Is Galley for you?

Most software pages are written to convince you. I'd rather sort you. Galley has enough opinions baked in that it's either a really good fit for you or a poor one.

Galley is for you if…

• You're writing a novel. Fiction, book-length, meant to be read on paper and on e-readers. That is the entire audience, and every screen in the app assumes it.
• You want the finished book to look typeset, not exported. Six named trim sizes, thirty-five book typefaces, mirrored margins, running heads, a justified and hyphenated print PDF. The conventions of book interiors, handled correctly by default, and visible while you write rather than after an import.
• You publish yourself, submit to agents, or both. One manuscript exports a KDP-ready print interior, store-tuned EPUBs, and a Times-double-spaced submission package, without reformatting anything in between.
• You keep a story bible. Characters, places, timeline, glossary, a style sheet, all beside the manuscript, in the same tabs, exported with it. Not a wiki in a second app you stopped updating last March.
• You sit down at more than one machine. Galley runs in the browser and therefore works on Mac, Windows, Linux, and any other OS with a browser. The same app, always current. Nothing to install, nothing to keep in sync.
• You'd rather pay once. A novel doesn't arrive on a monthly schedule, so I don't bill on one.
• You write slowly, and don't want software commenting on it. There are no sprint timers and no confetti. Goals exist if you set them.

Galley is not for you if…

• You're writing anything that isn't a novel. Screenplays, dissertations, blogs, cookbooks, picture books. Other tools serve those well. I deliberately don't.
• Your plotting happens on a corkboard. Index cards, beat sheets, coloured string. Scrivener and Plottr take that seriously. Galley gives you a timeline, per-chapter synopses and stages, and stops there. If visual plotting is the centre of how you work, you'll be happier with them, and it isn't close.
• You want a writing-sprint timer. Atticus has one. I think a novel can't be rushed, and built the software that way.
• You want AI drafting your sentences. Much of the market is racing to add exactly that. I've committed to not. If a co-writing model is the appeal, this is the wrong shop.
• You draft on your phone. There is no mobile app, and there won't be one. You can always import content in from your notes app, however Galley itself is only available on screens larger than a phone.
• You want themed interiors. Vellum's decorative themes are the benchmark here. Galley sets classic book conventions instead of shipping a theme library. If the themes are what you're buying, buy them.
• You write with someone else in the document. Real-time co-writing, shared cursors, live edits, is Google Docs and Reedsy Studio territory, not mine. I'm considering working on some form of collaboration for translations, contributions, and editing, but it isn't towards the goal of multi-author publishing.
• You want a Markdown app that syncs across Apple devices. Ulysses is lovely at exactly that, and if iCloud and plain text are how you think, it will suit you better than I will.
• You want goals, streaks and a friendly monthly plan. Dabble is built around momentum and does it well. I charge once and stay quiet while you write, which is the opposite trade.
• You need to work fully offline, everywhere, today. Scrivener is the gold standard there and has been for twenty years. Galley writes offline too, but it's Beta. The honest status is on the offline writing page.

Which half of publishing you're in

The two routes out of a finished draft need different things from the same book, so there's a page for each: if you're publishing it yourself, and if you're querying agents. Plenty of people read both, in that order or the other one.

If you're between the two lists

The comparison pages go tool by tool, facts first, including the places rivals beat me. And the sandbox settles what a page can't: the full app, a seeded book, thirty minutes, no signup. Half an hour of actual writing will tell you more than I can.