Muse
The gap between sessions
A therapist finishes with a client. Seven minutes before the next one. In that window, they need to tighten notes, add clinical justification, maybe restructure into SOAP format. Five clients a day, five sets of notes, five windows that never feel long enough.
Muse started with that friction. Not the writing, but the overhead of asking for help.
Highlight, don't prompt
You highlight a sentence. A floating pill menu appears inline. Make clinical, condense, soften tone. One tap, edit in place. No sidebar, no chat window, no blank prompt box.
Most edits aren't creative decisions. They're mechanical. "Make this sound clinical." The interface should match that energy. I built this with Tiptap and a custom floating menu that tracks selection in real time, so it feels like part of the editor.
Scoped edits, not global rewrites
When AI rewrites an entire document, people lose their footing. In clinical documentation, that's not just uncomfortable. It's a liability. Therapists need to stand behind every word.
So edits in Muse are scoped. Select a section, make a request, only that section changes. A word-level diff preview, green for accepted changes, red for rejected changes, lets you see precisely what changed before accepting. It turns AI editing from a leap of faith into a controlled action.
Prompts that learn your rhythm
The same SOAP restructure. The same "add clinical justification." Five times a day, across different clients. Clinical documentation has patterns. So I made prompts saveable. Write one once, pin it, one-tap from then on. Instead of the user adapting to the AI, the tool adapts to them. Repetition becomes velocity.
Voice for the in-between moments
Between sessions, hands are organizing papers, pulling up files, pouring coffee. Typing isn't always available. But the mind is already composing the edit. Voice input bridges that gap. Say what you want changed, it becomes an edit instruction. Hands-free, matched to the physical reality of a clinician's workflow.
Tabs for the way work actually moves
A therapist might be halfway through editing one client's note when they need to check something from yesterday's session with someone else. That's just how the work flows. So each client's note gets its own tab. You can jump between them without losing your place, your edits, or your train of thought.
What I took away
Most of these ideas haven't been tested with real therapists yet. But from observing how they work and from conversations with them, I'm confident these features would be game changers. The amount of time therapists spend cleaning up notes, making them insurance compliant, restructuring into the right format. It adds up fast. And right now, a lot of that work feels harder than it needs to be.
Muse wasn't about adding more AI to the process. It was about making the editing part feel so light that therapists can actually use those seven minutes between sessions for what matters. Faster notes, less friction, and a little more breathing room in an already packed day.