Trusted by Publishers,
Loved by Authors

A publisher working in a right-to-left (RTL) language faced a familiar problem: most editorial AI tools assume left-to-right text flow and Western typographic conventions. Their existing workflow felt cobbled together, with localization gaps that slowed production and frustrated editors.

Authors working in English come from everywhere. Some write from London, others from Dublin, still others from Berlin or Barcelona. They share a language but not always a publisher, not always a market.

Academic writing carries its own demands. Citation formats that vary by discipline. Style guides that differ across journals. Reference handling that can consume hours per paper.

A genre publisher releases ten to twelve titles monthly. Romance, fantasy, thrillers—each with its own conventions, each on deadline. Their in-house editorial team was stretched thin. Quality varied. Deadlines slipped.

Inspirational and devotional publishing presents a particular challenge. The content carries theological weight. Readers trust it. Authors have spent years developing their voice, their way of speaking to their audience.

Our early assumption was simple: build for English first, figure out the rest later. The right-to-left language publisher taught us otherwise. Since then, we've expanded support incrementally—German, Spanish, and others—learning each time that language support means more than translation.

A small independent publisher needed to scale without losing what made their books distinctive. Their head of books had spent decades developing an editorial sensibility—one that couldn't be captured in a style sheet but showed up in every margin note.

A policy research organisation produces dozens of briefs each year. Topics range from climate finance to international relations, each written by different specialists. The challenge: maintaining a consistent editorial standard across wildly different subject matter.

Cookbooks are deceptively complex. Recipes require precision—measurements, temperatures, timing—but the headnotes need warmth. A regional cuisine cookbook added another layer: ingredients unfamiliar to international readers, techniques that assume knowledge the audience lacks.

A major museum wanted to make its collection accessible to children. Not dumbed down, but simplified. The distinction matters. Young readers deserve accurate information; they just need it delivered differently.

Editing a short story collection differs from editing a novel. Each story is complete; the collection creates meaning through arrangement and echo. The editor's job involves both: making each piece stronger while preserving what connects them.

Word counts exist for reasons. Print costs money. Readers have limits. A memoir delivered 40,000 words over contract. The author loved every sentence, and cutting felt like self-harm.