scriveno 2.0.5

package/data/demo/.manuscript/BRIEF.md

@@ -0,0 +1,37 @@
+# Creative Brief
+
+## Project
+
+The Watchmaker's Daughter -- a literary short story in five scenes.
+
+## Core decisions
+
+- **Tone:** Melancholic, hopeful. Quiet prose that trusts the reader.
+- **Audience:** Adult literary fiction readers. People who read Marilynne Robinson, Elizabeth Strout, Kazuo Ishiguro.
+- **Length target:** ~5,000 words across five scenes (~800--1,200 words each).
+- **Core question:** Can a lifetime of lost time be wound back?
+- **Emotional arc:** From closed-off solitude to fragile, uncertain hope.
+
+## Voice direction
+
+Close third person, past tense. Intimate but not intrusive -- the narrator sits inside Elias's head but does not explain his feelings. Emotions are rendered through physical sensation, gesture, and object. The prose should feel handmade, like something built with care and patience.
+
+## What this story is NOT
+
+- Not sentimental. The reunion is not a Hollywood embrace. It is two strangers in a room, uncertain of everything.
+- Not plot-driven. Nothing explodes. The drama is internal: a man deciding whether to pick up a pen.
+- Not clever. No tricks, no unreliable narrator, no twist ending. Just a human being choosing to be brave.
+
+## Key creative constraints
+
+- Elias is mostly alone. Dialogue is sparse until the final scene.
+- Every scene must include at least one clock or time-related image.
+- The workshop is both a literal place and a metaphor -- use it both ways.
+- Salt air, tidal rhythms, and the sound of mechanisms should create a consistent sensory texture.
+
+## Success looks like
+
+A reader finishes the story and sits with it for a moment before moving on. The last image -- the clock changing hands -- stays.
+
+---
+*This brief captures the creative intent. Return here when making voice or structural decisions.*

package/data/demo/.manuscript/CHARACTERS.md

@@ -0,0 +1,90 @@
+# Characters
+
+*One entry per character. Each character gets a voice anchor that drafter agents use for dialogue consistency.*
+
+---
+
+## Elias Voss
+
+**Role:** Protagonist
+**Age:** 68
+**Physical:** Tall, slightly stooped. Silver hair kept short. Large, precise hands with permanent calluses from decades of fine work. Wears reading glasses on a cord. Moves slowly, deliberately -- a man who measures twice. Favors wool sweaters and corduroy, even in summer.
+
+### Want and need
+- **Wants (conscious):** To be left in peace. To keep his days predictable and contained.
+- **Needs (unconscious):** Connection. To know that his life has mattered to someone beyond the mechanism on the workbench.
+- **Internal lie:** "It's too late to be a father."
+- **Truth they must learn:** Love doesn't follow a schedule. Some clocks can be restarted.
+
+### Arc
+- **Starting state:** Sealed off. Elias has made solitude into a craft -- each day identical, each hour accounted for. He mistakes numbness for contentment.
+- **Turning points:** The letter (disruption), the workshop descent (confrontation with the past), the pier decision (choosing to respond), the clock repair (building toward hope).
+- **Ending state:** Open, fragile. Not healed, not reconciled -- but present. Sitting across from his daughter with a ticking clock between them.
+
+### Voice anchor
+*5-line dialogue sample showing how this character speaks. Drafter agents load this when drafting scenes with this character.*
+
+"It's a carriage clock. 1890s. French, I think."
+"The escapement needs replacing. That's the part that keeps time."
+"Your mother." A pause. "I didn't know."
+"I'm not good at this. Talking."
+"Here. I made -- I repaired this. For you."
+
+### Speech patterns
+- **Register:** Plain, unadorned. Working-class educated. He reads but doesn't perform his reading.
+- **Verbal tics:** Long pauses mid-sentence. Restarts. Trails off with em dashes rather than finishing difficult thoughts.
+- **Vocabulary:** Precise when discussing mechanical things. Vague and halting when discussing feelings. Uses watchmaking terms as his natural metaphor set.
+- **Sentence length:** Short. Rarely more than eight words per sentence when speaking. Fragments are common.
+- **Avoids saying:** Emotional words (love, miss, regret, sorry). He shows these through action -- repairing the clock, opening the door, making tea.
+
+### Relationships
+- **Petra:** Daughter he never knew existed. His relationship to her is pure potential -- everything and nothing.
+- **Maren (deceased wife):** Married for thirty years. Her death five years ago closed the last door he had open. He does not speak of her often, but her absence fills every room.
+- **Lena (Petra's mother):** A brief relationship thirty-four years ago. She left without telling him she was pregnant. He does not blame her.
+
+### Backstory relevant to this work
+Elias apprenticed as a watchmaker at sixteen. Married Maren at twenty-eight. Ran the shop for forty years. Never had children with Maren -- they tried, then stopped trying, then stopped talking about it. After Maren died, he closed the shop and moved upstairs permanently. He eats the same meals, walks the same route, speaks to almost no one. The letter from Petra arrives on a Tuesday, which is the day he buys bread.
+
+---
+
+## Petra Krol
+
+**Role:** Catalyst / deuteragonist
+**Age:** 34
+**Physical:** Medium height, dark hair cut at the jaw. Sharp features, watchful eyes. Dresses practically -- jeans, boots, a good jacket. Carries a leather satchel with a notebook she's always writing in. Has Elias's hands -- long fingers, precise grip -- though neither of them knows this yet.
+
+### Want and need
+- **Wants (conscious):** Answers. Who her father is, why he wasn't there, what she inherited from him.
+- **Needs (unconscious):** Belonging. A sense of origin. She's looking for home without admitting it.
+- **Internal lie:** "I just want information, not a relationship."
+- **Truth they must learn:** You can't interview your way to belonging. At some point you have to sit down and stay.
+
+### Arc
+- **Starting state:** Guarded, professional. Petra approaches the reunion as she approaches her journalism -- with research, preparation, and emotional distance.
+- **Turning points:** Seeing the workshop (the tangible evidence of her father's life), the clock gift (something that can't be reduced to information), sitting in silence together (letting go of the interview).
+- **Ending state:** Disarmed. Not yet a daughter, but no longer just a stranger with questions.
+
+### Voice anchor
+*5-line dialogue sample showing how this character speaks. Drafter agents load this when drafting scenes with this character.*
+
+"I'm Petra. I wrote you the letter."
+"I brought photographs. Of me, growing up. If you want to see them."
+"My mother said you were kind. That's all she ever said."
+"You don't have to explain. I'm not here to -- I just wanted to see you."
+"It's beautiful. Does it work?"
+
+### Speech patterns
+- **Register:** Articulate, controlled. Journalist's habit of clear, direct sentences. Slightly formal when nervous.
+- **Verbal tics:** Asks questions, then answers them herself. Starts sentences with qualifiers ("I mean," "It's just that") when emotion breaks through.
+- **Vocabulary:** Precise and varied. Professional language that occasionally cracks to reveal something softer underneath.
+- **Sentence length:** Medium. Longer than Elias. She explains, contextualizes, fills silences -- until she learns not to.
+- **Avoids saying:** "Dad," "father" (to his face). Uses "you" -- keeping it impersonal until it isn't.
+
+### Relationships
+- **Elias:** The father she has built from fragments -- her mother's sparse descriptions, public records, imagination. The real man is both more and less than what she expected.
+- **Lena (mother):** Close but complicated. Lena never lied about Elias existing, but never offered to find him either. Petra respects her mother's reasons without fully understanding them.
+
+### Backstory relevant to this work
+Petra grew up in a city two hundred kilometers inland. Journalism degree, works for a regional newspaper. Found Elias through a records search after her mother mentioned his name during a hospital stay. She has been thinking about writing the letter for two years. She does not tell him this.
+
+---

package/data/demo/.manuscript/OUTLINE.md

@@ -0,0 +1,46 @@
+# Outline
+
+## High-level structure
+
+A five-scene short story following a single emotional arc: from isolation through disruption to fragile connection. Each scene is set in a distinct location that mirrors the protagonist's internal state. The story spans one week in a coastal town.
+
+## Act/part breakdown
+
+**Act 1 -- Disruption (Scenes 1--2)**
+Elias's quiet routine is shattered by a letter. He retreats to the only place that makes sense -- his workshop -- and sits with the weight of what the letter means.
+
+**Act 2 -- Decision (Scene 3)**
+Elias walks through town to the pier. Watching the tide, he decides to write back. The midpoint turn.
+
+**Act 3 -- Action and Resolution (Scenes 4--5)**
+Elias reopens his workshop and repairs a clock as a gift. Petra arrives. Two strangers meet for the first time, connected by blood and a ticking clock.
+
+## Scene list
+
+| Scene | Title | Location | ~Words | Arc position | Status |
+|-------|-------|----------|--------|--------------|--------|
+| 1 | The Letter | Kitchen above the shop | 1,000 | Opening / Inciting incident | Drafted |
+| 2 | The Workshop | Shuttered workshop | 1,000 | Rising action | Drafted |
+| 3 | The Pier | Town streets / pier | 900 | Midpoint / Turning point | Drafted |
+| 4 | The Clock | Workshop (reopened) | 1,000 | Rising action / Pre-climax | Drafted |
+| 5 | The Reunion | Apartment above the shop | 1,100 | Climax / Resolution | Planned |
+
+## Arc positions
+
+**Opening:** Scene 1 -- Elias at his kitchen table, morning routine. Establishes solitude, setting, character.
+**Inciting incident:** Scene 1 -- The letter arrives. Elias learns he has a daughter.
+**First turning point:** Scene 2 -- Elias descends to the workshop and sits with the letter among stopped clocks. He cannot ignore it.
+**Midpoint:** Scene 3 -- At the pier, Elias decides to write back. The tide turns (literally and figuratively).
+**Second turning point:** Scene 4 -- Elias reopens the workshop and begins repairing the carriage clock. He is building toward something.
+**Climax:** Scene 5 -- Petra arrives. First meeting. The clock is given.
+**Resolution:** Scene 5 -- Two strangers sit together. The clock ticks. Nothing is resolved, but something has begun.
+
+## Notes
+
+- Scenes 1--3 are mostly interior/solo. Dialogue is minimal until scene 5.
+- The workshop appears in scenes 2 and 4 but is transformed between appearances (shuttered vs. alive).
+- Each scene contains at least one clock or time-related image.
+- The carriage clock introduced in scene 2 becomes central in scene 4 and is the gift in scene 5.
+
+---
+*Update this file as the structure evolves. It's the bridge between WORK.md (high concept) and individual unit planning.*

package/data/demo/.manuscript/PLOT-GRAPH.md

@@ -0,0 +1,75 @@
+# Plot Graph
+
+## Emotional arc
+
+```
+Intensity
+    |
+  5 |                                                          *
+    |                                                        /   \
+  4 |                                                      /       *
+    |                                                    /
+  3 |                              *---*               /
+    |                            /       \           /
+  2 |          *---*           /           \       /
+    |        /       \       /               *---*
+  1 |  *---*           *---*
+    |
+  0 +----+------+------+------+------+------+------+------+----->
+         Sc.1    |      Sc.2    |      Sc.3    |     Sc.4   |  Sc.5
+              Letter         Workshop       Pier         Clock  Reunion
+```
+
+## Scene-by-scene arc
+
+### Scene 1: The Letter
+- **Arc position:** Opening / Inciting incident
+- **Emotional trajectory:** Low (routine) --> Shock (letter) --> Stunned stillness
+- **Key beat:** Elias's hands tremble -- a watchmaker's hands that never tremble
+- **Tension level:** 1 --> 3
+- **Dominant emotion:** Disruption
+
+### Scene 2: The Workshop
+- **Arc position:** Rising action
+- **Emotional trajectory:** Retreat (descending to workshop) --> Memory (Lena, the past) --> Weight (the letter beside the unfinished clock)
+- **Key beat:** Elias places the letter next to the unfinished carriage clock on the workbench
+- **Tension level:** 2 --> 2 (sustained, interior)
+- **Dominant emotion:** Grief, unresolved past
+
+### Scene 3: The Pier
+- **Arc position:** Midpoint / Turning point
+- **Emotional trajectory:** Restlessness (walking) --> Clarity (watching the tide) --> Decision (he will write back)
+- **Key beat:** The tide turns. Elias turns with it.
+- **Tension level:** 2 --> 3
+- **Dominant emotion:** Resolve
+
+### Scene 4: The Clock
+- **Arc position:** Rising action / Pre-climax
+- **Emotional trajectory:** Purpose (reopening the workshop) --> Focus (the repair) --> Hope (the clock ticks)
+- **Key beat:** The carriage clock ticks for the first time in years -- the workshop is alive again
+- **Tension level:** 3 --> 4
+- **Dominant emotion:** Cautious hope, craft as expression
+
+### Scene 5: The Reunion (planned)
+- **Arc position:** Climax / Resolution
+- **Emotional trajectory:** Anxiety (waiting) --> Shock (first sight) --> Awkwardness (two strangers) --> Connection (the clock gift) --> Fragile hope (sitting together)
+- **Key beat:** The clock changes hands -- from maker to daughter
+- **Tension level:** 4 --> 5 --> 4 (climax then soft landing)
+- **Dominant emotion:** Vulnerability, tentative belonging
+
+## Thematic threads across arc
+
+| Theme | Sc.1 | Sc.2 | Sc.3 | Sc.4 | Sc.5 |
+|-------|------|------|------|------|------|
+| Lost Time | Clock stops | Stopped clocks everywhere | Tide as time | Clock restarts | Clock given |
+| Parenthood | Letter reveals daughter | Memory of Lena | -- | Gift-making as fatherhood | First meeting |
+| Second Chances | Door opens | Door stays open | Decision to respond | Building something new | Sitting together |
+
+## Pacing notes
+
+- Scenes 1--3: Slow, contemplative. Long paragraphs, few dialogue beats.
+- Scene 4: Medium pace. Detailed craft description creates forward momentum.
+- Scene 5: Fastest pace. Shorter paragraphs, most dialogue. But still restrained -- this is not a sprint.
+
+---
+*This graph tracks the emotional shape of the story. Use it alongside OUTLINE.md when planning or revising individual scenes.*

package/data/demo/.manuscript/STATE.md

@@ -0,0 +1,44 @@
+# Workflow state
+
+**Last updated:** 2026-04-04T14:22:00Z
+**Current phase:** Drafting
+**Current unit:** Scene 5
+
+## Progress
+
+- **Units total:** 5
+- **Units discussed:** 5
+- **Units planned:** 5
+- **Units drafted:** 4 of 5
+- **Units reviewed:** 1
+- **Units submitted:** 0
+- **Total words:** 3,940
+
+## Last actions
+
+| Timestamp | Command | Unit | Outcome |
+|-----------|---------|------|---------|
+| 2026-04-04T14:22:00Z | draft-scene | Scene 4 | Drafted -- 1,020 words |
+| 2026-04-04T09:15:00Z | editor-review | Scene 2 | Review complete -- 4 notes |
+| 2026-04-03T16:45:00Z | draft-scene | Scene 3 | Drafted -- 890 words |
+| 2026-04-02T11:30:00Z | draft-scene | Scene 2 | Drafted -- 1,010 words |
+| 2026-04-01T10:00:00Z | draft-scene | Scene 1 | Drafted -- 1,020 words |
+| 2026-03-31T15:00:00Z | plan | All scenes | Outline complete |
+| 2026-03-31T13:00:00Z | discuss | Story | Brief finalized |
+| 2026-03-31T10:00:00Z | new-work | -- | Project created |
+
+## Pending
+
+- **Next step:** Draft scene 5 -- "The Reunion"
+- **Open revisions:** Scene 2 has editor notes (4 items) awaiting revision
+- **Unresolved notes:** None
+- **Voice-check issues:** None
+- **Continuity flags:** None
+
+## Session handoff
+
+**Last session ended:** 2026-04-04T14:30:00Z
+**Resume context:** Scene 4 just drafted. Ready to draft scene 5 (The Reunion). Scene 2 editor review notes still pending revision. All context files complete. Voice calibration stable.
+
+---
+*This file is the source of truth for workflow position. Every Scriveno command reads it and updates it. Don't edit by hand -- it's managed automatically.*

package/data/demo/.manuscript/STYLE-GUIDE.md

@@ -0,0 +1,119 @@
+# Style guide -- Voice DNA
+
+*This file is loaded into every drafter agent invocation. It is the single most important file in the project -- the difference between prose that sounds like the writer and prose that sounds like generic AI.*
+
+## Part 1 -- Narrative architecture
+
+### Narrative perspective
+- **POV:** Close third person
+- **POV consistency:** Single POV (Elias throughout)
+- **Narrator reliability:** Reliable -- the narrator sees what Elias sees, no more
+- **Narrator distance:** Intimate -- inside his head, feeling what he feels, but not explaining it
+
+### Tense
+- **Primary tense:** Past tense
+- **Tense shifts:** None. Stay in simple past. No flashback tense changes -- memories are rendered as present-tense sensation within past-tense narration.
+
+### Narrative stance
+- **Knowing vs. discovering:** Discovering alongside the reader. The narrator does not foreshadow or editorialize. Each moment arrives as it arrives.
+- **Emotional distance:** Warm but restrained. The narrator is sympathetic to Elias without sentimentalizing him. Compassion without pity.
+- **Judgment:** Compassionate. The narrator does not judge Elias's decades of avoidance. The prose holds space for his reasons without endorsing them.
+
+## Part 2 -- Sentence and paragraph architecture
+
+### Sentence architecture
+- **Average sentence length:** 14 words
+- **Sentence variation:** High variation -- short declarative sentences (4--8 words) alternate with longer, embedded-clause constructions (20--30 words). Fragments are allowed for emphasis and rhythm.
+- **Complex structures:** Embedded clauses and fragments. Parallel structures for emotional emphasis. No run-ons.
+- **Sentence music:** Lyrical -- the prose has a tidal rhythm, swelling and receding. Staccato for moments of shock or decision. Flowing for memory and description.
+
+### Paragraph architecture
+- **Paragraph length:** Variable -- short paragraphs (1--2 sentences) for beats of tension or revelation. Longer paragraphs (4--6 sentences) for description and memory. Single-line paragraphs for emphasis.
+- **White space:** Generous. Let the page breathe. Silence between paragraphs is as important as the words.
+- **Paragraph breaks:** Break on beat shift -- when emotion changes direction, when attention moves to a new object, when time skips. Never break mid-thought for artificial suspense.
+
+## Part 3 -- Vocabulary and figurative language
+
+### Vocabulary
+- **Register:** Literary -- elevated but accessible. The prose should feel carefully made without feeling effortful.
+- **Complexity:** Accessible complexity -- no word is obscure for the sake of it, but precision matters. "Escapement" is used because it's the correct watchmaking term, not because it sounds impressive.
+- **Word origin:** Anglo-Saxon preference for emotional moments (hands, bone, salt, home). Latinate for reflection and abstraction (mechanism, solitude, precision).
+- **Jargon handling:** Watchmaking terms are used naturally, as Elias would think them. Context makes meaning clear. No parenthetical definitions.
+- **Profanity:** None. Elias is not a man who swears. Petra might, but not in this story.
+
+### Figurative language
+- **Metaphor density:** Moderate -- one or two extended metaphors per scene, grounded in the story's object world (clocks, ocean, hands).
+- **Metaphor style:** Grounded and sensory. Metaphors come from the physical world of the story: gears, tides, salt, rust, glass. No abstract philosophy.
+- **Recurring image systems:** Clocks/gears/time (mechanism as emotion), tides/ocean (time as natural force), hands/touch (connection, craft, trembling as vulnerability).
+- **Similes:** Sparse. When used, they are precise and unexpected. Prefer metaphor and direct description.
+- **Symbolism:** Emergent -- the carriage clock, the letter, the pier. Symbols grow from the story's objects rather than being imposed.
+
+## Part 4 -- Dialogue
+
+### Dialogue voice
+- **Ratio:** ~25% overall, but unevenly distributed. Scenes 1--3 have almost no dialogue. Scene 5 has the most.
+- **Tag style:** Action beats preferred over tags. "He set the cup down" rather than "he said quietly." When tags are needed, use "said" only.
+- **Subtext level:** Moderately subtextual. Characters say less than they mean. Silence and gesture carry the weight.
+- **Dialect/accent:** None. Clean, unaccented English. Elias's speech is marked by brevity and precision, not by phonetic rendering.
+- **Interrupted speech:** Rare. When Elias trails off, use an em dash. He does not ramble.
+
+### Character voice differentiation
+Each character should sound distinct. See CHARACTERS.md for individual voice anchors.
+
+## Part 5 -- Description and sensory detail
+
+### Description density
+- **Overall density:** Rich -- every scene is grounded in specific physical detail. The reader should smell the workshop, hear the gulls, feel the salt on their skin.
+- **Sense mix:** Multi-sensory. Every scene engages at least three senses. Sound is particularly important (clock ticking, waves, gulls, silence).
+- **Specificity:** Hyper-specific. Not "a clock" but "the carriage clock with the cracked ivory face." Not "the sea" but "the grey water past the breakwater."
+
+### Physicality
+- **Body awareness:** High. Elias's hands are always present -- their steadiness, their trembling, what they hold. Physical sensation grounds every emotional beat.
+- **Place:** Strong. Each location is fully rendered. The kitchen, the workshop, the pier, the apartment -- each has its own sensory signature.
+- **Time of day/weather:** Present in every scene. Morning light, afternoon shadows, salt wind, fog. The coastal atmosphere is a constant thread.
+
+## Part 6 -- Pacing, rhythm, and transitions
+
+### Pacing
+- **Default pace:** Slow-burn. The prose takes its time. Let moments land.
+- **Pace variation:** Scenes 1--3 are slower, more contemplative. Scene 4 picks up as Elias works with purpose. Scene 5 is the most dynamic, with the longest stretches of dialogue.
+- **Scene-to-summary ratio:** 70:30. Most of the story is rendered in real time. Summary is used for transitions between days and for backstory.
+
+### Transitions
+- **Between scenes:** Soft fades. Each scene ends with a resonant image. The next scene opens in a new time and place without explicit bridging.
+- **Between chapters:** N/A (short story, no chapters).
+- **Time jumps:** Signaled by setting change and time-of-day markers. "The next morning" or "By Thursday" -- simple, clean.
+
+## Part 7 -- Reference influences
+
+### Authors/works the writer wants to evoke
+- **Marilynne Robinson** (*Gilead*) -- the quiet authority, the way ordinary moments become luminous, the father-child longing
+- **Elizabeth Strout** (*Olive Kitteridge*) -- character revealed through small gestures, emotional restraint, the weight of what's unsaid
+- **Kazuo Ishiguro** (*The Remains of the Day*) -- regret as atmosphere, the dignity of understatement, the devastating precision of too-late realizations
+
+### Passages loaded as reference
+No reference passages loaded. Voice is established from the style dimensions above.
+
+## Part 9 -- Do and don't
+
+### Always
+- Ground every emotion in a physical sensation. If Elias feels something, his body shows it first.
+- Use the workshop as metaphor for internal state. When the workshop is shut, Elias is shut. When it reopens, he is opening.
+- Let silence speak. The most important moments happen between words.
+- Give every clock its own character. The carriage clock is not the kitchen clock is not the grandfather clock.
+
+### Never
+- Explain emotions directly. Never write "Elias felt sad" or "a wave of grief washed over him."
+- Use cliches about time healing. No "time heals all wounds," no "better late than never."
+- Rush the quiet moments. If a paragraph feels too slow, it's probably exactly right.
+- Use exclamation points. This is not that kind of story.
+
+### Consider
+- The sound of clocks as emotional punctuation. A ticking clock in the background changes a scene's tension.
+- Salt air as a constant sensory thread. The coast is always present, even indoors.
+- Elias's hands as the reader's primary point of contact with his interior life.
+- The difference between a clock that ticks and a clock that doesn't.
+
+---
+
+*This style guide is generated from the `/scr:profile-writer` questionnaire and refined by `/scr:voice-test`. It is updated whenever the writer says "this doesn't sound like me" or flags a specific voice issue. Every drafter agent loads this file -- it is the single most important artifact in the project.*

package/data/demo/.manuscript/THEMES.md

@@ -0,0 +1,51 @@
+# Themes
+
+*The thematic threads this work explores. Each theme has a position (the writer's stance), a set of scenes where it surfaces, and a craft strategy for handling it.*
+
+---
+
+## Lost Time
+
+**The question:** Can lost time be recovered, or only acknowledged?
+**The writer's position:** Deliberately unresolved. The story does not answer this -- it holds the question open.
+**How it surfaces:** Imagery (stopped clocks, tides, the carriage clock restarting), structure (the story itself spans only a week but contains thirty-four years of absence), objects (the letter, the clock).
+**Scenes where it appears:**
+- Scene 1: The letter announces thirty-four lost years. The kitchen clock ticks against the silence.
+- Scene 2: The workshop full of stopped clocks -- each one a frozen moment. Elias sits among them like a man sitting among his own abandoned years.
+- Scene 3: The tide at the pier -- time as a natural force that moves regardless of human intention. The tide goes out and comes back. Maybe people can too.
+- Scene 4: The carriage clock restarts. For the first time in years, something in the workshop moves forward. But repairing a clock is not the same as recovering lost time -- it is starting the count again from now.
+- Scene 5: The clock changes hands. Time is no longer something Elias keeps to himself.
+**Craft strategy:** Show through the clock imagery. Never state the theme directly. Let the reader feel the weight of thirty-four years through accumulated physical detail -- the dust on the workbench, the rust on the gears, the silence in the apartment.
+**Risks:** Time metaphors can tip into cliche ("time heals," "turn back the clock"). Avoid all of them. Use the specific language of watchmaking instead.
+
+---
+
+## Parenthood
+
+**The question:** What does it mean to be a parent when you've missed everything?
+**The writer's position:** Parenthood is not an achievement -- it is a presence. Elias cannot be the father Petra deserved, but he can be the father who is here now.
+**How it surfaces:** Dialogue (or its absence), gesture (Elias making tea, repairing the clock as a gift), backstory (the childless marriage, Lena leaving), the act of making something with his hands for someone else.
+**Scenes where it appears:**
+- Scene 1: The letter forces the word "daughter" into Elias's vocabulary. He has no framework for it.
+- Scene 2: Memories of Lena. The years of trying for children with Maren. The irony that he had a child all along and never knew.
+- Scene 4: The clock repair becomes an act of fatherhood -- the first thing he has ever made for his child. He cannot give her a childhood, but he can give her this.
+- Scene 5: The meeting. Two people who are biologically parent and child but functionally strangers. The clock gift bridges the gap -- not with words, but with craft.
+**Craft strategy:** Contrast through character. Elias does not know how to be a father -- he knows how to fix things. Let his fatherhood express itself through the only language he has: careful, precise, physical work.
+**Risks:** Sentimentality. The temptation to make the reunion warm and easy. Resist this. The reunion is awkward, uncertain, full of pauses. That is the honesty of it.
+
+---
+
+## Second Chances
+
+**The question:** Is it possible to begin again, or only to begin differently?
+**The writer's position:** You cannot go back. But you can open a door you thought was locked.
+**How it surfaces:** Action (Elias choosing to respond, reopening the workshop, opening his apartment door), setting (the workshop shut vs. open, the pier as threshold between land and sea), structure (the story moves from closed spaces to open ones).
+**Scenes where it appears:**
+- Scene 1: The letter is an uninvited second chance. Elias did not seek it. It arrived on a Tuesday.
+- Scene 3: The decision at the pier. Elias chooses to write back -- the first active choice he has made in years.
+- Scene 4: Reopening the workshop. The physical act of opening a closed space mirrors the emotional act of opening himself.
+- Scene 5: Opening the apartment door to Petra. The final threshold.
+**Craft strategy:** Embedded in setting. Track the opening and closing of doors, windows, and spaces throughout the story. The workshop door is the central metaphor -- shut in scene 2, open in scene 4. Let the architecture tell the story.
+**Risks:** False hope. The ending must not promise too much. A second chance is not a guarantee -- it is a beginning. The clock ticks, but neither Elias nor Petra knows what time it will keep.
+
+---

package/data/demo/.manuscript/WORK.md

@@ -0,0 +1,51 @@
+# The Watchmaker's Daughter
+
+## Premise
+
+A retired watchmaker in a coastal town receives a letter from a daughter he never knew he had. Over the course of a week, Elias must decide whether to open a door he sealed shut thirty-four years ago -- and whether the silence he's built his life around is protection or prison.
+
+## Work type
+
+- **Type:** short_story
+- **Group:** prose_fiction
+- **Command unit:** scene
+- **Target length:** ~5,000 words
+- **Genre:** Literary Fiction
+- **Audience:** Adult literary fiction readers
+
+## Elevator pitch
+
+An aging watchmaker who has spent decades alone discovers he has a grown daughter. Through five intimate scenes, we watch a man who fixes broken things confront the one thing he could never repair -- lost time.
+
+## Logline
+
+When retired watchmaker Elias receives a letter from Petra, the thirty-four-year-old daughter he never knew existed, he must decide whether a lifetime of lost time can be wound back -- or whether some clocks, once stopped, stay stopped.
+
+## Comparable works
+
+- *Gilead* by Marilynne Robinson (quiet, interior, a father writing to a child he barely knows)
+- *Olive Kitteridge* by Elizabeth Strout (small-town character study, emotional restraint)
+- *The Remains of the Day* by Kazuo Ishiguro (regret, the weight of choices not made, understated prose)
+
+## Central question
+
+Can a lifetime of lost time be wound back?
+
+## Core conflict
+
+Elias wants to remain undisturbed in his carefully constructed solitude. Petra's letter forces him to confront whether his quiet life is peace or cowardice -- and whether connection is still possible at sixty-eight.
+
+## Tone and mood
+
+Melancholic but hopeful. The prose moves at the pace of tides and ticking clocks. Silence is as important as speech. The emotional register is restrained -- feelings are shown through hands, objects, and the physical world, never named directly.
+
+## Structural notes
+
+Five scenes, each approximately 1,000 words. The story follows a single week. Each scene takes place in a distinct location that mirrors Elias's internal state: kitchen (routine), workshop (memory), pier (decision), workshop again (action), apartment (connection). The arc moves from stasis through disruption to fragile renewal.
+
+## What makes this different
+
+This is a story told almost entirely through objects and gestures. Clocks are not just metaphors -- they are the language Elias uses to express what he cannot say. The watchmaking details are precise and earned, grounding the emotional arc in craft and physicality.
+
+---
+*This file is the north star. Every drafted unit should advance the premise, sharpen the central question, and serve the tone. If you find yourself off-track, return here.*

package/data/demo/.manuscript/config.json

@@ -0,0 +1,59 @@
+{
+  "scriveno_version": "0.3.0",
+  "work_type": "short_story",
+  "group": "prose_fiction",
+  "command_unit": "scene",
+  "atomic": "beat",
+  "title": "The Watchmaker's Daughter",
+  "author": "Demo Writer",
+  "developer_mode": false,
+  "created_at": "2026-03-31T10:00:00Z",
+  "updated_at": "2026-04-04T14:22:00Z",
+
+  "autopilot": {
+    "enabled": false,
+    "profile": "guided"
+  },
+
+  "voice": {
+    "calibrated": true,
+    "last_calibration": "2026-03-31T12:00:00Z",
+    "drift_threshold": 0.3
+  },
+
+  "export": {
+    "default_format": "docx_manuscript",
+    "include_front_matter": true,
+    "include_back_matter": true,
+    "manuscript_format": {
+      "font": "Times New Roman",
+      "size": 12,
+      "spacing": "double",
+      "margins": "1in"
+    }
+  },
+
+  "translation": {
+    "source_language": "en",
+    "target_languages": [],
+    "name_handling": "keep_original",
+    "measurement_system": "source"
+  },
+
+  "collaboration": {
+    "tracks_enabled": false,
+    "default_track": "canon"
+  },
+
+  "illustration": {
+    "style": null,
+    "cover_enabled": false,
+    "interior_enabled": false
+  },
+
+  "git": {
+    "auto_commit": true,
+    "commit_message_style": "descriptive",
+    "branching_strategy": "none"
+  }
+}

package/data/demo/.manuscript/drafts/body/1-the-letter-DRAFT.md

@@ -0,0 +1,51 @@
+# Scene 1: The Letter
+
+The kitchen smelled of yesterday's coffee and the particular staleness of a room where only one person breathes. Elias sat at the table with his hands around a cup he had not yet lifted. Outside, gulls argued over something in the gutter. The foghorn at the breakwater sounded twice, which meant the weather was coming in from the west, which meant rain by noon. He knew these things the way he knew the click of a minute hand advancing -- not by thought, but by the body's long attendance to repetition.
+
+He wore the same wool sweater he had worn the day before, and the day before that. The sleeves were pushed to his forearms, exposing the fine white hairs and the permanent calluses along the edges of his thumbs. Watchmaker's hands. Sixty-eight years old and still steady. He was proud of that, though he would not have said so.
+
+The bread was from yesterday. He tore a piece and ate it dry, looking out the window at the slate-colored water beyond the rooftops. The shop below him was dark. It had been dark for three years, since Maren, since the last reason he had to open the door each morning had been carried out of it in a box of Norwegian pine. He did not think of it that way. He did not think of it at all, most days. The shop was simply closed, the way a finished clock is closed -- everything inside still present, still arranged, but no longer keeping time.
+
+The mail slot clattered.
+
+It was a small sound, metallic, ordinary. Letters still came -- utility bills, pension notices, the occasional catalog addressed to Maren that he stacked in a drawer without opening. He set his cup down and walked to the front hall, where the morning's delivery lay on the worn carpet like a fallen leaf.
+
+Two envelopes. One from the electric company. One handwritten.
+
+He picked up the handwritten one first, because handwritten letters did not come anymore. The envelope was cream-colored, slightly too thick for its size, and addressed in a careful, upright script. His name, his address. No return address on the front. He turned it over. On the back, in smaller letters: *Petra Krol*.
+
+The name meant nothing.
+
+He carried it back to the kitchen table, sat down, and opened it with a butter knife -- the same knife he used every morning, the same motion, the blade slipping under the fold with the precision of someone who had spent a lifetime opening small, delicate things without damaging them.
+
+Inside: a single sheet of paper, folded in thirds. He unfolded it.
+
+*Dear Mr. Voss,*
+
+*My name is Petra Krol. I am thirty-four years old. My mother is Lena Krol, who lived in this town briefly in the spring and summer of 1992. I believe you are my father.*
+
+He read it again. Then a third time. The words did not rearrange themselves.
+
+The kitchen clock ticked. The gulls had gone quiet, or he had stopped hearing them. Outside, the grey water moved against the seawall with the patience of something that has nowhere else to be.
+
+*I believe you are my father.*
+
+Elias set the letter on the table. He placed both hands flat on either side of it, the way he would steady a mechanism before beginning work. His fingers were splayed, the tendons visible beneath the skin.
+
+Lena. He could see her, faintly, the way you see something through old glass -- the shape clear enough, the details softened by time. Dark hair. A directness that startled him. She had come into the shop one afternoon asking about a clock, and he had talked for twenty minutes about escapements before realizing she was smiling at him, not at the clock.
+
+Three months. Maybe four. Then she was gone, back to wherever she had come from, and he had not followed because he was not the kind of man who follows. He was the kind of man who stays, who sits, who waits for the next thing to come through the door.
+
+Something had come through the door.
+
+He looked down at his hands. They were trembling.
+
+In sixty-eight years, in half a century of holding tweezers and jeweler's screws and springs no wider than an eyelash, his hands had never trembled. He stared at them as if they belonged to someone else -- these hands that had steadied a thousand failing mechanisms, that had held Maren's hand at the end and not shaken, that had locked the shop and climbed the stairs and made coffee every morning for three years without a single spill.
+
+They were trembling now.
+
+He pressed them flat against the table, against the wood, against something solid and known. The letter lay between them, its cream-colored paper bright against the dark grain.
+
+The foghorn sounded again. Rain by noon. He knew this. He had always known this.
+
+He did not know anything else.