writer’s block does not exist
I realize this is a strange headline, but if you give me a chance to prove it, I bet I can give you something that will help you write.
It seems undeniable that writer’s block exists, right? There are times that you want to write but are unable to do so, and we could describe the phenomenon of struggling to write as writer’s block. But writer’s block is often described by people as a condition, rather than a symptom of several very different, very distinct conditions.
What I want to do here is to identify those conditions and help you break through them, so that you can write the stories you wish to write. I’m here to help you get back on track. And I’m here to help you do it without wasting money on AI tools that will not solve your problems.
Look, I’ve been in writing communities since I was literally a kid, and let me tell you: writer’s block does not exist. You’d have people talk about it, say they lost their muse, whatever, and every time, and, in the loosest sense, (there are others; we’ll get to them in a bit) it was either:
- the writer needed to rest and recover
- the writer’s idea was in the wrong place
- the writer had not learned how to develop ideas
But this?
This bullshit?
Before I tell you why AI sucks, I’m gonna let you know: this is not actually an essay about why AI sucks. We did that already. This is an essay about what writer’s block actually is and how to combat it. Yeah, yeah, I said it doesn’t exist, but a more descriptive headline might have been “writer’s block, as commonly envisioned, does not exist” but that’s just a terrible headline.
AI cannot and will not help you if you have writer’s block. AI is like the stupidest person you know, who randomly repeats things they already heard. If they manage, out of ten thousand suggestions, to get one right, you could be amazed.
Oh, sure, the people who sell AI want to tell you it can analyze things, but it cannot. AI is not actual AI in the science fiction sense, it’s more like a magic 8-ball, or a cheating student who copies and pastes content from elsewhere without understanding the material; if the student did understand the material, they wouldn’t need to cheat on their exam. You can’t get anything useful out of it.
So AI cannot give you anything, and there’s a reason most consumers fucking hate it.
But, again, this is not a piece on AI. If you want to use AI as something to jerk off to or as a toy or whatever, sure. Fine. Whatever. Deviantart is drowned in an excess of randomly generated AI fetish art. But once you start thinking it can do something it absolutely, definitely cannot do, you’re going to run into some fucking problems. It can’t give you what you want outside of that.
Why You’re Struggling To Write, Part 1: You Are Tired
The first thing you should test when you are struggling to write is fatigue. So many issues come directly from that. You might not even be aware you’re struggling from it. So go through the checklist, get some rest, make sure you are hydrated and fed. I didn’t start this essay today without first going and grabbing a bite to eat at Culver’s. I’ve seen friends who kick ass at certain video games struggle when they’re fatigued — hell, I have chronic fatigue syndrome — and I know you have too.
How many times have you tried to overcome a platforming sequence in a game that you know you could normally challenge in your sleep, only to wake up, rested and refreshed, and try again the next day, succeeding pretty quickly?
So, if you’re sitting there with a story in front of you, and the words just aren’t coming, the first thing you should attend to is your body’s needs.
“But if I’m tired, can’t getting someone else to shoulder the load help me out?” Okay, well, AI isn’t a person, it’s a bunch of goat entrails or bones or dice that you shake around and pretend to ascribe meaning to the resultant pattern. It has nothing, and the consumers who buy the shit you’re selling don’t want it.
But, more importantly than this, if you use AI to try to force yourself to write when you should be resting and letting your brain recover, then your writing muscles will never grow.
You need to stop. Sit back. And rest. You need to recover, so your brain can grow at its ability to do this task. You. Must. Rest. So if you whip out AI to make yourself write, well, you’ll just go further into burnout, that insidious condition that doesn’t make its presence known until after you’ve gone too far. That’s bad for you. It will hurt you in the long run.
Think of writing like muscle development; you need to spend time not writing and instead spend it percolating in order to grow your writing skills, just like bodybuilders and athletes need to take rest days for growth.
I know plenty of people who are not writers — people who have consumed lots of stories and think they know how to write stories, but this is like eating McDonald’s a lot and thinking “how hard could it be to earn a Michelin star?” — and they have this tendency to think that “writing” is “the explicit act of putting a pen to paper.”
What they don’t understand is that writing is massively about preparation.
You need to sit there and let a scene soak in the briny juices of your brain. It takes time to develop — and yes, you do need to sit down and perform the mechanical function of writing — and there’s no way around it. So when it comes to AI, you aren’t offloading your work; instead, you are downing so many Monsters and Red Bulls that you have a heart attack because that. You will use it to work too hard.
You need to have time not writing. Maximizing the mechanical act of writing is maximizing your own inefficiency, not efficiency — I remember watching this writer I knew, someone young and enthusiastic, on his way to becoming a great writer, completely sabotage himself, destroy any potential he had, because he got into this hustle culture bullshit.
He wrote a lot. But the arguments he made ended up making less and less sense. The articles just weren’t compelling. His apparent enthusiasm and wholesomeness failed to illustrate the point that most of his columns were being written because he was trying to keep up a certain pace and build a following, not because he had anything meaningful or creative to say.
I watched him attempt some writing at one point, insisting he could do it in a mere weekend, not only did the actors struggle with the writing, but the writing itself was of such poor quality that it all had to be thrown out. None of his creative work was in the project, so he tried to claim another writer’s work as his own and claim his credit had been changed and he was actually the brains behind it.
This happened because he was obsessed with producing a ton of work, quality be damned. Of course, he says the work has quality, and people buy it, but nearly everything he’s made is a pitch I made to him years ago.
At one point, this individual shared an article with me about a guy who made like $90k a year releasing $2 indie games. “We should be like that,” he told me, “and only hire contractors to do the things we can’t. That way, we can keep most of the money for ourselves.” Last I knew, that’s exactly what he was doing, like a talentless Hans Zimmer, farming work out to underpaid people and trying to convince people it was all his genius, even though everything he’s ever pitched is an idea he took from someone else. Dude’s just like an AI user.
He’s the kind of guy who would use AI if he didn’t think he’d get caught, so he underpays a bunch of contractors. He’d go on about what a hard worker he is, talk about his his work has meaning, but the bullshit’s so simple to cut through, which is probably why he’s got… a pretty bad reputation on the grapevine.
I just watch, sad at the potential he wasted, as he tells people his work is high quality even when it’s mostly just made for a quick buck with underpaid contractors and stolen ideas. He’s riding high now, just like those AI “novelists” who are making a few grand every month, but it won’t last. Never does.
Do you want to be like that, someone waiting for the other shoe to drop? Someone who’s overworking, overproducing, and releasing increasingly worse quality until your name has nothing to stand on? All AI will do is give you a free worker who can build more, and that work sucks. You’ll be working past your limits, unaware of what it costs you until it’s too late.
You won’t have customers. You won’t even have an audience.
At best, you’ll be Trip Hawkins, the guy who fucked up EA and then the 3DO, who was described by a former employee of his on a stream recently as “a guy who just wanted to make lots of bad games quickly because he thought that would make up for releasing good games with a reasonable amount of time.” There’s a reason he’s not exactly a beloved industry figure these days.
Why You’re Struggling to Write, Part 2: The Idea Is In The Wrong Place or You’re Focusing On The Wrong Idea
There’s that old phrase, “kill your darlings.” It’s so trite that it’s easy to forget the purpose and exact function of that tool. But, more importantly, there’s something that everyone forgets: sometimes you don’t have to kill the darling… sometimes, you just have to move it around.
So many times, writer’s block comes because your taste is screaming at you “hey!! you!!! this idea DOES NOT WORK!” but, since you want to do the idea so much, you end up in an impossible place where the story cannot progress, and what you need to do is either kill or move the idea.
I had a huge breakthrough on my next video game simply by realizing an incompatibility between two moments (and the respective character beats within those moments) existed, getting hung up on “but I like both of them and think they’re important,” and then splitting them in half and moving one to far later in the story. Now they don’t just work, they work better than when they were together.
Sometimes it takes time and energy to figure the idea out, but how do you do that?
Well, me? I personally view scenes as components making up a story, so I often move those scenes around to see how I can create a proper dramatic arc. Often, since I know what the dramatic arc’s beginning and end points need to be …then, hey, I can figure out “this emotion go here, this emotion go there, okay, now to build scenes that can achieve those goals.” If you build a scene because it’s, I don’t know, “in the genre,” you’ll often find it doesn’t work and be frustrated and that’ll foul up the story.
Another, very important skill you should develop: know how to end your story. writers who struggle the most with this kind of writer’s block often don’t. They start on a roadtrip, but without any goals, they just kind of meander aimlessly.
Ever notice how video games that are in development for five or ten years or whatever — and this is almost always indie because AAA people have profit motive and can’t waste time like that unless they’re Blizzard, and let’s face it, Diablo 3 wasn’t exactly worth the wait. They could have churned out a game just as good without wasting all the time trying to build a real money auction house — tend not to be particularly good? Like, it’s not “worth the wait,” it’s always a fucking waste of time.
There’s a few reasons for this — some guys are addicted to just posting cool gifs and getting the social media attention, others are tinkerers who just like messing around with the game, trying new things, but have no real plan — but the main one is “they don’t have a good idea of the whole story plotted out.”
One of the best teachers I ever had told some advice that’s absolutely crucial to any kind of art, from drawings to storytelling to movies to video games: no work of art is ever finished, but you do have to be done with it at some point.
So if the first cause of writer’s block is “AI can help me overwork myself to death to make derivative, uninteresting bullshit because all I care about is releasing a lot of work, not releasing quality work, no matter how much I insist this work is quality,” the second is “I am focusing on shit that doesn’t matter and not thinking about how to bring it to an ending,” or “I am too obsessed over an idea to make it work.”
You probably have great taste (“but I like bad shit” everyone with good taste likes some bad shit, and they know it’s bad, but even a gourmet needs a Twinkie from time to time), and you might not even know it’s actually trying to stop you from making a narrative mistake!
I originally wrote “writing something bad,” but, like I said, sometimes the idea is in the wrong place, which means the idea itself is good, so you’re not writing something bad, you’re writing something that simply needs to be reordered.
So you might be sitting there going “I have a bit I want to do, but it doesn’t work!” and spinning your wheels because you just need to move something. Even if it’s “out of the way for now,” it’s possible that your brain is telling you “don’t write this because it won’t work” deep, deep down in your gut.
Cut a chunk off, especially if it’s a part you like, back up from it, look at the whole thing, and try to rethink the scene in its entirety. Maybe you need to push it in another direction.
Generally, all of this comes down to being able to direct the story with feeling. Put the scenes in emotional order, like a song. You don’t repeat the chorus three times and then the verses, do you? Of course not. The intro, verse, bridge, chorus, all of that goes in a specific musical order. Your story works the same way.
Think about how Scene H in your story (assume we’re just alphabetizing them, so you’re a few scenes past the intro, a third of the way into your story) bleeds into Scene I. So many bad writers do scene I because “the genre has it,” or “I want to do the set piece,” but the scenes that work always have good setup and payoff. Horror, comedy, drama, you name it. It’s always setup and payoff.
So yeah, fuck around with figuring out the emotions. If you want to start “calm” and end “excited” then obviously you need scenes that build up the excitement. And you know that “doing what’s been done before” won’t be exciting, right? Or “if we hate this character in this scene because she stupidly stowed away on a ship and got her mentor killed after yelling some really stupid shit at the villain, the audience will likely not empathize with her being a moody teenager later,” which is a problem I just had with a big AAA game I’m playing.
This stupid kid didn’t listen and got a good character — one of the player characters from the last game — killed for stupid reasons. Why would anyone like her?
So, to solve this, and get past the writer’s block of “I need to come up with ideas for what comes next,” just break the story down into emotional needs, and you’ll realize sometimes a scene is simply in the wrong spot.
Finding the right spot is about linking the emotions correctly. Characters need reasons for taking action in the story, and the actions they take will have an emotional impact on the audience. So ask yourself: what emotion do I have going into this scene, and what emotion do I have going out of it? How does the next scene’s emotion match the scene I just ended with (sometimes it needs to be the same emotion, other times you need a contrasting emotion, but either way, you need to be intentional about the emotions each scene conjures).
Why You’re Struggling to Write, Part 3: You Need To Know How To Develop An Idea
A lot of people do not know how to take an idea from the first inspirational impulse to “an actual story.” This is why a lot of pros you see tend to use things like sticky notes to move story bits around. They come up with components and arrange them — oh hey look it’s Point 2 again — but developing ideas is also about taking those individual components and making them pop.
There’s lots of ways to do this. “Begin a scene as late as possible, end is as early as possible” is a pretty reliable one — I tend to go “your first idea is probably one you saw somewhere, so you might want to see if there are ways to build on the premise and take it in a new direction.” My buddy (and frequent co-writer) Phil’s got one that’s a a real close neighbor to that, which is “any idea you have should be taken at least twice as far as your instinct tells you.”
I also go with “okay, in movies, characters would do this in this situation, but these are people. What would you or I do here?” or “what kinda wrinkle can happen here?” and then I look for wrinkles I haven’t seen anyone do before.
“This is what other people would do, let’s see if there isn’t something I can do that’s both surprising but true to the characters” is probably the best way to make an engaging plot; if I can tell the audience what’s going to happen next in your story without having read ahead, the story probably isn’t there yet.
Once, I said “I’d like to see a zombie story that doesn’t have cannibals, religious people who think zombies are god’s punishment, or biker gangs in it,” and some very unimaginative dumbass got self-righteous and angry with me, insisting if we stopped ourselves from doing that, we’d have nothing left to do.
I told him I thought that was pretty foolish, and pitched a zombie idea using “don’t do those things” as a requirement. I came up with a story about people playing the last baseball game that would ever be played, a sort of one-act play about watching the world die. People fucking loved the premise, because, hey, it’s fresh and new!
You can’t do fresh and new if all you do is copy from the big boys. You’ve got to do something with it, and it’s dipping your toes into that side of development that’s gonna help you out.
There’s a reason we planned our next game, codenamed Waifu Death Squad, back in, like, May and June 2023, I think? Everything after that was just… sitting down and writing it. We still developed a ton of scenes, but because we knew “this scene needs to take place here,” or “their relationship hasn’t gone that far yet,” or “she can’t know this information yet, because we have to have that scene at just over half way into the story, and she can’t know until after that scene,” it made the actual act of sitting down and writing pretty doable.
We wrote a 300,000 word script — Game of Thrones is a 300,000 word novel, and screenwriting is a very different beast, so it’s a much longer story than that — in roughly one year. That’s crazy! But we were able to sit down and write nearly every day and not have to change much of anything — and we never hit serious writer’s block, only occasional “hey, this scene isn’t working for me, not sure why, would you take a crack at it?” stuff because we knew the entire structure of the story.
So, hey, outlining will help you, but figuring out how to structure your story to do the outline will save you from a ton of writer’s block. If you know what the scene you’re writing next is, then you’re gonna find it way easier to write! See how it’ll help with writer’s block?
Past you did a lot of the thinking for you! You know there’s a fight that needs to happen in the scene you’re writing today — that’s gonna tell you what the dialogue needs to look like. Boom. You’ve just lifted a weight off your own shoulders.
Why You’re Struggling to Write, Part 4: You Told Everyone Your Plans
Telling everyone your idea at the wrong time will kill your motivation. Why? Well, the basic science of human motivation here is that talking about an idea instead of executing it will result in killing your motivation and make you pretty miserable.
So it’s good to talk about ideas, but you should be writing them down too. Talk about what you’ve done, not what you’re planning, unless you’re planning to bring someone in on an idea or work through the idea with them.
Why You’re Struggling to Write, Part 5: You Need A Writing Partner
Writing with another human being does wonders because you can talk through an idea. Ever heard of the idea of a rubber duckie? Programmers sometimes need to talk through a problem, so they put a rubber duckie on their computer and explain the problem to the duckie. They talk it out. That helps them find a solution.
One of the best ideas in Waifu Death Squad happened because Kevin came up with an idea when trying something new, it didn’t quite work for me, but then Phil repeated what Kevin had done because he had an idea of what to do with it in another scene, and I sat there, and I went “but how could this happen in our script?” and then the answer presented itself to me.
The inspiration came from my cowriters, even though my solution itself was entirely novel. It solved a ton of issues we had that we didn’t even know were related, like “how does this character continue existing in the future? Her story kind of ends here” and stuff. It was great.
Bouncing off your peers will lead to amazing results, especially once you’ve figured each other out and can offer each other advice that really fuckin works. So. Hey. Maybe you need a writing partner or a rubber duckie.
Why You’re Struggling to Write, Part 6: The Hard Part
Adios, the last game I directed, was very hard to write, both because of what it’s really about what it was like to go through. When I was first working on those drafts, I was getting surgery to fix my jaw. I got Covid like… immediately after going to PAX in a wheelchair (that weekend was when I first heard “actually you probably shouldn’t travel,” but I had to travel home, and wouldn’t you know it, boom, I got COVID. And I’m already disabled — chronic pain, chronic fatigue syndrome, etc — so that made it even worse.
Writer’s block is rarely “I don’t have ideas.” It’s “I can’t get a story out to save my goddamn life.” If you don’t have ideas, then your problem is that you haven’t lived enough, which is why the people I see writer’s block in the most are young kids who only consume, like, Just Disney Products.
In that case it’s just “hey, you need to do more living. Take some cooking classes, learn how to launch model rockets, go to a place you haven’t been, eat some food you’ve not really tried before,” but I had some other shit going on.
It wasn’t just “trying to live alone and run a company and direct a game and be disabled all at the same time during a global pandemic,” because, you see, I was also being treated for post traumatic stress disorder. Before she passed, my friend Laur said that it likely would have been diagnosed as CPTSD outside USA, which is a form of PTSD that comes from systemic trauma, rather than a momentary one, like an explosion.
Not here to talk about the PTSD or what caused it, because it’s not important to the point that I’m making. What’s important is this: I sat down and actually did the mechanical action of writing Adios, editing it, and rewriting it, in about the span of… six weeks, right before I went and wrote a bunch of audio logs and worldbuilding for Hardspace: Shipbreaker. (Concrete the cat is mine, for instance. I did some stuff about some kind of god machine; I think they had other people write more of that, though, so you might find related stuff that I didn’t write).
And… that’s it. After that, I stopped writing. Both experiences were amazing (I told someone excitedly how Blackbird were treating me. He stopped, and then said, very slowly, “that’s how people are supposed to treat you, Doc.” I’d never been treated like that before. I broke down sobbing after that call. Like I said, PTSD is rough). Some Hollywood types asked me to pitch them Adios as a TV show, even though it’s a 90 minute long story that takes place during a single day, so I obliged them because, hey, man, I liked them. And I had An Idea.
But I wasn’t actually able to write much. Something in me had broken, pretty completely. I’d been writing prolifically before that, but Fall 2019 and Spring 2020 took everything I had left. I had some stories I was developing in my head, but actual fingers to keys, pen to paper? Nah, man. I couldn’t do it. So I asked my friend Phil to help, and he brought in his writing partner Kevin!
And, in 2021, after Adios shipped, we sat down and developed the television show and the game Adios 2, which is a very different story than Adios. One note I got on it was “this is too weird. make it weird, like Twin Peaks.” Everything else was glowing praise. Ultimately, we got passed on because “we want Adios 2 made as a game before we adapt it, to reduce risk.”
Ultimately, I don’t have the money to make Adios 2 as a game since it’s a big crime epic magical realist Max Payne-like that we’d been talking about off and on since about 2018, but hey, them’s the breaks. One day, I will get to make a surrealistically weird game about bullet time and shootdodging, just like I’ve been planning since forever, but that is not this day.
Like I said, there’s a reason we got a “this is too weird” note. Another one of our games in the same universe, is called Project D, and that game’s protagonist is literally a man with a Doberman head. it will literally never get adapted as a tv show unless someone with deep pockets and good taste shows up.
But on my own? On my own, I couldn’t write much, at least on a mechanical level. I did write a few short stories, and I developed a ton of work.
But nothing really major, because, hey, I’d been pretty fucked up by a whole lot of shit I’m not here to discuss.
We worked on a low budget horror movie pitch, we pitched a really fun tv show that started out as “can we show that we’re the people that should be directing the adaptation of Urasawa’s Monster?” and turned into something much, much weirder than that.
I can guarantee you this: you have literally never seen horror television before. Whatever you have seen that you would consider to be horror television is like drinking caffeine-free coca cola or thinking La Croix has much flavor or mayonnaise is spicy. You haven’t even seen the real fucking deal yet, and I can’t wait to show you… but I couldn’t write it on my own.
So between Fall of 2021 and Spring of 2023, nearly two full years, I didn’t write anything on my own. I planned out a ton of stuff. I wrote copious notes, I developed pitches and ideas; I was productive as hell, but unless I was in a room cowriting with people, I couldn’t actually get the scripts out anymore. After Hardspace, I was done, which is why it’ll be four years between Adios and Waifu Death Squad, rather than the two I was hoping for. All because I was dealing with some stuff.
I needed time to heal. And so I did. And it’s still a bit slow going, and the constant pressures of living while disabled are really really hard!! Losing Laur in February was really hard! Lots of things are really hard. I don’t even know how I’m still standing! But I became a better writer during that time, even if I wasn’t doing the mechanical part of writing, and was doing all the planning stuff.
Writer’s block doesn’t exist. But maybe, like me, you were injured and you need healing. Don’t beat yourself up for being unable to lift when you’ve got a broken arm. Heal up so you can lift again. Don’t injure yourself more by ripping the proverbial stitches out.
Don’t let AI be the thing that breaks you by empowering you to go far past your limits and destroy yourself. Besides, AI writing is super easy to spot because of how shit it is. You know what AI can’t do? It can’t ask what you mean, pushing you to clarify things that help you understand what you’re writing, the way another writer can. It won’t help you develop an idea based on something that occurred to it earlier this morning. It isn’t dealing with shit, so it can’t process shit.
An AI can only replicate preexisting stories. What did I say earlier in this thread about beginning writers? They’re the ones who need life experiences so they can be better writers? An AI can output the average words used in a romance to you, a writer can make you feel it, because a writer has lived it.
An AI for writing is just a really sophisticated word cloud that doesn’t just show frequency, but also positions the words. Since it can’t want anything, and because it has never experienced anything, it is incapable of writing anything that can compel anyone to do anything.
Adios stuck with you because I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling. I wanted every ounce of turmoil in there for you to share with me.
So yeah. Don’t use AI to ‘help’ you write. Not only will it fail to give you anything meaningful, but the only way for you to come up with ideas is to spend time not writing. For me, it was, hey, trauma. For you, maybe it’s burnout or fatigue or health or anything else. That’s okay. You are okay.
The machine will only give you writing you can’t even say you wish you hadn’t written ’cause it did the writing for you. It’s not your writing, after all. So what’s the fucking point?
Anyways: take care of your body, nourish your soul with life experience. Go outside your comfort zone. Learn how to develop ideas. Rest when you need it. Consume as much art as you can, at a bare minimum, especially not stuff you’d normally see that suits your tastes. Check out things you think you’ll hate; that’s how I found La Strada, one of my favorite movies, a movie that fills me with passion and joy and despair and understanding all at once. Try to learn about shit you don’t know.
Over the years, I’ve written a million articles where I’ve said something along the lines of “you need a well stocked pantry if you are going to make a delicious meal.” Phil describes it similarly, as a kind of soup. You need ingredients.
Writer’s block is not a condition, it’s a symptom. You need to take care of yourself. You need nourishment and sustenance. If you’re experiencing writer’s block, something needs to change. Start by taking care.
Hey, I could use some help with medical bills and groceries. If you want to support the work I do, like this article about the biggest pitfall young writers face and how to get around it, then hey, hit up my tip jar. One of my diabetes meds is $869, one of them is $375.
I figure this kind of writing helps inexperienced writers the most — which means people who might not have the finances to afford my work if I kept it behind a paywall. A paywall would help me, obviously — I could guarantee a certain minimum that would ensure my ability to continue writing these articles — but the people who need my help the most cannot afford it. So I gotta rattle the tip jar. I know it’s not pleasant, but like… think of me like a busker. I’d rather play a song on the street and get a few coins in a hat than just run a gofundme or something.
I, personally, can only do this with your support; if I wasn’t doing this, I’d have to get a second job, and as disabled as I am, that’s really not great. I have to spend between $160 and up to an entire Nintendo Switch’s worth of my income on medical care every two weeks. That’s an extremely difficult burden for me.
AND NOW THE FUCKERS WANT ME ON SOMETHING THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO AFFORD AND MY INSURANCE DEDUCTIBLE DOESN’T KICK IN UNTIL I SPEND $7,500 BEING DISABLED FUCKIN SUCKS, DUDE! I’m trying not to freak out, but fuck the medical system in America, man.
So it’s either do this or get a second job, and a second job would not be ideal given my current disability. So when you send me a tip, you’re not just helping a disabled writer like me, you’re helping tons of students, disabled people, and others without access. Thank you.
paypal.me/stompsite
ko-fi.com/stompsite
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