Most writers use Microsoft Word. Or Google Docs. Or Scrivener, if they're serious about the craft. They save files with names like `Chapter3FINALv2ACTUALLY_FINAL.docx`. They email drafts to themselves as backups. They lose work when their laptop dies.
I'm a software engineer. I have opinions about this.
My manuscript lives in a folder. Each chapter is a separate file. The files are plain text, written in Markdown—the same format developers use for documentation. No proprietary formats. No software lock-in. Files I could open on any computer, in any decade.
The folder structure is simple:
``` chapters/ 00-prologue.md 01-the-return.md 02-the-council.md ... ```
That's it. No complicated project files. No databases. Just folders and text.
When I want to find every scene where a character appears, I search across files the way I'd search a codebase. When I want to see how a motif has evolved, I grep for it. When I need to restructure, I rename files and the numbers keep everything in order.
Writers who use Word keep everything in one massive document, or juggle dozens of files with no system. They scroll endlessly and lose track of scenes. They can't search properly because Word's search is terrible.
Plain text in folders solves all of this.
But the real power is version control.
Every change I make gets committed to git—the same system that tracks changes in every serious software project in the world. Every sentence I've ever written is preserved. Every revision, every abandoned draft.
I can see exactly what a chapter looked like three months ago. I can compare versions side by side. I can branch off to try a different direction, then merge it back or throw it away.
When I cut a scene, I don't lose it. It's in the history. When I regret a change, I can undo it—not just the last change, but any change, from any point in time.
Most writers live in fear of losing work. They save obsessively. They create backup copies. They still lose things.
I haven't lost a word since I started. I never will.
I write in Zed, a code editor built for developers.
This might sound strange. Why use a programming tool for prose? But the experience is remarkably good.
The interface is minimal. No ribbon of buttons, no formatting distractions. Just text and the words. Markdown syntax highlights gently—headers stand out, emphasis is visible—but it never gets in the way.
I can open the entire manuscript at once, switching between chapters in tabs. I can split the view to reference one scene while writing another. I can search and replace across every file in the project.
And it's fast. Instantaneous in a way Word never is. No lag. No spinning wheels. The tool disappears, and there's just the writing.
Word processors are designed for documents—memos, reports, things meant to be printed. They're not designed for manuscripts. The features that make them good at formatting get in the way of composition.
A code editor is designed for working with text. Just text. That's all a manuscript is.
There's something else, too. Something harder to explain.
When I sit down to write, I'm using the same tools I use for my day job. The same editor. The same git commands. The same muscle memory.
This does something to my brain. It makes writing feel like work I know how to do. Not some mysterious creative act that I might fail at, but a craft—like building software. A thing made of small pieces, assembled carefully, tested, revised.
Engineers have a saying: good tools don't make you good, but they remove obstacles. They let you focus on the problem instead of fighting the environment.
That's what these tools do for my writing. They get out of the way. They let me focus on the words.
I'm not saying every writer should learn git. The learning curve is real. If Word works for you, use Word.
But if you've ever lost a draft, or struggled to track changes, or wished you could search your manuscript properly—there are better tools. They're free. They're powerful. They've been refined by decades of software development.
The same tools that build the systems running the world can build a novel.
I find that oddly comforting.