Raised Letters reads the book you are writing and remembers all of it. Every chapter, every character, every thread you opened. Then it gives you the notes a good editor would give you, on the book you are actually writing.
It helps me finish. It doesn’t write my book.
The feedback is shaped to your book. Your style guide, your world and its invented words, the editor you chose to read through. It arrives pinned to the exact line it is about, so working through it is part of writing rather than a separate job.
And it stops there. It does not generate prose for you and it does not edit your book behind you. It puts the problem in front of you and hands you what you need to solve it: a conversation with something that has read the whole manuscript, your own sentence shown built another way, the technique named so you can use it again. The solving is yours, which is the part worth keeping.
Novelists and memoirists, whether you have a finished draft or a first chapter.
If you are deep in a manuscript, the value is memory. Remembering what you did in chapter four while you are working on chapter thirty. Knowing whether the thread you opened ever closed. A second read of prose you have looked at so many times you can no longer see it.
If you are starting out, it is somewhere to build the book as you go. Write in the chapter editor with your story bible and style guide beside the work. Plan characters and plot threads before they exist on the page, and the app reconciles that plan against what you actually write, so you can see where the book has drifted from the one you meant to write.
And you can just ask. Writing Buddy is the conversation side of it, and it knows your book. Ask what a note means, argue with it, ask how other novelists have handled the problem you are stuck on. It works the problem through with you until you can see it, rather than handing you a fix. Figuring it out yourself is worth far more than a replacement paragraph, because you keep it.
What every one of those has in common is that the writing stays yours. That is the part we built the whole thing around.
We built a tool that reads rather than one that writes, and that single choice shapes everything else about it.
A tool that writes for you has to be fluent. A tool that reads for you has to be accurate, and it has to be careful with the only copy of something you spent years on. That is a much more interesting engineering problem, and it is the one we wanted. It is why the passes propose rather than act, why every edit is anchored to the exact span it was written for, and why the analysis is rebuilt from your chapters rather than kept as a second copy that can quietly go out of date.
It will happily draft the things around the book. A synopsis, a query letter, a story bible, an editorial letter. Those are working documents built from your manuscript, and they are useful precisely because they are not the novel.
A copy editor, a line editor and a continuity reader are different people doing different jobs. No good publishing process asks one of them to do all of it at once, and neither does this. Four passes, kept separate on purpose.
Grammar, spelling, punctuation, typos, the word you used twice. Proposed as tracked changes. It knows your invented words from your story bible and will not correct them into real ones, but it will catch it when you have spelled one two different ways.
The line editor read. Echoes, adverbs doing a verb’s job, four sentences in a row with the same shape, prose that stops to explain its own meaning, a place described like a travel brochure. It changes nothing. It leaves notes in the margin, each one anchored to the exact words it is talking about.
Not a check. Nothing it finds is an error. It looks for the handful of sentences where the plainest shape arrived first and got kept, and shows you the same sentence built another way, with the construction named so you can reach for it again. You copy a version you like, or you do not.
The fact check against everything that came before. A detail contradicting an earlier chapter, a timeline that does not add up, a character acting on something nobody told them. It reports and never rewrites. This is the one job you would never want done automatically.
Alongside the four sits Writing Buddy, which is not a pass at all. It is a conversation with something that has read your manuscript, and it handles the work no line-level check can do: whether a scene has a job, whether the book pays off what a chapter promised, whether a scene sits in the right place. You choose the editorial lens it reads through, from genre editors to an author whose sensibility you name yourself.
Each pass is told where in your book it is standing. Everything before this chapter has happened. Everything after has not, and neither your characters nor your reader know any of it. Without that you get the failure everyone has seen from AI feedback: your central mystery confidently flagged as a plot hole.
You upload a draft, or you start writing in it.
Ten minutes on what the editor actually does, using a real manuscript.
No. It does not generate chapters, scenes or plot for you. It reads what you have written and gives you notes, and where it proposes a change to your words you accept or reject that change yourself. The writing stays yours.
It reads your manuscript and remembers it. From that it produces chapter summaries, a story bible, a character arc map and a plot thread map, and it runs four editing passes: copy edit, prose check, sentence craft and continuity check. It also drafts a developmental editorial letter, a synopsis and a query letter, all from your own material.
No. Every proposed edit is shown as a tracked change you accept or reject one at a time. Accepted changes are patched into your original text at exact positions and checked against the words they expected to find. If anything has shifted, the edit is refused rather than forced. Your chapter is never rebuilt from what the model returned.
No. Your manuscripts and creative content are not used to train models, by us or by our model provider. This is also stated in our terms of service.
Your chapter text is encrypted at rest with AES-256-GCM using a key derived per user, so chapter content cannot be read from the database alone. Derived analysis such as chapter summaries and margin notes is stored in plain text. We would rather tell you exactly where the line sits than describe the whole thing as encrypted.
There is no third-party analytics or advertising code anywhere inside the writing app. The only marketing tag we run is on our public marketing pages, which is deliberate and separate from the editor.
Yes, at any time. Export to Word or PDF in trade, mass market, submission or ebook formats, with your front and back matter assembled around the manuscript.
There is a 30-day free trial with no card required. Paid plans start at $12 a month for Author, which includes every feature. The higher plans differ only in monthly usage allowance.
Thirty days free. No card. Upload your draft and run a read on a chapter you already know is not working.
Start the 30 day trialPlans start at $12 a month. Every plan includes every feature.
For writers who love the work.