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The Toolbox in action

See the Toolbox in action.

Real notes from all eight coach tools, run on three original sample chapters and shown exactly as they came back. Pick a tool, then click any note to find the line it is about.

  • Every note quotes the line it is about
  • Original sample pages, written for testing
  • 7-day money-back guarantee on your first subscription

i.The Coach tab

Eight coaches. One job each.

Each tool reads for one craft problem and quotes the lines it is talking about. The same page reads differently through each lens, so the eight tools share three sample chapters.

Line Critique

Selection of 770 words · 2 credits in the desk

Real output

The Salt Ledger · Chapter 3: Three Bells

Story notes: Romantasy (adult) · Third person limited, Tamsin · Past tense

The bells of the Tithe House were ringing when Tamsin Harrow reached the top of the stairs, and she felt a wave of dread wash over her. Three bells meant a binding. Three bells meant someone in the lower city was about to sign away something they could not afford to lose. She saw the envoy before he saw her. He was standing at the long table with his back to the windows, and the grey light off the marsh made him look carved rather than born. Corin Vael was arrogant and cold, the kind of man who had never once been told no and would not know what to do with the word if he heard it. “You’re late,” he drawled lazily. “The tide was in,” Tamsin snapped angrily. “Some of us walk.” “Some of you,” he purred, “should learn to read a tide table.” She clenched her fists. She was furious. She made herself unclench them, one finger at a time, the way her mother had taught her to before a binding, because anger made the ink run. The salt ink was already laid out on the table. She noticed that it had been poured into the old pewter well, the one with the crack along its lip, and she realized that someone had wanted her to see it. Salt ink did not forgive. A contract written in it held for exactly as long as both parties kept their word, and the moment one of them broke it, the letters burned white into the breaker’s skin. Tamsin had seen a man lose three fingers to a debt of eleven silver crowns. She had been nine. “Sit,” Corin said. “I’ll stand.” “Then stand,” he chuckled darkly. “It makes no difference to the Court whether the binder’s knees are comfortable.” She heard the scratch of a quill somewhere behind the screen at the far end of the room. A clerk, probably. The Court never sent an envoy without a witness, and never sent a witness it trusted. Tamsin felt nervous as she pulled the tithe roll toward her. It was heavier than it looked, as they always were, the vellum thick with the names of every family in the lower city who owed the Court a year of service. She could see the columns of names blurring together. Brewers. Net-menders. A family of chandlers she had bought candles from all her life. She was sad about the chandlers. “You don’t have to read all of it,” Corin said quietly. “Only the names marked in red.” “I read all of it,” she hissed. “That’s the job.” “The job,” he breathed, “is to bind what the Court asks you to bind.” She looked up at him then. His eyes were the color of the marsh at dusk, and there was something in them she did not like, something that looked almost like pity. She realized he knew something she didn’t, and she felt suspicious. She turned the page. The red names began halfway down. Orrin Fisk. Della Mott. The Pell twins, who could not have been more than fourteen. Tamsin ran her finger down the column, steady, steady, until it stopped of its own accord, because her hand had read the name before her eyes would agree to. Bram Harrow. Her brother. Her brother, who was nineteen and stupid and kind, who still fed the gulls on the seawall with bread they could not spare, who had sworn to her on their mother’s grave that he had paid the Court in full last spring. The room was very quiet. Tamsin felt shocked and betrayed and terrified all at once. “There’s been a mistake,” she said. “There has,” Corin agreed. He set a second sheet of vellum beside the roll, and she saw that it was already written in salt ink, the letters faintly smoking where the light touched them. “Your brother borrowed against his tithe. Twice. The second time, he signed for you.” “He wouldn’t.” “He did.” Corin’s voice was gentler now, and somehow that was worse. “The Court is willing to accept a substitute. It usually is.” Tamsin understood then what the cracked inkwell was for. Her mother’s inkwell. The one she had sold to pay for the burial. Someone had bought it back, and carried it across the marsh, and set it out on this table so that she would know, before anyone said a word, exactly how long they had been planning this. “Who?” she asked. Corin smiled, and it was not a kind smile. “Sit down, Miss Harrow,” he said softly. “This is going to take a while.”

8 notes, 2 strengths

The tool’s summary

The line-level voice has strong cadence and atmospheric images that bind character, setting, and tension, especially around the reveal. The main lifts come from trimming filter words and adverb-heavy tags, and from swapping abstract, stacked emotions and familiar phrases for specific, embodied reactions. Addressing those habits will sharpen immediacy and let the excellent beats you already have carry the scene’s power.

Note 1 of 8

1Minor

Cliché phrasing paired with a filter verb at an opening beat.

Why it matters
A familiar construction blunts the first impression and makes the voice feel less specific just as the scene is trying to hook the reader.
Try this
Trade the stock image for a sensation or thought pattern that belongs to Tamsin in this city, or let an external cue stand in so the dread is inferred without being named.

The notes this tool returned on an original sample passage, unedited. AI feedback can be wrong, and in the desk you can dismiss any note. Your own pages get notes of their own.

ii.The Generate tab

A separate place for when you’re stuck.

Beside the Coach tab, six Generate tools brainstorm, outline, sketch a character, draft a rough scene, continue from the cursor or offer two rewrites of a passage. Generated text appears in the panel, never in your manuscript, unless your project is in Co-writer mode and you choose to insert it.

Here is a real Brainstorm run on the thriller sample: the writer selected the chapter and asked what could happen next.

Brainstorm

Generate tab · 1 credit in the desk

Real output

The writer selected Clean Letter, Chapter 7 (685 words) and asked

Nell is about to go through the stairwell door with three people behind her. I don't want the obvious chase. What could happen next?

  1. Idea 1: Alarmed stairwell

    Nell hits the push bar and a deafening alarm howls across P3, forcing the three men to hesitate and making Ruiz flinch, buying her a public moment and raising the risk they’ll have to explain themselves to building security.

  2. Idea 2: Maintenance shield

    The stairwell door swings open and two maintenance workers with a dolly step out; Nell wedges herself between them and keeps talking like she belongs there, forcing the grey jacket and Ruiz to either back off or make a scene in front of witnesses.

  3. Idea 3: On-mic deterrent

    Nell thumbs her phone’s camera, holds it high, and narrates—time, place, Ruiz at the fourteenth pillar, grey jacket thirty yards back—so anyone watching later will know who was here, pushing the trio into negotiation instead of a grab.

  4. Idea 4: Decoy and drop

    As she pushes through the EXIT, Nell palms a spare USB from her bag to flash later and slips the real drive under the silver Camry’s rear plate with a fingernail, forcing Ruiz to decide if he’ll risk searching cars while she controls the clock.

  5. Idea 5: Pull the fire

    Nell slaps the red pull station by the door and the stuttering siren brings lights and the promise of cameras and responders, cornering Ruiz between the people he works for and the kind of attention Calder Freight does not want.

  6. Idea 6: Ruiz’s crack

    Ruiz grabs Nell’s arm for show then leans in and whispers he can stall them if she gives him a name to trade; if she feeds him a lie, she risks burning an ally, and if she tells the truth, she narrows her own exits.

  7. Idea 7: Security wedge

    A building security guard hustles down from P2, drawn by the earlier car alarm, and asks what’s going on; Nell reports attempted coercion at the blue-striped pillar, forcing the men in the grey jackets to present a cover story and putting Ruiz on the spot.

  8. Idea 8: Dead-man’s clock

    Nell says the drive’s contents already auto-uploaded and a scheduled email to a reporter goes out in five minutes unless she cancels from her phone, turning the scene into a negotiation against a ticking clock and pitting Ruiz’s fear for his daughter’s tuition against the timer.

  9. Idea 9: Wrong side of help

    The man in the grey jacket calls Nell by name and cites her SEC work on Halvorsen, saying they’re here to take her to “discuss compliance” on Calder’s behalf and claiming Ruiz set this meet to keep her safe, shifting the threat into a more claustrophobic corporate containment play.

  10. Idea 10: Third party smash

    A sedan from P2 fishtails down the ramp and clips a pillar near Ruiz, showering concrete dust; someone else has found the meet, and in the confusion Nell has to decide whether to use the chaos to vanish or to grab Ruiz and force him to choose a side.

The ideas this tool returned, unedited. Generated text stays in the panel. It goes into a manuscript only if the project is in Co-writer mode and the writer inserts it, and then it is marked and recorded.

Run them on your own pages.

Every tool, every chapter, with your story notes in mind. The rewriting stays yours.

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The examples on our tool pages are real notes the tools returned on original sample passages we wrote. They are stored with the page: viewing them, or clicking through them, sends nothing to an AI model. Our AI promise