Every writing tool is racing to shove AI into your draft. Galley is going the other way, deliberately. It’s a line in the philosophy, not a roadmap gap, and it’s the decision I’m most sure about in the whole product.

What Galley’s tools actually do

They count and check. That’s it.

  • Overused words per thousand, so you can see the crutch you lean on, located by chapter.
  • The one misspelled character name sitting among the correct ones.
  • Margins, page counts, KDP preflight against the store’s rules.

Notice what’s missing: none of these write a sentence, rewrite a sentence, or suggest a “better” one. They hand you information and get out of the way. The writing stays yours because the software never touches it.

Why the line is absolute

Three reasons, and they’re the whole argument.

Your voice drifts toward the model. The moment a tool offers to “improve” your sentence, you start accepting the smoother, blander, more average version, because it’s right there and it’s easy. Do that for 90,000 words and the book sounds like the model, not like you. Your voice is the one thing a reader can’t get anywhere else, and it’s the first casualty of assisted writing.

Your manuscript becomes training data. Most AI writing features send your words to a server, and a lot of them reserve the right to train on what you send. Your unpublished novel, the thing you haven’t even sold yet, quietly becomes someone else’s dataset. Hard no.

Authorship gets murky. If a model wrote a third of your sentences, who wrote the book? That’s not a fun philosophy-seminar question when it’s your name on the cover and, increasingly, when a store asks you to disclose AI use. The cleanest answer is the true one: you wrote all of it.