now set for preorder. February 10th is the release date. What a relief and a blessing at the same time. I’ll share more details in the coming weeks. The important thing is that the book is done, edited, and ready for readers. While reading Rusty Star beforehand would prove beneficial, the story itself can stand alone. Of all my books, I believe this latest novel is the strongest storywise and is filled with enough details to get you not only immersed in Russell’s world but living in the moment with him. We’ll see, right? You can thank the flawed forecast, intermittent rain, and soft breezes for keeping me indoors to complete the project. Now the only questions that remain are whether Cadiz will actually happen this coming weekend and what the next writing project is. Stay tuned and oh… Go Patriots!
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 Inspiration is often found while traveling like on this spot during a Helsinki winter. In the middle of writing a travel blog, it struck me faster than the sound of the drums outside my apartment window that I’ve done a bunch of bone-headed things over the years on my publishing journey ― to the detriment of my ability to grow my author brand and get more eyes on books that I’m sure many would enjoy. While I have learned from my self-inflicted mistakes, I now find the independent publishing environment not only more competitive but also downright painful to navigate because of shortcuts that affect us all in the writing industry. To that end, the best I can do is share what you shouldn’t do, not only because it’s not ethical, but it demeans the writing process and the storyteller you can be with time and effort. Who cares how many eyes find your projects? Is it worth cutting corners even if it’s not your work? For many of us, writing is not only a fun hobby but a passion that can potentially be more than a simple side gig, but an actual career. If people keep doing these idiotic things, many of us who do it the right way will have to be content with our family and friends reading our published works, knowing that the masses will never find the works we have toiled on over the years. 5 Idiotic Things You Can Do That Piss Other Writers Off A good writer will see this and immediately have a story. 1. Tell people you are writing a book, and even have a book cover, before you've started the project. Let’s go even further, putting this not-started book on a webpage for all to see. Now let’s dissect this one. I understand the joy of fleshing out a new story idea and even generating a few possible covers to inspire your writing journey, but come on, putting a cover on your professional work site, that might not be entirely for creative purposes, is a boneheaded thing. Thankfully, I can’t take credit for this doozy, but I’ve seen it done by more than one person over the years. As someone who has written several million words, it’s frustrating when people do this. Honestly, what are you trying to do exactly? What do you accomplish, and even offering pre-sales, what is that all about? If you don’t have a preexisting catalogue, this is a BIG no-no. It sends a mixed message. I believe it’s even worse when this project has been just an idea for years, but you are using it to market yourself as an expert in some field. 2. Claim to be an author when you haven’t actually written or published anything. I know, this sounds a lot like the previous one, but there is a slight distinction. I can’t be the only person who has seen professional websites with people putting in their titles “author” only to do a quick web search and find that Dr. Glen Nobody is counting his senior history thesis (a mere twenty pages) as the gauntlet for his reasoning. Don’t get me started on the yahoos who use AI to craft the entire story and then take credit for it. You didn’t do anything. That doesn’t make you an author. I’m fine with “storyteller” because who am I to judge you telling stories to your three- and five-year-olds at night, but “author” is supposed to mean something. Or at least it did, years ago. We can also add to this list all the influencers who seem to think that publishing a brief post makes them an author. Nope, sorry. You’re an author or writer if you actually have something tangible, created by you, that’s more than a thousand words. Sure, we can debate word length, but honestly, let’s have some integrity in this process and not water down these titles any further. 3. Use AI as your sole means of writing your latest project. Now I get it: AI isn’t going anywhere; it's integrated into many aspects of our lives. Even this morning, I noticed Gemini has decided it’s now going to summarize my emails, like I’m a chimp who can’t remember the thread on my own. When did I ask for this again? Truthfully, when did I ask for AI to weave itself into everything that I’m doing online? Even in Double Cross, I would ask whether a certain weapon was realistic for the scenario I was brainstorming, only to end up arguing with the AI to prevent it from generating dialogue or crafting the scene. I only wanted to know whether a blunt object to this character’s head would cause this or that. So if I’m literally fighting and yelling at AI to only do what I’m asking, I already know the slippery slope the weekend hacks are doing, hoping to generate big sales with their latest books. What are they doing? They simply tell the generator they want to compose a book on a certain topic, with certain guidelines, and boom, there it is. Who knows if they even bother to read or review the thing before clicking publish on KDP? All I know is that, not only is this not authentic to real writing, but it takes away from those who are putting in the time, the real effort, to generate and compose literature that matters. But please, keep using AI to write your stories, to do dialogue and entire sequences and chapters, because you haven’t read enough books or practiced enough to develop the skill on your own. It’s one thing to look up information or to clarify a point you want to make, especially with non-fiction pieces, but don’t be part of that army of mules who have decided AI is a shortcut to authorhood. While I’m on this rant, this goes for students everywhere. If you don’t actually write, how do you plan to develop that skill? It’s not just the act of crafting a story, but building those synapses in your brain to connect the dots and create something that goes from point A to point B. 4. Publish books or articles you didn’t physically write. Yes, I know this sounds a lot like AI, but in this case, let’s pretend these hacks didn’t actually generate their stories; they simply found books and copied them. Yep, I had this happen to me once, several years ago. I’ve also seen it on author bulletin boards and in writing groups, where those who actually write reach out to others, saying, “Hey, your book ‘Tangier Living’ is out as ‘Moroccan Sunsets’ on this Indian book site.” Literally, aside from the cover, the author name and formatting, which were different, verbatim, everything else was the same. This wasn’t the case of an author like me changing a pen name to separate young adult fiction from older material, but of an actual person stealing someone else’s literary work and publishing it as their own. Please go ahead and join that line of work. Not only will you upset the author, but karma might come for you in the long run. Speaking of publishing in general, the more AI and copied works that flood the marketplace, the harder it is for readers to find authentic pieces. How is that fair to those who actually put in the time for their stories, only to have them pushed farther down in this messed-up algorithm that, for a moment, appears to be rewarding any content that appears in the global internet ether? 5. My favorite one has to be this. Find a tangible product or idea, and write one short book on the topic, then break it into five smaller “books” to increase sales. This is pure marketing genius that screws real literary works, because influencers say writing an ebook is a path to riches and success. There was one “author” I recall who published a series of dating books, or was it travel or finance? I wish I remembered. Anyway, the first book was free, and the preceding books were $0.99. When you actually clicked on the work, it wasn't just ten pages long; it was a glorified sales pitch to get you to buy the new product. All told, the six books ran to fifty pages. While I commend the person for trying to push their system or whatever it was, again labeling themselves as an expert, author, whatever, combines all the no-nos I’ve already mentioned. The problem is with this person’s schtick, and others like him is they flood the ebook market, making it harder for real works to be seen and for genuine projects to gain traction in the independent publishing circles. Not to mention, most of these series are utter crap, not proofread, and now likely AI trash. Just don’t do it, please. Bonus Time - Because we all deserve a 6th reason  I love this street in Helsinki! Finally, because a bonus is what many people look for. Here’s the doozy for me. This is my biggest pet peeve. Tell a published author you have a story idea or (even a blog) and want them to write it for you. I’m annoyed thinking about this one, as though I and others who have a list of projects to work on want to take on your latest whim when you simply jotted down a few characters on a napkin, or better yet, you want your life story to be told, and I’m the person to do it. What’s that, for free too, wow, what a deal? I’m flattered, sure, but really, why can’t you write this story? If I don’t write this story, will you take the AI route? Or are you going to find someone else in your immediate circle to take on this amazing project? Seriously now, the number of times people have proposed having their story told over the years is comical. I’m not trying to be mean, but I’m busy, and so are other authors. I know John Kennedy, with his Profiles in Courage, seems like a genuine influence for you, but I’m not a ghostwriter, either, certainly not for free. Should you find a way to compose your story, I’m more than willing to help you get that cover made and suggest ways to market the heck out of the story, but just don’t label yourself something you aren’t and be authentic. That’s all we can ask for in 2026 and beyond.  I'd vote for hanging out at this old prison rather than dealing with the noise in Morocco. I’ve been back for a week already after a whirlwind Christmas and New Year’s vacation. Subjected now to screaming and random drums as the locals cheer on their home football team in the African Cup, I have to admit, I’m eager for a Moroccan loss so that the football-crazed fans can take a rest and let me return to my somewhat quiet apartment. Then again, why would we expect anything different when this area only seems to sleep from 6 in the morning until half past 8? Granted, I’ve been spoiled of late. The constant stimulation one faces in Tangier is a challenge to begin with. My body’s tendency in winter is to slip into hibernation mode, so it seems disharmonious to resist this natural inclination. At least tonight there is a reprieve from the hammer choir that has serenaded me for months on end, enough to get some words in, to reflect on what was an almost perfect post-Christmas-New Year’s retreat. Let me be the first to share: Finland isn’t for everyone, but for this introvert, it’s a welcome-home mantra. Noise, Distance, and the Need for Stillness Look at the local greeters :) I can’t necessarily comment on Finland being the happiest place on earth, but I know that those looking for subtle light, a quiet mood, and time to think, there might be no better place to be this time of year for inner work, and yet an ability to get some stimulation if necessary. Then again, if you have a fear of small dogs, it might not be the place to be, or you can’t handle being in a little cold. Wait one, as we say in the military, and cue the snare drum and cowbell. I can’t make this up even if I wanted to. I suppose the Moroccan National team must be trying to score again, or the fans outside my window at a restaurant in dire need of a promotion that gets people in the doors believe their sabre-rattling will give the team the necessary inspiration to do something grand. I hate to tell them, the game is several hundred miles away, and they can’t hear you. Oh dear, I just realised this is the pregame entertainment. This might be a long evening . . . I digress for a moment, only because I remember when the World Cup came to the United States in 1994. Others and many like me in New Hampshire couldn't care less. The only people who seemed to give two hoots were Pelé fans who remembered an older football star playing in a subpar American league and high school soccer players who knew the highlight of their playing existence was winning a state title. For the month or however long the games were played in American football stadiums, we as a country seemed to care enough to learn the names of Alexi Lalas, and well, that’s it, but not enough for American culture to be more than fair-weather fans. We might have warmed to the Women’s World Cup, but I don’t think it was due to the games themselves. Thirty years later, and well, the USA might have a bigger professional league now, but its status among the major sports is at best tertiary. I’d rather watch race car drivers take left-hand turns for two and a half hours than suffer through an overrated sporting event. Hey, what do I know? I really want to focus on Finland and why it’s a great winter retreat. Before the drumming starts again, let’s dive into Finland and all its glory. Why Helsinki Worked as a Winter Retreat Sunset in Helsinki - A touch of heaven To begin, locals will tell you Helsinki and Finland in general are a wonderland during the summer months. I can say, winter is equally stimulating and without the crowds, whatever that exactly means. In Helsinki, it’s not much compared to other European cities during the height of the Christmas holiday season. Then again, if you make the mistake of going to reindeer land and seeking to sit on Santa’s lap, well, prepare for the typical tourist overcrowding that plagues much of Europe in the summer months, not to mention dealing with several fallacies to create the illusion that you are visiting Santa’s winter base of operations. Let’s be clear, Santa’s real home is most likely in Poland, home of the North Pole (do you see what I did there?) or Santa’s Village in Jefferson, New Hampshire. I don’t believe Santa is in Lapland, where they had to accommodate husky sledding rides in the 1980s to appease the evergrowing number of tourists in Santa’s alleged home turf. Still, most of those who flock to Finland in the winter months head north, not to Helsinki, which was perfect for me. Logistically speaking, Helsinki has to be one of the easiest airports to navigate I’ve encountered to date. English is clearly the second language, so there is no issue for those who lack Finnish in their repertoire. After walking through their immaculately clean and sleek terminal, getting to the train that takes between twenty-eight and thirty-two minutes to get you and others to the center of the capital city is beyond easy. You can always download the app, although if your phone is moody like mine (it might be the Moroccan number), the machines are user-friendly, and honestly, 4.80 euros to get to the hub is affordable. If you are a planner like some of my traveling friends, you can easily get a multi-day transit pass that lets you travel in and around the greater city for about seven euros a day. That’s not only reasonable but, for those that don’t want to deal with trekking through the cold, a welcome bonus. I looked into Bolt and Uber rates, and let’s just say you won’t be able to cut many costs on this trip, so taking public transit is likely the only part where you feel fiscally pleased. Then again, it depends on your budget, but food is a mixed bag in price. I know, I know, I should be focusing on only the positives, but let’s be real. I typically eat out for lunch and buy groceries for dinner. Even now, I’m torn about whether I actually saved any money with this technique. Grocery prices, whether at Lidl or at their corner markets, seemed expensive. Come on, nine euros for Ben and Jerry’s is nuts. Even the yogurt, I went generic (local brand) at 0.70 euros, because I couldn’t rationalize paying 2.40 euros for what I would find in Poland, Spain, or England. Cheese, milk, it’s all more expensive. Then again, the granola cereal I found was reasonably priced and delicious, as were the apples and peanut butter, so there were some deals to be made. Regardless, I had some sticker shock, but it was still cheaper than going out to breakfast every morning. The Lazy Fox was my lone breakfast outing, and while I loved the atmosphere, my American upbringing made me question the portion size versus the price, and since when is one cup of tea so expensive? I missed my pot of tea in Parnu, Estonia, for what felt like half the price. Later that day, after an overnight in a standard hotel room, I found myself in a glorified, upscale food court, which made me question how much I wanted to pay for a slice of pizza or a bowl of wok soup. The going rate seems to be 19 euros, but I kept walking until I saw a sign for a lunch special at a local Italian place well across the street. This, my friend, was a godsend and something to look forward to should you be exploring Helsinki. Especially in the center, many restaurants have midday specials with salad, a drink, tea/coffee, and the main course for around 16 euros. While I simply pointed to one of the pizza options at the Italian place I was warming up in, I felt like I'd found a deal. Two days later, it was the same when I stumbled across a buffet a block or two from the prison-hotel I felt obligated to vlog from. So, can you get some food deals? It can be done, but it also depends on your budget. I didn’t go to Helsinki for the food, but for the quiet. Let’s be clear, did I find quiet? Absolutely. Even riding the train into the city center, there was an immediate weight taken off my shoulders. At the airport, people were quiet, or at least lowered the volume of their conversations and their enthusiastic replies. This seemed consistent everywhere I explored and walked. Long, picturesque walks with water views were the norm during my entire visit. Having decided to stay close to the center, I made it a point to be within a fifteen to twenty-minute walk to the water and the area’s trail network of 100km. Even as I found myself walking the same route, multiple times of day, there were few people, if any, making me feel like I had the area all to myself. What surprised me, or more like I overlooked, was that the sun’s angle and light intensity were muted at best. Always a fan of running in the early morning hours, especially as the sun rises and before it peaks on those long summer days back home in Maine and New Hampshire, I found the sun didn’t rise much over the horizon on this Helsinki trip, thus giving me a more subdued vibe and reminding me of those wondrous workouts. Unlike in New England, where this meant 4:30 or 5:30 am workouts, the sun didn’t start creeping up at what felt like nine in the morning, and it was long gone before three. I stress the light, because this isn’t for every traveler. This is more of a reflective, subdued energy. You feel like you are in perpetual early morning or early evening, and for me, that was pleasant. Mix that with the cold, teens, and single digits, I had the perfect walking weather and the ability to call it quits whenever for a hot cup of hot chocolate (6.80 euros - ugh) or get some tea back in the apartment. With the seasonal light, everything appears to start later. That’s something to plan for. Cafes are open at regular hours, if you will, but if you want to get into some of the museums or churches, eleven and noon appear to be the norm. I was able to visit the Catholic Cathedral (for free) earlier than at other venues. The weather was great for me, but if you can’t handle the wind off the water and the briskness it provides, you might be pining for Malaga or the Maldives during a winter holiday. I made the mistake of bringing only a winter liner for a coat, but with a heavy sweater, scarf, and an extra layer, I was good to go. Then again, when my AccuWeather app failed to notify me of a snow squall that turned into a two-hour-long ordeal, and chilled me to the bone, I wished I hadn’t packed as light as I had. Full disclosure, trekking through the city with my bag in tow was a traveling no-no, but an hour in my apartment dried everything out on this one occasion. At least it was just a backpack, not some wheeled monstrosity that would have been a pain to drag along the sidewalks and cobbled areas. Lastly, the key to this trip was being able to disconnect from the noise, even from technology, and get outside when I felt like it, and relax inside without feeling like my neighbors were inconsiderate jerks. Then again, not being inundated with people asking for handouts on every street corner made me wonder whether I had simply found Europe’s least deprived capital, or whether those in need were properly sheltered and cared for. Either way, I could come and go as I pleased without feeling threatened or put off. This was relaxing and just what my mind needed. I would certainly visit Helsinki again in the winter months, but the next time, it would likely be for a night or two at most, then the ferry across to Estonia for a similar taste and vibe in the Baltic states, but without the price tag that Helsinki and Finland dictate. |
Meet Mr. Jon- a traveler at heart who loves a good story and walk. Jonathan has over twenty years experience in independent publishing. While he prides himself on crafting a good story, nothing truly beats an adventure and a camera. 
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