A markdown editor that writes back.
Single file open at a time. A right-side colleague when you want one. ⌘K when you don't.
By Tuesday I had two paragraphs and an outline that disagreed with itself. What I had was a beginning and an ending pretending to know each other.
Ask for a rewrite. Read the diff. Accept what you like.
A colleague in the right rail, your draft on the left, the diff in between.
The town did not produce poets, but every spring it produced something like one — a teacher, a postal clerk, a man who fixed bicycles — who would, for one season, write small bright sentences on the back of receipts and tell no one.
It was a strange tradition, It was a quiet inheritance, passed wordlessly between people who had nothing else in common. who otherwise shared nothing.
The agent receives your selection plus surrounding context — never the whole document, never your full project tree.
Select a sentence. Press ⌘K. Tell mused what to do.
No chat thread, no panel — a small box right above the line you're working on. Stream the rewrite in place; press ⌘↵ to keep it.
By Tuesday I had two paragraphs and an outline that disagreed with itself. What I had was a beginning and an ending pretending to know each other.
Wednesday felt longer. Thursday I gave up and went for a walk.
⌘K floats over the editor — same shadow recipe, hairline border, no backdrop blur.
A short, opinionated list — so we don't waste your trial.
- a single file open at a time
- an editor that toggles between source and preview
- a colleague in the right rail when you want one
- your markdown — on disk, in a folder, in plain text
- macOS-native chrome and macOS-native shortcuts
- a Notion-style workspace
- a vault, a graph, a back-link engine
- a chat product that happens to edit text
- a sync service or a cloud database
- a place that wants your draft history forever
Three things we got tired of, and decided to fix.
For years we used markdown editors that grew sidebars, then tab strips, then plugin marketplaces with personalities of their own. The window got busier; the writing didn't get better. mused is one window with one file in it — the same shape a typewriter made for sixty years, with a model in the next room when you actually want one.
We watched AI features get bolted onto editors that weren't built for them. The improve button that improves nothing. The chat panel with no idea what's on screen. The completion that finishes the wrong sentence. mused was built around its agent from the first commit — selection-aware, ⌘K-summoned, dismissed in a single keystroke. The editor stays foreground; the agent stays useful.
Most markdown editors don't really believe in markdown. They store your work in a proprietary format and offer markdown as an export. They sync to a vault you can't read with TextEdit. They want a database, not a file. mused writes plain .md to a folder you choose, in the same syntax John Gruber published in 2004. If we disappear tomorrow, your archive doesn't.
It's the editor for the second draft.
First drafts come out fast and a little ugly, and most editors handle that fine. The hard part is the pass after — when you reread paragraph three for the fortieth time and can't tell whether it's lazy, tired, or actually saying what you meant. mused was built for that pass. ⌘K opens a small box scoped to the selection; you ask it the kind of question you'd ask a careful reader, in plain English, and the answer comes back in the registers your prose already lives in.
The second draft is where the writing happens. Beta writers have used mused for weeknight essays, engineering specs, postmortems, condolence notes, plain-text journals, and the kind of letter you'd put in an envelope. The agent doesn't know which one you're working on and doesn't need to — it reads the paragraph in front of it and tries to be useful. Quietly, on the cadence you set, in the voice you've already got.
See it on a paragraph of your own