MojoPad

What's New in MojoPad

1.92.8 — 2026-09-11

1.92.7 — 2026-09-10

1.92.6 — 2026-09-10

1.92.5 — 2026-09-07

1.92.4 — 2026-09-07

1.92.3 — 2026-09-07

1.92.2 — 2026-09-07

1.92.1 — 2026-09-06

1.92.0 — 2026-09-06

Reading two pages at once, and asking one thing of several sources

Fixed

1.91.0 — 2026-09-05

One paper, three names

Writing from what you have collected

Watching what the app is doing

The thought you had while reading, and the way back to it

Marks that stay put, and links that say when they cannot

Choosing what a recording is made of

Reading in two languages

Your folders come with you when you export

Filing after the fact

An assistant can see your folders, and a move that made one says so

A page you deleted is deleted for your assistant too

Links that name two things now do both

Also

1.90.0 — 2026-09-04

Writing from what you have collected

How a document looks when it leaves

Writing

Properties that hold prose

Searching

1.89.0 — 2026-09-04

Writing from what you have collected

Your library, and getting around it

Your writing, and the copies of it

1.88.0 — 2026-09-04

Your writing, and the copies of it

Importing files, and what they are called

Searching

Reading

Links

Properties

1.87.2 — 2026-09-03

A page you locked in 1.87.1 may have left words in the clear

Making a property a note

1.87.1 — 2026-09-03

Properties

Documents that leave

1.87.0 — 2026-09-03

Choosing the agent that answers

Papers a script collects

Asking permission

Moving pages

Getting things into MojoPad

Writing plugins

1.86.0 — 2026-09-03

Properties a kind answers

Papers and citations

Clipping

1.85.1 — 2026-09-02

Moving pages

Citations that name a sentence

Links

Seeing what is running

Searching

1.85.0 — 2026-09-02

Watching a script, and stopping one

A script can put things away

Saving a page asks once, and asks about the right thing

A file that is not what it says it is

What your settings carry, and what “forget” means

1.84.1 — 2026-09-02

Your own agent

1.84.0 — 2026-09-02

Papers named by their identifier

Citations and sources

Fixes

1.83.6 — 2026-09-01

Where your writing goes

Your own agent

Scripts

1.83.5 — 2026-09-01

Finding the Scripts panel

1.83.4 — 2026-08-31

Working on an event page

1.83.3 — 2026-08-31

Research that carries on without you

For plugins

1.83.2 — 2026-08-31

Linking to words you selected

A page remembers where you were

For plugins

1.83.1 — 2026-08-30

Editing one cell no longer takes the whole table

1.83.0 — 2026-08-30

Plugins can put things on disk

What a plugin says, and where it goes

Your assistant can add to a page it did not write

Also

1.82.1 — 2026-08-30

The model you pick is the model that answers

Personas

1.82.0 — 2026-08-30

Links that name a passage, not just a page

Share one page instead of the wiki around it

Every answer you have given, in one place

The model you choose is the model that answers

An agent is asked, rather than deciding once about everything

Writing

Research

Your keys, and what is written down

Also

1.81.0 — 2026-08-29

Ask anything, and mean it

Tools you have already set up

Research that files itself

An agent that is working, and looks like it

Clipping

Also

1.80.0 — 2026-08-29

The models you set up, not the model

Research where the things it needs already are

Panels that hold their shape

Work that was going missing

What a wiki lets out, and what it keeps

Answers that are about your notes

1.79.2 — 2026-08-28

Research that goes the distance

Your writing, exactly as you left it

1.79.1 — 2026-08-28

Work that was going missing

What a password covers

1.79.0 — 2026-08-28

Conversations that last

A source you can check, and the shelf you already own

Your own agent, and research that outlives the window

Books that arrive whole

Clipping the article, not the page around it

Smaller things

1.78.1 — 2026-08-26

1.78.0 — 2026-08-26

Answers take a shape you choose

Answers stay inside their own box

Smaller things

1.77.0 — 2026-08-25

Nothing is quietly dropped

1.76.0 — 2026-08-25

Answers you can build on

1.75.1 — 2026-08-25

1.75.0 — 2026-08-25

When something goes wrong, MojoPad says what

Your settings stay as you left them

Quieter about you

The manual

Reading aloud

1.74.0 — 2026-08-24

Save as Audiobook

Plugins that reach further

A note card on a board keeps what you put in it

Room on a board

Also

1.73.0 — 2026-08-24

A question gets the room it needs

Something that failed says so, and stays said

And something that was quietly not working

Stop means stop

The properties at the top of a page, on a dial of their own

An answer tells you what it actually checked

A picture in an answer waits for you

Security

Room to work

1.72.1 — 2026-08-23

Read Aloud can load its voice again

1.72.0 — 2026-08-23

A Word file that looks like the page

An answer is laid out the same way every time

Also

1.71.1 — 2026-08-22

Three things a reader ran into

1.71.0 — 2026-08-22

Put an answer straight into what you are writing

An answer that leaves MojoPad looks like an answer

1.70.1 — 2026-08-22

Three things the release before it got wrong

Written down properly

1.70.0 — 2026-08-22

An answer that looks like something, not like a wall of text

A kind that writes the first draft for you

How adventurous the model should be, for this wiki

Fixes

1.69.0 — 2026-08-21

Ask a question in words; MojoPad works out which tool answers it

Text you can read, whatever theme you are in

[[Page Name]] is a link where you write it

Smaller things

1.68.1 — 2026-08-21

Two things 1.68.0 got half-right

1.68.0 — 2026-08-21

Give a wiki an email address

Properties that ask a server, and the traps in setting one up

Fixes

1.67.2 — 2026-08-20

Connecting a server actually works now, and your boards keep their history

Boards keep a history, like every other page

Fixes

1.67.1 — 2026-08-20

Pasted text you can actually read, and a manual that answers when you search it

The Settings window says what it holds

The manual answers to the words you search

1.67.0 — 2026-08-20

Kinds you can hand to somebody — and a door for everything else you run

A kind is a form you fill in, not a form that fills itself

Let something else answer a property

Drive MojoPad from anything you write

Outlines that survive the journey

Properties that hold more than a line

A password on a page now covers the page

Fixes

A security pass over everything added since the last one

1.66.0 — 2026-08-19

Look a source up, and let the catalog fill the page in

A paper, a saved page or a book is a page like any other

Answers you can see all of

Naming a page without leaving the sentence

Fixes

Safety

1.65.0 — 2026-08-18

An outline you can read as a document

Desks — a way of working you can come back to

What a page is, asked once

Answers that arrive when you ask for them

Fixes

1.64.0 — 2026-08-18

Ask a question once, and every page answers it

Word documents that are actually Word documents

A board that writes itself

Asked for by readers

Fixes

1.63.0 — 2026-08-17

Say what a page is, once

A check counts wherever you make it. Putting a task's reminder on a phone was already the answer to "the thing I must not forget is a phone call and I am out" — but it only ran one way. Finish the task in your wiki and the reminder went; finish it on the phone you were holding when it rang, and MojoPad went on believing the work was outstanding. The half that reached you was the half that could not answer back.

It answers back now, in one direction only, and the asymmetry is the design rather than an unfinished edge. Checking something already done costs one keystroke to undo. Un-checking real work destroys the record of having done it AND puts the reminder back on the phone, where it returns forever. So completion travels home and nothing else does: an unchecked reminder is not read as a signal at all.

Three details worth knowing. It goes and looks rather than waiting to be told — when you come back to MojoPad, when your Mac wakes, and every few minutes while it is open — because nothing changes on this side when somebody finishes a task on a train, and a check arriving hours late attached to nothing is worse than one that never arrives. A repeating task checked on your phone reschedules instead of striking out, because that rule now lives in one place rather than in the two copies it had drifted into. And the promise the feature was built on is unchanged and still literally true: nothing outside MojoPad's own list is ever read or touched — finding our own reminders already checked is reading our own list, which it has always done in order to recognize them.

Words riding the line sit level on it. A thought drawn as words on the branch is meant to read as written along the line, and a wide one did not: the limb kept descending underneath it, touching the words at one end and floating clear of them at the other. The limb was trying to flatten by easing towards level over the last stretch, which fails exactly where it matters — a label wider than its branch is long asks the curve to reach back past its own beginning, and a curve reaching backwards bulges instead of flattening. The curve now finishes where the words begin and runs dead level beneath them to the far end. Level is drawn, not approached.

Stamps — keep a change worth making twice. Select a handful of pages and the actions above them could tag, untag, retype, refile and delete, but not set one of your own properties — the one kind of change a document's vocabulary is actually made of. Now they can, and leaving the box empty clears the property rather than storing emptiness. Once you have changed a few pages, ❖ Save as stamp keeps what you did under a name, and ❖ Stamp… presses the same change onto any other selection later. A stamp is recorded rather than written — there is no editor for one and no language in it, because the only things it can contain are things you already did by hand. Press one onto pages that already match and it says so, instead of claiming to have done something.

1.62.0 — 2026-08-14

Changing your AI model lets the old one go. A local model stays loaded for about five minutes after its last use, which nobody notices until they change model — and then two of them are holding memory at once. On a Mac with a lot of it that is merely wasteful; on a Mac without, it is a stall: while comparing two models here, answering fell to a crawl and an ordinary question timed out. The model you are switching away from is now released the moment you switch.

MojoPad asks a model what it is, instead of guessing from its name. Which models appear where — one list for answering, another for searching by meaning — was decided by looking at the name: anything with "embed" in it was treated as an embedding model and everything else as a model that could hold a conversation. That is a rule about naming fashion rather than about what a model can actually do, and it has been behind the most common question there is: MojoPad can't see my models. MojoPad now asks each model what it can do. An embedding model whose name says nothing about embedding is offered for searching; a chat model with "embed" somewhere in its name no longer vanishes. A model that does not answer for itself is judged by its name exactly as before, so nothing disappears from a setup that has always worked.

A board's format bar holds nothing until there is something to format. Over a wall of cards the bar kept a few controls that governed nothing on it — there is no cursor on a board, and no reading column for a width control to set. It is empty now until you open a card to write in, and it keeps its height while empty, so opening a card moves nothing under your hand.

1.61.3 — 2026-08-14

A task board inside one project shows that project's own columns. Open a project, switch to the board, and it could draw a single column named after the project with every task piled into it — telling you nothing about which of them was Home and which was Work. Grouping by page is the ordinary way to arrive there, and a project is a page, so that grouping could only ever produce one lane. The board now falls back to grouping by area whenever the grouping would divide the view by the very thing it is already narrowed to. And inside a single project the lanes are the ones that project actually uses — two tasks in Home and Work draw two columns, not two columns and four empty ones. On the whole board every area is still drawn whether it holds anything or not, because there an empty lane is where you drop a task to give it that area; inside one project that argument does not hold, and an area is still one click away on any task's own chip.

1.61.2 — 2026-08-13

The cursor stays with the writing in a row's note. Press Return inside a note on an outline row and the cursor jumped to the very top of the note — several lines above the words you were about to type — while the typing itself still went to the right place. The line break was being made in a way that left the cursor at a position between two breaks, and a position like that has no shape on screen, so it was drawn at the top-left corner of whatever held it. Each line of a note is now a line in its own right, which can be drawn, so the cursor is where the writing is. Splitting a line in the middle divides it properly too.

Typewriter scrolling stops throwing you across an imported book. The same reader who found the first typewriter fault found the one hiding behind it, and this is the sharper of the two. Press Return in a chapter imported from an EPUB, then press the up arrow onto the blank line you just made, and the page leapt somewhere else entirely with the cursor nowhere in view. A caret on an empty line cannot be measured directly, so the line was measured by asking which block held it — and that question was answered with the outermost block, the one sitting directly in the page. In a page written here that IS the paragraph. In a chapter imported from a book, where the whole chapter arrives wrapped as one, it is the entire chapter: so the middle of three thousand pixels of text was carefully placed on the typewriter line, and the sentence being written went off the top of the screen. How far wrong it went depended on where in the chapter you stood — nothing at all at its midpoint, over a thousand pixels near either end — which is why it stayed hidden until somebody sat down to write inside a book. The line is now measured as the line, and a measurement that could not be a line at all is not acted on.

The new-page template is where people look for it. Every new page can begin as a copy of a page named Template: New Page — a link back to your index, a heading, a date — and that has been true for a long time. But it is a naming convention with no presence in Settings, so a reader coming from VoodooPad, where it was a small box in the preferences, looked there, found nothing, and had to ask whether MojoPad could do it at all. It could. Settings ▸ Links & Pages ▸ New pages now says so, and its Show me button opens your template — or starts one if you have not got one yet. Searching Settings for "template" finds it. The page stays a page, because that is what lets a new page begin as anything at all rather than as one box of text.

1.61.1 — 2026-08-13

Typewriter scrolling stops throwing you off the page. With it on, clicking a line and then pressing Return moved the page a quarter of a screen in one unanimated leap — onto the blank line Return had just made, which has no words to catch your eye. As one reader put it: the screen jumps and you have no idea where your cursor went. The cause was a kindness that backfired. Clicks were deliberately left alone so that reading stayed free, but that let the view drift out of step with the typewriter line, and the next keystroke then paid off the whole accumulated distance at once. Now the line comes to the typewriter position whenever you place the caret, clicking included — so a keystroke can never move the page by more than the line you just left — and any movement large enough to lose your eye is eased instead of jumped. Scrolling with the wheel is still never hijacked: reading stays exactly as free as it was.

1.61.0 — 2026-08-12

Think outward from one idea. Some thinking has no order in it yet — the shape of a talk, a decision with six things pulling on it, the argument of a paper you have read enough for but not yet understood. A page is the wrong shape for that: it asks you to commit to an order before you have one. File ▸ New Mindmap (or the toolbar's new button) asks only what hangs off what: one thought in the middle of an open canvas, and everything else grows outward from it. Tab grows a branch, Return a neighbor, Esc is done — or point at any thought and small + tabs appear on its edges. Because a map lives inside your wiki, it does what a whiteboard cannot: any branch of it can become a page, in place, and the map is searched, linked, versioned and exported like everything else you keep.

Everything a thought can do arrives around the thought. Right-click one and its commands come as a ring centered on it — grow, fold, carry, remove, and the rest — each naming itself as you point at it, none needing a menu bar's worth of travel. Right-click open ground and the map's own ring appears where you asked: a new thought there, a label, zoom, framing, undo. The ring re-reads itself while ⇧ is held, so the harder version of a command is asked for rather than stumbled into. It keeps its middle clear — a wider hole sits just beyond the thought, so what you are deciding about stays visible inside the ring you are deciding with, and clicking the thought through it puts the ring away. And a segment can be carried, not only pressed: take hold of ⤳ and let go on another thought, and the branch you asked from now hangs there — no dialog asking you to choose a target, because the aiming is the gesture.

How a branch looks is chosen where the branch is. Click any limb and a dial opens on it — three rings of color from wash to glow, a rail for weight, straight or curved, solid or dashed — so dressing a map never means leaving it for a palette. Press and turn the ring's % segment to zoom about the very spot you asked, with true size one notch's rest away. Drag any thought and it stays where you put it, with everything under it traveling along — and the arrangement is part of the page: which side of the center each branch sits on is saved with the map, so opening notes beside it, stepping away and back, or restarting the app never re-deals a layout you have settled into. ↺ lets the map arrange it again whenever you hand the layout back — thought by thought, or ✤ on the ground's ring re-deals the whole map at once, evenly, when what grew lopsided deserves a fresh start. Double-click open ground for a second beginning — maps in real life have islands — and T puts down a bare label: words on the canvas, belonging to no branch.

A branch can be bent by hand. Bring your pointer near any limb and it offers small white beads, each ringed in the branch's own color — drag one and the branch bends to follow you, each bend splitting its stretch so both halves offer a bead of their own, up to seven; click a placed bead to take its bend out again. A bend belongs to the branch rather than to a spot on the screen, so it keeps its shape when the map re-flows or folds. And a bend is only ever dragged into being — let a bead go without moving it and the dial opens where you clicked, so the middle of a branch answers the way the rest of it does.

Restructuring is a drag, and the corner has the camera. Drag a thought onto another and its whole branch re-hangs there — the target lights up while you are over it, a branch refuses to hang from its own descendant, and it is one undo. The corner holds zoom out, frame the whole map, and zoom in, for the hand that never opens a ring.

A thought need not be a pill. ◇ on a thought's ring opens a panel of shapes, each drawn as what it will look like rather than named — a pill, a box, bare words standing in the line's own gap, or words riding the line that runs on beneath them. The panel stays open so one can be tried against another, and a shape belongs to the one thought it was given, never spreading down the branch.

A mind map you can ask to grow. Right-click any thought and the ring has two new segments. ✦ Ask what branches from here, asked at the center, lays out the whole subject in one go — five to seven broad areas, each already carrying the particular things that belong under it — and frames it all so you can see what you have. After that you are navigating rather than asking: fold a branch away, open it again, follow the one you want. Asked further out it gives a single level, because a thought that is already specific has no hierarchy to invent. ❖ Ask about this, and keep the answer writes a page about that thought, opens it beside the map so you can read it while still seeing where it sits, and hangs a link to it below — so coming back to that thought opens what you already have rather than asking again. Your own words are left untouched, and a Discard button waits at the foot of the window while you read: it takes the page and the link together, so the map is never left pointing at nothing. And if you have written about it already, your page opens instead of a second one being made — which is the whole point of keeping a wiki rather than a pile of answers — with Ask anyway there for when the model's version is wanted too. Everything that arrives is ordinary thoughts and ordinary pages — renamed, moved, folded, edited or thrown away like anything else, and ⌘Z puts the shape back.

And it asks where the answer should come from, every single time. Ask the model — the model's own knowledge, and not one page of yours goes near it. From pages I pick — only the pages you choose are read, and the model is told to use nothing else. Both. That question is not a setting you set once and forget: which source answered is exactly what you would want to know afterwards, and a promise that nothing of yours was sent is worth something only when it is made where you can see it.

The map asks who should write it. Choose ❖ Ask about this, and keep the answer and the ring turns over to your personas — all of them, each naming itself as you point at it — then turns again for the source question. The page is written in that persona's hands, and if the persona pins a model, that model writes it.

It applies to that page alone. Picking the Professor to write one page is not the same as saying every answer from now on is the Professor's, so the persona the rest of the app is using is left where it was.

This was a fault, not a gap. The map wrote every page with its own fixed instruction — "one clear, compact explainer" — which did not merely ignore the persona you had chosen, it argued with it: choosing the Professor for depth and getting a compact explainer anyway. That word now only stands when no persona is in force. ✦ Ask what branches from here answers to your persona too, but only in which things it names — never in the form, because what comes back has to be thoughts for a map.

An answer arrives where you are. Asking ✦ what branches from a thought used to end by framing the whole map — right when a first ask laid a subject onto an empty canvas, because then the new branch was the map, and wrong everywhere else: on a large map the camera flew out to hold a hundred thoughts you were not looking at, and the place you were working was gone. The map now brings just the asked thought and what grew from it into view — sliding the least it can, zooming out only as far as the new branch itself needs, and never zooming in. If it already fits where you are, nothing moves at all.

A thought you are writing in stays on the screen. Open one that sits over the edge, or let a long one grow past it, and the map slides just as far as it must to bring the thought back into view — gently enough that you can see which way it moved — while a hand panning the map still stays exactly under the hand.

And you can see it working. Asking a model used to leave the map sitting exactly as it was for as long as it took, with nothing to separate a model thinking from a click that never landed. Now the answer's shape arrives before the answer does: faint thoughts on limbs of their own, breathing outward from the thought you asked, in the space the real ones are about to occupy — a handful of them for branches, a single document-shaped one for a page. The map slides just far enough to bring them into view if they would otherwise be off the edge, and says so plainly if the wait runs long.

A handful of looks for a map. The swatch in the bottom-left corner now opens with a row of them — Charcoal, Ocean, Aurora, Ember, Nord, Neon, Sand, Forest, Rose, Pop, Mono — each chip drawn as what it is, its own ground carrying its own first few branch colors. A look sets the ground and the branches together, because that is the only way either is any good: colors chosen to sing against near-black turn to sludge on cream, so offering the two halves separately would be handing you a decision you could make wrong. Mono is for a map that has to sit in a document without shouting. Muted is how every map looked before there was a choice, kept deliberately. A look is a starting point rather than a cage — the ground picker underneath still works, and a branch you colored by hand is never touched. And one switch under the looks — Thoughts wear their branch's color — gives every thought a quiet wash of the color of the branch that reaches it, so a grown map tells you which territory you are in at a glance. The words keep their ink, painted thoughts keep their paint, and each map decides for itself.

And a thought is drawn on the look rather than on the app's theme. The pill used to be the editor's paper, so a map dressed in Charcoal still asked the wiki whether it was light or dark and took its color from the answer — near-black thoughts on a dark theme, white ones on a light one, on a canvas that had already been given a color of its own. Each look now carries what a thought is drawn on, the words on it, and the beginning's own fill and edge. Only the looks that pin a ground pin these, so a map that never chose one does not move; and only while the map is still wearing that ground, since changing the ground on its own breaks the set.

A thought can have a color of its own. Under the shapes on a thought's ◇ panel there is now a row of fills — the look's own eight, and a first chip that takes the color off again. The words on a filled thought turn light or dark to suit it, so a pale fill never leaves pale words sitting on it. A fill belongs to the THOUGHT: color chosen on the ring runs down the whole limb and everything under it, while a fill stops where you put it. That is the rule shape already follows, which is why the two share a panel.

Branches are colors again. They had gone dusty — and the palette was only half of why. Every limb was painted at 85 percent, so the ground came up through all eight of them: on a deep backdrop you were looking at eight muddied versions of that backdrop rather than eight colors, which is not something a palette can fix from underneath. The veil is gone and the eight are brighter, further apart, and easier to tell one from another across a crowded map. The first five keep their family — orange, blue, green, pink, gold — so a map with five branches or fewer looks like itself, only cleaner. A branch you have colored by hand is untouched; that color is yours and is stored on the thought.

A map can sit on any color you like. The round swatch in the bottom-left corner already held eight backdrops and Match my theme; it now has Pick a color… as well, and the map takes the color as you move through it rather than after you commit. Any color means any color, including a pale one, so the map turns itself over to suit: thoughts take a fine edge where the ground would swallow them, words written bare on the canvas swap to dark ink, and the controls in the corners stop fading into the paper. Nothing changes for a map already sitting on one of the eight. Two smaller things fixed alongside it: a color of a length no screen can paint is no longer accepted and then quietly ignored, and a canvas backdrop now survives being closed and opened again — it was being saved faithfully and dropped every time the board loaded.

And the ground's own ring is made of the map. Right-clicking the canvas opened a wheel in the wiki's accent color — the last thing on a map still answering a question about the app rather than about the map. Once a map could wear a look of its own that became a clash: a near-black warm canvas with a wheel in somebody's blue. It is now drawn from the ground it sits on, lifted on a dark one and deepened on a pale one, so it cannot fight the look because it is made out of it. A thought's own ring is unchanged: that one wears its branch's color, because it belongs to the branch.

Words riding a line belong to it now. A thought drawn as words on its branch was written in the page's ink, and selecting it drew a short bar underneath — landing exactly where the line runs, in a different color, so the branch looked severed at the word. The words now take the branch's own color, the line runs on unbroken beneath them, and a small chevron is cut INTO the line beneath them — the ground's own color, spanning the branch, the way Coggle notches its lines — anchoring the words to a point on the branch and saying which way it travels. A free label on open canvas is unchanged — it has no branch to belong to.

The map's keyboard grew to match its ring, and a sheet teaches it. ⇧Return adds a thought above the selected one — the pair Return always implied. ⌘C carries the selected branch and ⌘V pastes it onto the selected thought, the same carry as the ring's ⧉, clipboard outline included. And the same docked shortcuts sheet the storyboard keeps on its right edge now sits on the map, with the map's own keys on it — ⌘/ tucks it away and brings it back, remembered across maps. A bare ? could not be the toggle: typing any plain character onto a selected thought starts writing in it, and that promise is worth more than a punctuation shortcut. And while writing, ⇧Tab backs up a level — finish the thought you are in and carry on in the one it hangs from — so a whole map can be written without ever touching the mouse.

The keyboard sheet has a road back. Hide the map's or the board's shortcut sheet and forget the key, and you were stranded: the only place the toggle was written down was the sheet itself. It is now in View ▸ Show ▸ Hide/Show Keyboard Sheet, and the command search knows it by name — the same recovery every other hidden panel has.

Pasting a carried branch lands it ON the thought you asked near. It used to make a separate island every time, wherever you pasted — so joining a copied branch to the map meant paste-then-drag-then-rehang, three gestures for the ordinary case. Ask for the paste near a thought and the branch now joins that thought's children; ask in the clear and it is an island, as before. The segment says which it will do — Attach the carried branch to "…" or Put the carried branch down here — before you press it.

The map stops re-dealing itself when something grows. Which side of the center each top-level branch sat on was decided fresh on every layout, balanced by weight — so typing a word, an answer arriving, or a branch pasted on could flip half the map across the root, and a paste in particular sent thoughts jumping to the other side while you watched. A side, once dealt, is now kept for as long as the map is open: balance decides where NEW branches go, and what is already on the map stays where your eye left it, however lopsided it grows.

No two thoughts overlap, whatever put them where they are. The layout never overlaps anything on its own — collisions came from hands: a thought placed somewhere deliberate keeps its offset while the map re-flows beneath it, and after a remove, an undo, or just reopening the map, an offset that used to point at open ground pointed at a neighbor, sitting on it until you dragged it off. Overlaps are now resolved after every layout: the center never moves, the hand-placed give way before the flowed, a branch moves whole so it stays a branch, and nothing stored is touched — your own placements are left exactly as written, nudged only on screen and only as far as clear.

A caret never gets left behind on the canvas. Write in a thought and then move it, and a blinking caret could stay where the words used to be — belonging to nothing, sitting on open ground until something else was clicked. Closing a thought now takes the caret with it, and a thought that leaves the map mid-edit takes its caret too.

⇧-remove takes the branch it says it takes. Holding ⇧ turns the ring's remove segment into Remove this and everything under it — and it did the quieter thing instead: removed the one thought and handed its children to whatever it hung from. The ring closes itself before it runs what you chose, and closing reset the very flag the segment consulted, so the label always told the truth and the click never matched it. The choice is now sealed into the segment when the label is drawn, so what you read is what runs.

Somewhere to write, beside the map. ✎ on the ground's ring opens a page to write in alongside the map: the canvas on one side, a real editor on the other, with the divider between them draggable. It is a proper page — auto-linking, formatting, search, all of it — and there is one per map, remembered, so tomorrow it opens what you wrote rather than a fresh blank one.

Until now the app could do each half and never both together: the pane that opens beside a page is for reading, and the two-column arrangement had no way to hold a map. It has one now — with the full format bar over the writing side, since that column is a real page being written in.

Save a map as an outline. A map and an outline are the same shape seen two ways, so ≣ on the ground's ring — right-click anywhere on the canvas — or File ▸ Save Mindmap as Outline… writes the whole map out as an outline page — every thought a row, every branch nested under the one it grew from. A real outline from that moment, foldable and reorderable, and a good next step when the thinking is done and the writing starts. It writes a new page and leaves the map alone: a map carries positions, colors and bent branches that an outline has no way to show, and the map is usually the thinking while the outline is what you do next with it. Both are worth keeping. Save the same map a second time and it asks — Replace it brings the outline you already have up to date, Keep both leaves the old one as a snapshot — rather than leaving you two near-identical pages with a number between them to reconcile by hand. The two are paired by the map itself, not by name, so renaming either keeps them together. Related: turning Outline View on directly over a mindmap or a storyboard is now refused with a pointer to the right command. Boards were already fenced off; maps were not, and doing it would have left every position and color still in the file with nothing able to read them again.

And a map could be opened as an editable list of itself, which would have wrecked it. The two-column view refuses a storyboard, for a stated reason: a board is stored as rich text, so it passes the type test and then arrives in a plain text editor as an editable bullet list of somebody's cards. A map is stored the same way and was never named, so it went through. Editing that list rewrites the page, and everything that makes it a map rather than an outline — where each thought sits, its color, its bends — lives in attributes on those list items. The words would have survived and nothing else. It was reachable three ways.

A map now says it is one, in every list. It carries a before its name — a stem with two branches leaving it to the right, the way a map grows — in the page list, the tabs, search results and every picker. Outlines, boards and canvases have always been marked this way and a mindmap never was, which made it the one page type you could not identify without opening it.

And a Mindmap button for the toolbar, beside Canvas and Storyboard, where the other two rides already were. Anything arriving in the toolbar from now on lands next to its own kind on whichever strip you actually use: a new tool used to be placed properly in the top bar and simply added to the end of the left rail, so for anyone who keeps their tools in the rail — the way it comes out of the box — a button for making something new turned up underneath Delete.

A map has no format bar. It used to keep a strip of it — the S/M/L/F width, the calendar and read-aloud — none of which a map has any use for. The width sets the reading column, which a map ignores entirely; the calendar's job is to take you off the map to a daily note. They were there because that strip is what the bar keeps on a page it cannot format, which was decided for plain text and PDFs, where all three still make sense. A map inherited controls meant for something else. It is gone, and the map has the height.

The manual now teaches the map by being one. A new chapter — The Three Rings — a live map — is not a page about the mindmap: it is a mindmap, alive in the manual, one branch per ring. Right-click any thought on it and the ring it describes opens on the thing describing it; the segments, the keys, the dial and the ground's own commands are all on the map, each a thought you can fold, carry and play with. It wears the Ocean look, which also makes it the manual's own demonstration that a map can dress itself. Help ▸ Add the Rings Map puts a fresh copy of it into your own wiki — to keep as a cheat sheet, or to wreck while learning, since deleting one and making another is the point. It is read from the shipped manual each time, so the copy and the chapter can never drift apart. Under the same door, a fix: the manual's chapters now travel with their page settings, so a chapter that is a map arrives as a map rather than as a list of itself.

A way out of a quote block, and code that keeps its lines. Three faults in one report, all in the same corner of the editor. Pressing Enter inside a quote made another quote, twice made two more, and nothing followed the last one to put a caret in — so there was no way down and no way out. An empty line at the end of a quote or a code block now means done with this block: the line goes, a plain paragraph opens after it, and the caret lands there. A click in the empty margin below a trailing quote, code block, table or list opens a line too, instead of dropping the caret back inside the thing you were trying to leave.

Text dragged in from another app now lands. A quotation dragged from a reference manager — or anything else carrying words rather than files — dropped into a page as nothing at all. The editor claimed every drag as its own and then only handled the ones carrying files, and the browser, told the page had it covered, withheld its own help. If you remember this working: you are right. The old reading pane sat outside that claim, and text dropped there landed — until 1.59.0 unified the two-pane views and writable beside-pages moved under it. The editor now claims only the drags it handles: a dragged quotation arrives the way it would paste — text, citation links and all, at the point you dropped it, in every pane you can write in.

And a code block's lines survived on screen and not on disk. A line break inside code is written as a <br>, and a <br> counts for nothing when an element is read as plain text — so three lines of code were written to the file as one continuous line. Correct while you typed, wrong the moment the page was saved and read again, which is why it lasted. Blocks already flattened stay flattened; there is nothing left in them to recover.

The pane beside a page names itself quietly. Its header carried a full-strength title and a row of buttons at all times — because unlike the two-column arrangement, which a reader asked to be pared back to "small headers which show the title of the page and an ✕", this one has controls it cannot do without. So the controls stayed and the noise went: the title is now the same small, dimmed serif the other view uses, flanked by the same hairlines, and the buttons rest at low strength and come up to full the moment the pointer is anywhere over that pane. Nothing moved, nothing was put behind a menu, and a lit control — excerpt mode running — stays lit whether or not a hand is near. The header's HEIGHT is untouched: it is the same figure the folded page header uses, so the two dividers still line up across the window.

And the way into two editable columns says what it is. It was a pencil among five other marks in that header — which is not a door, it is a rumor. The reader who has spent four rounds asking for the compact two-column arrangement had never found the one control that opens it. It now reads ✏ Write here too, in words, resting as quietly as everything else beside it. It is not a second menu item: two of those sat next to each other once, distinguished by a parenthetical, and were merged into one on purpose after a reader read the manual and stayed confused. The command list carries it by name for anyone who searches instead.

The page list loads the side you are working in. With a page open beside another, clicking in the list used to change the left-hand one always — so a reader who had been reading in the right-hand pane for ten minutes clicked a page and watched the wrong side move. It now loads whichever side you were last working in, and that side wears a colored line down its inner edge so you can see which it is before you click. ⌘-click still opens a new tab either way.

Worth knowing why this was not simply "whichever pane has focus": the pane beside holds something to read, so clicking into it focused nothing at all — focus only ever moved there through ⌥⌘O, which sets a tabindex by hand to make it possible. Reading in a pane for ten minutes left no trace anywhere. A click there now counts, and takes the keyboard with it.

And the divider between two columns stays where it is put. It described the right behavior in a comment and did not do it: both columns based themselves at half the window, and the left could be shrunk. Dragging to seventy percent asked for a hundred and twenty between them, the row overflowed, both were squeezed to fit, and the divider slid back toward the middle wherever you let go.

Slimmer headers when a second page is open, for anyone short of screen. A page opens under its own title, set in serif, with the date it was made — and that masthead is a good part of what MojoPad looks like. Open a second page beside it, though, and you pay for that introduction twice, while the page beside you begins right under the toolbar: the two halves start 121 points apart, and on a small laptop that is a real amount of writing gone. Settings ▸ Appearance ▸ Slimmer headers when a second page is open folds the masthead onto a single line, at exactly the height of the header on the other side, so both halves begin on the same line. Nothing is put away to do it — the title (still click to rename), the type, any source or linked-file chip, the ◫ and the created-and-edited line all keep their places, on one row instead of five. Off unless you turn it on.

Excerpt mode says what it is waiting for. The scissors in that pane need a canvas open for the cards to land on, and without one they refused with a status line that had gone by the time you looked up — so it read as a button that does nothing for no reason. It is now dimmed until a canvas is open, and says so when you point at it. Its neighbor has worked this way for months; this one was missed. (Both reported on the forum.)

The trash is a place now, not a button that empties. Clicking the trash in the toolbar used to delete the page you were reading. Everywhere else on a Mac the Trash is somewhere you open to see what is in it — so a reader clicked it expecting exactly that, lost several pages, and had to go to the manual to discover they were recoverable at all. It now opens your deleted pages: the last thirty days of them, newest first, each with Restore and Delete Forever. A dot sits on the trash whenever there is anything in it, which says the thing nobody knows until the day they need it — that deleting is not final.

Deleting the page you are reading is unchanged and has three doors as before: ⇧⌘D, Edit ▸ Delete Page, or right-click it in the page list. And the failure mode has turned over: the worst a mistaken click there can do now is show you a list. (Requested on the forum.)

And Recently Deleted fits its panel. The list declared itself wider than the box holding it, so on every deleted page the Restore and Delete Forever buttons hung off the right-hand edge — which mattered little while it was a menu item nobody found, and matters a great deal now it is what the trash opens.

Import the page a link points at, from the link itself. Right-click any web link in a page and there is now Import This Page beside Copy URL. It captures what the link points at and files it as a page of your own — and it does not take you there, because the moment you want a source is the moment you are reading something else, and a page worth following usually cites more than one. An Open it button waits at the foot of the window instead. The capture was always there; only the door was in the wrong place — until now the way to keep a source you were looking at was to copy the address, open a menu, and paste it back. (Requested on the forum.)

The graph's Semantic overlay says when it cannot run. It needs a local model, and without one it did nothing at all — no lines, no message, no reason. A reader with eight thousand pages reported trying it and finding that "nothing much changed": he was pulling a lever that was not connected to anything, and the app let him. It is now dimmed, and says what it needs. The diagnostics report can describe a map. It used to count a mindmap as just another page, which left "my map looks broken" with nothing to stand on. It now says how many maps a document holds and, for the largest: how many thoughts, how many starting points, how many placed by hand and how far the furthest went, how many branches are bent or styled — and warns outright when a thought has been carried off the edge of every screen, naming the command that brings it back.

And a line in the diagnostics report stops crying wolf. Each import used to print "first complaint: Command failed…" directly beneath a line saying thousands of pages came across — which reads as a failure sitting under a success. It now says what it is: one page's details would not read, kept once for the log, and the counts above are what actually happened.

1.60.0 — August 9, 2026

Every checkbox in your wiki, without moving any of them. Some tasks only make sense where they are written — a step in a recipe, a follow-up under the meeting note that caused it. Until now the only way to see them all together was to import them, which takes them off the page that explains them. On your pages, in the Tasks sidebar, is every checkbox in the whole wiki gathered under the page holding it, and every one still lives exactly where you wrote it. Check it here and the line on the page is checked; nothing is imported and nothing moves. It arrives grouped by page, and the grouping you were using is handed back when you leave.

1.59.1 — August 9, 2026

A VoodooPad import puts your pictures beside your pages, not inside them. They used to be written into the page itself, as text. On a small wiki you would never notice; on an archive built up over decades the pictures can be most of what the document weighs. And because MojoPad reads all of a page before it can show it, that is a wait every time you open the wiki — for photographs you are not looking at. Beside the pages, they cost nothing until you look at one. A picture used on many pages is now stored once, which an archive built up over decades does constantly. And a picture that cannot be read says so where it was, instead of leaving a broken frame with no explanation — those were becoming references to files that were never there.

Saved web pages show their pictures again. A snapshot kept a note of the page it came from and left its shorter picture addresses to be worked out against it. Inside MojoPad they never were: the app refuses that note outright, on purpose, because it is the kind of thing a saved page could otherwise use to point somewhere it should not. So the addresses were worked out against MojoPad itself and every one of them failed — a busy article could show none of its pictures at all, and had done since the rule was written. The addresses are worked out properly now, when the page is saved — and old snapshots are repaired as they open, since the note they kept is exactly what was needed to fix them. Pictures the archive captured still show with no network at all; anything it did not capture comes from the original site, as it always meant to.

And saved web pages now keep their pictures, rather than borrowing them. A snapshot that points at the original site is only as durable as that site: the day it reorganizes or closes, the page you saved precisely so you would still have it is a column of broken frames — and you find out years later, far too late to go back for them. It also meant a saved page could not be read on a train, and that opening your own notes told the site you had done so. The pictures are fetched once now, as the page is saved, and kept in your document. For pages saved before this, Keep This Saved Page’s Pictures in the Document in the command palette does the same for one you already have, and tells you if anything has gone missing in the meantime. A page is never allowed to send MojoPad to an address on your own network or machine, and nothing that comes back is stored unless it is a picture.

Your VoodooPad to-do lists arrive as to-do lists. A checkbox in VoodooPad is not a character, it is a small file tucked inside the page — so a page of them came across as a column of broken attachments, which is a poor welcome for a list you have kept for years. They are real to-do rows now, each still checked or unchecked as you left it, and a run of them gathered into one list the way it looked on the page. Anything else the page carried that cannot be found now says so, instead of pointing at a file that was never there.

You can choose how many copies of a document to keep. MojoPad zips a complete copy of each document when it opens and hourly while it changes, and kept the eight most recent. Eight is invisible at a few megabytes and quite different at a gigabyte and a half, where it quietly asks for twelve gigabytes of a disk you may not have. Settings ▸ Files & Backups ▸ Copies to keep of each document, anything from one to fifty. Two things that were never said out loud and now are, in the manual and in the diagnostic report: old copies are cleared when that document is copied again, so a document you have stopped opening keeps everything it has — and deleting copies by hand has always been perfectly safe.

The diagnostic report was looking in the wrong place for your backups. It always read MojoPad's own folder, so anyone who had pointed backups at another disk — which is exactly what someone short of room does — saw an empty list. It now reads the folder you chose, totals what is there, and names any document holding more copies than your setting, since those are the ones nothing will ever clear.

A summary no longer takes the place of what it summarized. Select some words, choose ✦ Summarize, and until now the summary replaced them — which is right for Tighten and Fix grammar, where keeping the sentence you asked to have corrected would be strange, and wrong for a summary. A reader had collected a quotation, summarized it, and watched the quotation go. There is a second button beside Apply now: Keep both puts the result underneath and leaves what you selected exactly where it was. Useful for Make a table too — you often want the table and the list it came from.

Side by Side gives up the rest of its margins. Two columns pay for their margins twice, which is why a 13-inch screen feels it and a large one does not. The last attempt shrank them in proportion to the display, which on any Mac you would actually work on came out at the number they already were — so the reader who asked sent a drawing with arrows pointing at the same gap. They are a plain twelve points now, on every screen, which is about 88 points of writing width back. The row carrying each column's name is about a third shorter, with a smaller title, as he drew it.

One Full Screen in the View menu, not two. macOS puts its own full-screen item into any menu called View, and MojoPad was declaring one as well — with the same label, which is why they read as an exact duplicate rather than merely a spare. Ours is gone and the system's stands alone; it also renames itself to Exit Full Screen once you are in it, which ours never did. One thing this costs: ⌃⌘F is no longer a shortcut for it — the system's is fn F.

The Journal's ↑ Today button has stopped standing on its neighbors. The bottom-right corner of the window has three tenants that arrived at different times and never introduced themselves: the microphone, the Relates to suggestions that appear as you write, and the Journal's ↑ Today button. Two of them already made room for each other. Today did not — it was written as though the corner were empty, so it sat on the ✕ that dismisses the suggestions, on the microphone, and, with the Ask your wiki drawer open, on the drawer's own text box while floating over the drawer entirely. It now lives in the same column as the writing it belongs to, keeps to the editor when the drawer opens, and parks above whatever else is in the corner rather than on top of it.

1.59.0 — August 9, 2026

MojoPad sets up its own AI now, and you will not need a Terminal. Everything MojoPad writes, summarizes and answers happens on your own Mac — no account, no subscription, nothing sent anywhere. The price of that has always been one free app called Ollama and a command typed into a window most people quite reasonably fear. Being asked to write the steps down is fair. This does better than write it down.

Reach for any ✦ command with no model installed and MojoPad offers to set it up. It knows the difference between Ollama not being installed and Ollama being installed but asleep — it used to give the same advice for both, which meant telling people to install something already sitting in their Applications folder. It opens the download page, notices by itself when Ollama appears so there is nothing to come back and click, picks a model sized to your Mac's memory so there is nothing to choose, downloads it with a real progress bar, and says Ready. Set Up Local AI… in the command palette gets there any time, and it is also how you fetch a bigger model later.

MojoPad will not download or run an installer for you, and that is deliberate rather than lazy: the promise this app makes is that nothing happens to your Mac that you did not ask for. That one step stays yours. Everything either side of it is handled. There is a new Getting Started with Ollama chapter in the manual, and a few older messages that sent people to a command line for a model MojoPad already brings itself have been corrected.

A recording that will not play now says why. Drag an .mp4 into a page and, if something is wrong, you used to get a black rectangle with 0:00 and dead controls — no duration, no explanation, nothing to do. It now tells you which of the two things happened: a format MojoPad cannot decode (it plays H.264 in .mp4 and VP9 in .webm; ProRes and some iPhone recordings need converting first), with a button to open the clip in another app — or that the file has left the document, in which case dropping it in again puts it back. The clip's shape is also right before it loads, so a video no longer arrives as the wrong rectangle. And dropping a recording onto the page list makes a page you can play, which these notes have claimed since 1.53 and which has never actually worked.

Two ways to open a second pane became one. "Open Page in Split View…" and "Open Side by Side (Second Editor)…" sat next to each other in the View menu, told apart by a parenthetical — and with the right setting the first silently became the second, so the same choice did different things on different days. A reader read the manual, could not tell them apart, and was right not to. There is one command now, Open Beside This Page…, and what you get depends on the page rather than the door: a page you can write in opens ready to write in if you have asked for that, and a PDF, a book or a locked page opens as a reading pane. The that turns a reading pane into a second editor now appears only where it can actually do something, and a hairline under a column's name shows which one has the cursor.

Full width now means full width. Every editor surface kept 44 points of margin on each side no matter what — invisible at the other widths, where the reading column is narrower anyway, but at Full it was simply 88 points of the window you had asked for and did not get. It was pointed out twice, because the first attempt at it changed nothing on a small screen — which is a fair thing to be told. The Side by Side divider drags now too, remembering where you put it, and the toolbar above a PDF or a book is about a third shorter — it sits above the document the whole time you are reading, so its size is not a small thing.

Where you were in a page comes back. MojoPad has always reopened the right page and always put you at the top of it — while remembering your place in a PDF or an EPUB perfectly. Moving between open documents kept the cursor, so the fault only showed after quitting, which made it look like a quirk rather than a gap. It is written down now, and restored when you come back.

Look at a picture properly. Click an image and press space — or right-click it and choose Quick Look — and it fills the window. Scroll to zoom, drag to move, double-click to fit. Zooming goes towards the pointer, so the part you are looking at stays where it is.

Sharing that survives an update. A document shared on your local network stops being shared when MojoPad quits, including when it quits to install an update — exactly when you are least likely to notice. Check Share this document whenever it is open in the Info palette and it starts again each time you open it. A document with a password never shares itself: the setting is not offered on one, and adding a password later stops it whatever was checked before.

And your own markup can travel as markup. Exports protect characters like * and _ so that words you typed arrive as words. That is right for most writing and backwards if you write Markdown or Org by hand — a reader hit it twice, in two different exports. I write my own markup in the Info palette hands your text over as written, per document.

1.58.1 — August 8, 2026

A very large document opens again. A big VoodooPad wiki could come across successfully and then refuse to open at all — MojoPad closing three seconds later with no message, no window and no menu, every single time. There is nothing to read that as except a destroyed file. It was not destroyed, and was never even damaged — every page of a MojoPad document is its own file on disk, and none of them is being written when this happens.

Reading a document gathered every page and handed it all to the window in one piece. Past a certain size that does not go slowly, it stops — and where the line falls depends on the machine, because the limit comes from how much memory the Mac has rather than how much is free. The same document opens on one Mac and closes the app on another, which is why this was never seen here. A document now crosses a few hundred pages at a time, and one that used to be fatal at this size leaves MojoPad using a few hundred megabytes while it opens.

The same fault was in three other places — unlocking a password-protected document, merging another document into this one, and importing from VoodooPad. Only the import had been fixed, in the release before this one. All four now share the same machinery, so a wiki with a password is no longer one unlock away from the same ending.

And if it ever does happen again, MojoPad will say so. Until now the log simply stopped, which is indistinguishable from a normal quit — so the app would reopen the same document and close again, and there was no way for anyone, including us, to tell that the document was what caused it. It now leaves a note before reading and clears it after, and the next launch says which document it did not come back from.

Backups stopped repeating themselves. MojoPad copies your document when you open it, so that a version from before today's work always exists. It was doing that whether or not anything had changed — and when a document could not be opened, each failed attempt wrote another full copy. A large wiki caught in that loop could fill several gigabytes with identical copies in minutes, written by an app that never got as far as a window. It now copies only when your pages or attachments have actually changed since the last one, and never starts a second copy of the same document on top of the first. Nothing about the promise changes: edit a page and the copy comes back.

A document missing a setting opens instead of failing. A document.json written by an older MojoPad, or by another tool, or restored from a half-finished sync, could arrive without a field this version expects — and the window opened completely empty, with nothing said. Settings that are absent now simply take their normal values.

One-word page names can link everywhere. A page name of two words or more always becomes a link wherever it appears. A single word normally links only where two pages are genuinely about the same thing, because one common word in a sentence is usually just the word — you do not want every "ideas" turned into a link. That is right for a wiki of ordinary notes and wrong for one brought over from somewhere that linked every occurrence, particularly if the page titles are mostly single words. Info palette ▸ Link one-word page names everywhere switches the judgment off for that document.

And the VoodooPad import report now says the two things everybody notices. That the pages are narrower than they were in VoodooPad, and that one setting — Settings ▸ Appearance ▸ Default page width ▸ Full — changes every imported page at once, because none of them carries a width of its own. And that one-word linking exists, and where it is.

1.58.0 — August 8, 2026

Settings grows when you do. Settings was reported as too small to read comfortably — and the control being asked for already existed and had simply never reached that window. MojoPad has had an interface size for a long time, and every window honored it except one. So somebody who chose Roomy because the type was too small got a bigger app and a Settings window exactly as small as before — the very window they were reading at the time. It scales now, all of it, in the same proportion as everything else, and Compact takes it the other way.

And the explanations under each setting have stopped being fine print. They were the smallest text in the whole app — smaller than the page list, smaller than the prose you write in the editor — which is a strange thing to do to the longest and densest writing MojoPad puts in front of you. The size was not the mistake; the filing was. Those paragraphs had been grouped with the little uppercase headings, which get away with being tiny because they are two or three letterspaced words. A paragraph does not. They are ordinary body text now, and stay in the background by color rather than by shrinking. The setting itself is the largest thing in its row, because that is what you came to change.

Settings has a search box. Fourteen panes is more than anyone keeps in their head, and this is a window that only ever gains rows. Type what you are after and the panes stop being one-at-a-time: every pane holding a match appears at once, each labeled with its own name so you learn where things live while you look for them, and the setting that matched is marked down its edge. Its neighbors come with it deliberately — a control that arrives on its own, without the sentence explaining it, tells you less than you came for.

You do not have to spell it, and you do not have to know the exact wording. typewrter finds "Typewriter line sits at". spellng finds "Check spelling while typing". wordcompletion — no space, and not what it is called — finds "Suggest word completions as I type". Typing what you half-remember from a description works too, because the explanations are searched as well as the names.

Where the typewriter line sits is yours to choose. Turn on typewriter scrolling and the line you are writing stays put while the page moves underneath it — but where it stays was one fixed spot, chosen by us. Some people want dead center, some want it lower so more of what they have already written stays in view, some want it higher so there is room to see where the page is going. It is a slider now, in Settings ▸ Editing, anywhere from a quarter of the way down the window to three quarters. Where it always sat is where it starts. (Asked for in those exact terms: "Make that a slider and let people choose.")

Side by Side gives your screen back. The bar across the top was asked to go entirely, in favor of small headers carrying nothing but each page's title and an ✕ to close the column you did not want. That was right, and the bar was worse than merely thick — it announced Side by Side in large type with a sentence explaining what you had just chosen, above two column headers that already named both pages. It told you something you knew, twice, and charged you the height for it on every screen forever.

It is gone. Each column now carries an ✕ beside its own name, and closing one leaves the other page open by itself — which is the honest description of what happens. You are not leaving a mode; you are putting one of two pages down. Point at the ✕ and it names the page you will be left with. Nothing is stranded: a column's name still opens that page alone, and the View menu still toggles the whole arrangement.

And the margins answer the screen. Two columns each paying separately for generous margins is a comfortable trade on a large display and an expensive one on a laptop — which is exactly where somebody notices that the space they can actually type in is smaller than it needs to be. The columns keep their air narrow where room is short and hold the margins they always had where it is not.

Every count is a door. A reader asked the obvious question twice over: if the masthead says 3 linked here, why does saying so not take me to them — and if the counts along the bottom are worth listing, why can I not click them? Each count is the answer to a question, and the list behind it is the better answer. So each now opens the view it is counting. N linked here opens the pages that point at what you are reading. N pages shows and hides the page list. N links opens the Graph — that number counts every link in the wiki, and a flat list of several hundred is not a readable answer, while the Graph is the same links arranged so you can see them. N today opens Updates, whose Recently Modified list is exactly what it counts.

The masthead count is written to read as part of the sentence rather than as a control bolted into it: it takes the words' own face and color, and underlines only when you point at it.

The manual caught up. It had been telling readers to click a button that was removed in this same release, and it had nothing at all to say about the typewriter position, the counts, or searching Settings. All four are written up now, in Folding and Longform, Formatting, and Settings.

1.57.0 — August 7, 2026

A large VoodooPad import no longer dies at the finish line. A big import could run for many minutes, report success, and then be lost entirely when MojoPad quit less than a second afterwards. Nothing was wrong with the reading. Every page had been converted correctly; the failure was in handing them over, all at once, in a single message too big to send. Pages now cross in batches as they are made, so the size of your document no longer decides whether the last step survives.

It had been hiding behind the import bug fixed in 1.56.0: while that document imported nothing, there was nothing to hand over and nothing to fail. Reading it correctly is what made the handover big enough to break.

And the same import is roughly twice as fast. MojoPad asked macOS to read each page's details in a format it cannot produce for a page carrying a date — which is all of them — then asked again the correct way. On a document of eight thousand pages that is eight thousand wasted conversations. It now takes the hint after the first one.

Storyboards and outlines have buttons now. They lived in the File menu and the command palette and nowhere you could see, which is a poor showing for one of the better things in MojoPad — a whole feature you had to already know the name of to find. The same was true of File ▸ New Outline — a good outliner that nothing in the window pointed at. Both now have a tool in the left icon rail beside Canvas — Storyboard, and New outline — each opening a fresh one. Like every other tool they can be moved to the top bar or reordered in Settings ▸ Appearance ▸ Toolbar.

"Search by meaning" now says why your models aren't listed. If Ollama is running and you have models in it, but none of them turn up in that list, it looked broken — you have a Mac full of models and MojoPad is offering you none of them. Nothing said what was going on. Searching by meaning needs an embedding model, which is a different kind of thing from the ones that write, and a machine with a shelf full of chat models can easily have none of these. MojoPad now says so where the empty list is, names the distinction, and gives the one command that fixes it — and Automatic is labeled with what it will actually do, since with no embedding model installed it quietly resolves to MojoPad's own, which made two entries that behave identically look like a choice.

Plain-text pages can embed other pages. Put ![[Page Name]] on a line of its own and it renders there, whole page or single section, exactly as it does on a formatted or Markdown page. It was the one page type left out, for no reason a reader could see — and he was right to ask.

What the file holds is the marker you typed, never the borrowed words. A plain-text page's whole promise is that the text is the text, so ![[Page Name]] stays five characters and a page name on disk, in any editor, however much you write around it. The embed is a way of seeing the other page rather than a copy of it. (The marker has to be alone on its line: ![[Notes]] and more stays as written, because a block that swallowed the words beside it would be taking liberties with a page whose point is that it doesn't.)

And it travels — HTML, PDF, Markdown, Word, ePub, a published site, a card, the split view. An embed that only worked in the window you typed it in would be a decoration rather than a way of building something, so a plain-text page assembled out of embeds exports as the whole thing, the same as a formatted one.

A wiki can be an outline wiki. Info palette ▸ New Page Format now offers Outline alongside Formatted text, Markdown and Plain text — so every new page in that document opens as an outline, and all your outlines can live together in one place instead of being made one at a time. Your daily note follows it too: set it once and every day arrives as an outline.

That list is also the reason the outliner has been so easy to miss. It was built from the three ways a page can be stored, and an outline is not one of them — it is a formatted page wearing a different set of keys. So the one screen in MojoPad that tells you what kinds of page exist had never mentioned outlines at all. A good outliner that nothing in the window pointed at. The formats are now named in plain words rather than in MojoPad's internal ones, and a page's Type says outline or storyboard where it used to say richtext for all three.

A new outline opens with its first row waiting, and the cursor is in it. It used to open looking like an ordinary blank page — no bullet, and the cursor stranded at the far left edge of the pane rather than after the bullet, so the page read as empty and unfocused until you typed a letter and everything snapped into place. The first line you typed also came out oddly bold. Three faults, one culprit. The row was really there — the link scanner, which sweeps a page a moment after it opens, was throwing it away; that pass exists to find page names and addresses and has no business reshaping an outline, so it now restores any row it disturbs and puts the cursor back in one if it was left stranded. The stray boldness had the same root, one level down: MojoPad styled top-level rows bold, and the pass mistook that for bold you had turned on and kept faithfully re-applying it as real markup. That is now recognized and unwrapped wherever it can still arise — and the boldness itself has gone. Outline rows are ordinary body text now, at every level. The heavier first level was borrowed from another outliner's templates and earned its keep nowhere: a brand-new outline is a single top-level row, so the first thing you typed came out bold before there was any structure for the weight to mean anything; it only ever applied in the editor, so the same outline was body weight in the split view, in every export and on your published site; and it was what invited the stray markup in the first place. The bullets and the indentation were always saying it better.

And File ▸ New Outline now actually makes an outline. It marked the page as one a moment after creating it — too late for the editor, which had already opened it as ordinary formatted text. Rows did not nest, Return did not make a new row, and the page only came right if you left it and came back. It is made as an outline now, in one step, so it behaves like one from the first keystroke.

Typing a link the Markdown way now works every time. Writing [some words](an address) has made a link since 1.53.0 — but only if you typed the whole thing briskly. Pause anywhere in the middle and MojoPad's own link scanner, which runs a moment after you stop, would quietly take hold of the address, or of the words in the brackets if they happened to be a page name. Either one broke the link before it formed, and you were left with the brackets. Nothing said so, and it reproduced for nobody who typed at a normal speed. The scanner now leaves a link you are in the middle of writing alone.

Pasting is the half that never worked at all. The addresses this matters most for — a DEVONthink item, a Bookends reference, anything with a long identifier — are copied from the other app, never typed, and a paste fires no keystroke for the old rule to catch. Paste [the paper](x-devonthink-item://…) and you get the link. Prose is untouched: [see note](above) names no address and stays exactly as written.

Exporting a Markdown page gave you a transcript of it, not the page. Export ▸ Markdown ran a converter over the page's source instead of over the page, so it escaped the markup that was already there — [a](url) came out \[a\](url), **bold** came out \*\*bold\*\*. Every other route (Compile, HTML, the website) had always rendered it properly first; this one was the exception, which is why the same page could compile correctly and export wrongly. Canvas pages went out through the same gap, as escaped board data under a heading. Both now export as what they are. (Reported by a reader keeping his wiki beside DEVONthink, twice — the second time because the first fix was in a part of the app his case never reached.)

Locking a wiki now locks its history too. Setting a password protected your pages and left your saved versions of those pages sitting beside them readable — and a saved version is a complete copy of a page as it was earlier. A wiki you had kept for months was sealed at the front and open at the back. Setting a password now takes all of it in the same moment: every saved version, including versions of pages you have since deleted, along with the meaning index and the text pulled out of your books. If any of it cannot be taken, MojoPad says how much and what kind — saved versions of your pages, or the search text built from them — rather than reporting a document as protected while part of it is still readable. A file it cannot even read counts as one it could not take, which sounds like a technicality and is the opposite: those are precisely the ones that stay in the clear. Help ▸ Save Diagnostic Report now answers the same question directly, so you can check rather than take our word for it. Changing a password is unaffected and stays instant — those files are already sealed under a key that travels with you.

A folder can lead. If you keep a literature folder, things in it move and go: you throw out a paper you have finished with, and its page sits in your wiki for another week until you delete that too. Right-click a followed folder and choose This Folder Leads… and the two match in both directions — a file you put in the Trash takes its page to Recently Deleted, and a page you delete puts its file in the Trash. Off until you ask for it, and asked for one folder at a time, because which side leads is a property of the arrangement rather than of the app: a journal you only add to is nothing like a literature folder.

Nothing is destroyed in either direction — the Trash is the Trash, and Recently Deleted holds a page for 30 days. And being unable to see a folder is never treated as it being empty: a page is only ever taken when the file's own folder is right there, readable, and simply without it. Unplug an external disk, lose a network share, leave a sync half-finished, and nothing happens at all. Each folder is judged separately, so one share going quiet doesn't stop MojoPad noticing a deletion on your desk. Turning it on counts what has already drifted apart and asks before touching any of it.

Deleting several pages at once follows the same arrangement as deleting one, and restoring a page from File ▸ Recently Deleted brings it back for good. A page whose file went to the Trash comes back as a page of its own rather than pointing at something that is no longer there — otherwise the next look at the folder would find the file missing and take the page straight back, which is not a restore. A page whose file is still sitting in the folder keeps its link and goes back where it was.

The hover preview stopped covering the thing you were dragging onto. Hover a page link and a small preview appears after a moment. Start dragging a row in the sidebar and aiming it between two others takes rather longer than that moment, so the preview would open squarely over the line showing where the row would land — while a drag is running, mouseleave never fires, so it sat there until the drop. It already knew to stay out of the way of a menu or a dialog; a drag is the same rule and was the one missing. Reported by a reader hours after we told him drag-to-reorder existed.

And a few things were cut off or ran off the edge. The Add alias field in the Info panel stopped mid-word at "press Re" — it was an input with no width of its own, dropped somewhere with nothing to stretch it, while every field around it spanned the panel. It spans the panel now. Dialogs that name a file's location no longer push a long path off the side of the card, and one that has something to say in more than one paragraph now shows them as paragraphs instead of running everything together.

Properties before you have any. The Properties palette used to offer AI only once you had already defined a property, so the one person who most needed to see what a property is — somebody who had never made one — was the only one who couldn't. On a wiki with none, it now reads the page and offers the two or three it actually states: an Author from the byline, a Published date, an Identifier that is really a DOI. Accepting one adds it to the wiki and fills it in.

The names come from the vocabularies catalogs have long since settled on, and that is the useful part. Wanting Writer on one page and By on the next costs nothing until the day you want every book sorted by who wrote it and find three fields holding the same fact. Once your wiki has properties of its own it goes back to filling only those — the names are yours, and it will never rename one you chose.

1.56.0 — August 6, 2026

Your tasks can reach your phone. A reminder in MojoPad has always been a real notification — and it arrives on the Mac MojoPad is running on, which is no help when the thing you must not forget is a phone call and you are out of the house.

Turn on Settings ▸ Dates & Time ▸ Put dated tasks in Reminders and every task you have given a reminder — the 🔔 chip, or @remind(…) — becomes a row in Apple's Reminders app, in a list called MojoPad. A due date alone is not enough: a date says when something is due, a reminder is the part that says tell me, and that is what travels. iCloud carries the list to your iPhone and iPad, and Apple rings it there. No account, nothing on anybody's server, no second app to keep in step by hand.

It stays in step in the direction that makes sense: your wiki is where tasks live, so finishing or undating one here removes its reminder. Nothing outside the MojoPad list is ever read or touched — reminders you keep elsewhere are none of its business, and anything you add to that list yourself is left alone. Change your mind and deleting the list undoes all of it at once. macOS asks permission the first time, and it is a separate question from the calendar one: that only ever reads, this one writes, and those deserve separate answers. A wiki with a password is never sent — blank reminders on a phone help nobody.

Stages you name, and a pipeline for each project. A book goes Drafting → With editor → Out. A house move goes Booked → Packed → Done. Neither is "Doing", and one universal set of stages becomes a ceiling the moment you are running both at once.

Group the Tasks board by Status and the lanes are yours: a + Add stage column sits before Done, double-clicking a stage heading renames it and every task in it follows, and removing a stage tells you how many tasks are in it first, then sends them back to To do rather than losing them. Open one project's board and the stages you add belong to that project — boards that span everything keep your default set, so naming a book's stages does not impose them on the shopping. To do and Done are not stages and cannot be renamed: one means no stage yet, the other is the check. Stage names sit behind a document password like areas and tags do, because a stage can be a phrase as private as awaiting biopsy results. (Asked for by a reader who chose this over the simpler version knowing it would take longer. He was right.)

Grouping by Area or Tag gained the same: a + Add column at the end of the board, and double-click a lane heading to rename it. Every task carrying the old name comes along, with its color, its visibility and any saved view that filters to it. A tag you have made but never used now gets a lane too.

The three layouts are in the open. List, Board and Calendar were behind a button marked Display, and a reader told us plainly he had no idea the board existed. They now sit in the bar where you can see them; what stays behind the button is grouping, sorting and filters, which is why it is now called Arrange.

Use no AI at all. Not everybody wants any of it, and some work should not go near a model. Settings ▸ AI ▸ Use no AI at all switches off the whole of it: nothing is generated, nothing is indexed by meaning, nothing is sent to a model — including the by-meaning suggestions the browser extension makes about pages you visit, which run in a helper Chrome starts and so used to carry on regardless. The buttons, menu items and panels that offered any of it go away.

A single wiki can also refuse on its own, in the Info palette ▸ Document, and that travels with the wiki rather than with the Mac — so a set of records that should never meet a model keeps refusing wherever it is opened. Nothing you have already made is touched, and the marks saying where something came from stay: a wiki that used AI should not be able to pretend it never did. What goes is every offer to make more.

Plain text gets its links back. On a page that stores plain text, Link Selection to Page…, Add Link…, the Relates-to strip and typing [[ all made a link that was thrown away the instant the page saved — while staying on screen until you left, so it looked as though it had worked. One of them even said "Linked to …" out loud. They now write the link in the form plain text can actually keep, which is also the form MojoPad's own export understands.

Clipping got several things it was quietly missing.

Your wiki's location on your Mac is no longer given to the browser. With augmented browsing switched on, the extension was handed the full path to the open wiki — /Users/…/Patient Cases.mojopad — and wrote it into the page it was highlighting, where any script on that site could read it. It now receives a meaningless token instead, and MojoPad turns that back into the right wiki at its own end. Nothing else about the feature changes.

On a page MojoPad cannot format, the bar now shows only what still works — read aloud, the reading-column width, the calendar — instead of a row of grayed-out buttons. A reader put it better than the reasoning in the code: if I can't use it in the mode I am in, don't show me the options. And the bar can be put away entirely with ⌃⌘B, which it should have had all along.

The formatting buttons light up to show what is on. Put the cursor in bold text and B lights; in italic, I. The floating bar over selected text has always done this; the main row never did, so which bar you happened to be using decided whether MojoPad would tell you.

Dragging a folder now says what it is about to do. Dropping on the top or bottom third reorders; the middle nests inside. Those looked nearly the same, so people concluded reordering was not possible. Now a bar means it will slot in there and a filled outline means it will go inside — a gap versus a destination.

A page dragged into a followed folder becomes a file in it, the way a folder that mirrors one on disk ought to behave. It asks once, because writing into a folder you own is not a light thing even when the gesture is. If a file of that name is already there, yours is written under a different one and the status line says so — nothing of yours is written over.

VoodooPad documents import again. Since 1.52.0 they have not — every page of every document arrived as an unrecognized format, in under a minute, with nothing brought across. Making the importer faster in that release changed how it reads each page's details, to a form that cannot carry a date; every page has a creation date, so every page was refused. It now falls back to a form that can, and keeps the speed. If an import came back as a long list of pages that could not be read, this was why, and it is worth another go — nothing in your VoodooPad document was ever altered.

Also in this release:

1.55.0 — August 5, 2026

A paper that leaves MojoPad finished. Journals increasingly ask authors for a ready-for-print PDF rather than a file somebody else lays out — which only helps if the app can produce the page the journal specified. Until now MojoPad offered two paper sizes, one margin for all four edges, and no say at all over type size. A journal printing at a size MojoPad did not offer left its authors unable to produce the paper at any setting.

The trim is now whatever the guidelines say: B5, A5, and a Custom size you type in millimeters or inches, beside US Letter and A4. Margins take a side each, for a wider inside edge or a deeper foot, and the type size is yours to set. Choosing Custom starts from the size you were already on, so you only change what actually differs.

Two things were wrong in every PDF MojoPad has ever made. The body text was printing gray rather than black, and the page was inset further than the margin you asked for — request an inch and you got an inch and a sixth. Both are fixed — a paper set to one-inch margins now measures one inch exactly. If you have sent a PDF from MojoPad to anybody, it had both, and papers you compile now will not match older ones. If you need one to match a copy you have already sent, set Margins to A side each and enter 1.333 inches top and bottom, 1.167 left and right — that is what the old output really was.

The notes block a journal will accept. Getting one meant editing every note by hand in a word processor after exporting, and typing the word "Endnotes" inside the first note, because nothing could sit above the block. Notes can now be numbered 1, 1), [1] or (1), under a heading in your own words, starting on a fresh page. The small back-arrows that help on screen are left out of the file you send.

Compiling stops asking. A paper is compiled after every session, and three times in the hour before it goes — and every one of those runs asked which folder, then which options, then where to save, to produce a file identical to the last but for its contents. File ▸ Compile Again (⌥⌘B) rewrites the same file, from the same folder, with the same options, and asks nothing. It refuses rather than guesses: a folder that has gone, or a file that has been moved or already sent, opens the full Compile and says why. The first compile now lists the folder holding the page you are on first, since the app already knew where you were.

1.54.2 — August 4, 2026

Writing a long paper. A paper is not one page, and it is not only the draft — around it sit the marked-up manuscript your editor sent back, the journal's guidelines, the interview transcripts, and the thoughts that outgrew this paper and belong to the next one. View ▸ Writing View arranges MojoPad for exactly that: your folder tree on the left, the section you are writing in the middle, and down the right, for that section — what it is meant to do, a word target and how close you are, notes to yourself that never leave the app, and its footnotes as cards you can click to jump to.

And beside all of it, the part that is not a writing app's usual furniture: what else in your wiki reads like the section you are writing — notes, quotations, pages, and the PDFs and books in your library, offered by meaning rather than by anything you remembered to file. The list changes as you move between sections, and clicking one opens it beside your draft rather than instead of it, with your sentence still where you left it. It reads your own pages on your own Mac; nothing is sent anywhere. There is a new manual chapter, Writing a Long Paper, that walks through the whole shape.

The writing view: the folder tree, the section being written, and beside it what else in the wiki belongs here — one of which has been opened in the pane between them.

1.54.1 — August 4, 2026

1.54.0 — August 3, 2026

Bring your own model. MojoPad's AI runs on your Mac, and that is still the default and still where most people should leave it. But a model needs memory — roughly three quarters of a gigabyte for every billion parameters — so on a Mac with 8 GB the only models that fit are ones that summarize English tolerably and are genuinely poor at rephrasing, at translating, and at answering in most other languages. That is not a setting anybody got wrong. It is the memory.

So Settings ▸ AI now tells you in one line how large a model this Mac can actually run, and what a model that size will and will not do well. Underneath it is the way around: Bring your own model lets the questions you ask be answered by a model somewhere else, using your own key. Pick your provider from the list and the address is filled in for you.

It is decided per wiki, which is the part worth knowing. Turning it on does not open everything you keep — the first time you ask a question in a particular wiki, MojoPad asks whether that wiki may send, and remembers the answer for it alone. A personal journal can stay on your Mac permanently while a research wiki answers from your model, on one key and one setting.

What leaves, and what does not:

Comments — a note in the writing that is not part of it. The paragraph you are unsure about and why. The source you still need to check. Write %% like this %% and it becomes a comment as you close it, or press / and choose Comment — either way the note sits beside your sentence, dimmed and in italics. It is never counted in the word count, never found by search, never part of what "search by meaning" reads, never shown to the AI or to a connected assistant, and it comes out of every export — PDF, ePub, Word, a published site, a page you share, the feed. The one exception is exporting as Markdown files, which keeps them, because that export exists to hand your writing to another editor and losing your own notes on the way would make it the one export that quietly threw something away.

Video in a page. You have a screencast of the bug, a voice memo from the walk, an interview you are transcribing. Until now those sat beside your writing as files to be opened somewhere else. Drop one into a page and it plays where you put it.

A copy goes inside the document, which is the point — the recording travels with your wiki, into your backups and onto another Mac, and it still plays. It also means the document grows by that much, so short screencasts and voice memos are what this is for; MojoPad tells you what a large file will cost before it goes in, and for a two-hour film a File link points at where it already lives and costs your document nothing.

Seeking stays quick regardless: drag the scrubber deep into a long recording and it jumps there, because MojoPad hands the player only the stretch it asked for rather than pulling the whole file first. Hover a clip and a speed chip appears — a screencast is usually watched faster than it was recorded and a passage you are transcribing slower, and no built-in player puts that within reach. Hover also brings up the resize handle at the corner — drag it to set the width. Neither needs a click on the clip first, so nothing starts playing while you are trying to size it.

The size is part of the page and survives saving, reopening and export. A page you share on your network arrives with its clips playable, scrubbing and all, and a published site carries the file out beside the page. Where a clip cannot play — a PDF, a Word file, an ePub — the page names the recording in its place, so a reader still knows what was there. Drop a recording onto the page list instead and it becomes a page in its own right, which you can link to like any other.

Your Mac's calendar, beside the day. You are writing up a Tuesday and cannot remember what filled the afternoon. Turn on Show your Mac's calendar in the Journal in Settings ▸ Journal and the day's events sit at the top of its card as you write: the time, the title, and a dot in the calendar's own color. Add something in Calendar and switch back and it is there — MojoPad reads the day again whenever you return to its window. It only ever reads: MojoPad never changes an event, never adds one, and nothing about your wiki reaches your calendar.

Kagi for web suggestions. The suggestions that appear beneath a page can now come from Kagi, whose index deliberately favors the pages an ad-funded engine buries. Kagi bills for every search, so a key sitting in Settings does nothing until you turn it on as well — nobody should discover afterwards that they were paying. Answers are kept for a week, so the same question is never bought twice.

Where a clipped page came from. A page that arrived from the web used to look like a page somebody typed. It now carries a small badge with the site's name beside its title; click it to open the original. Every clip already in your wiki gains one the moment its page is opened.

What you just selected. Highlight a passage and the status line reads "120 of 1,430 words selected", so you can size a section without counting it.

Small windows can stop floating. The little peek windows sat above everything, which is right when you are referring to one and wrong when you are not. There is now a preference.

The task pane. Task groups are cards now, overdue work carries an edge, the add row lines up with the list, and an empty list says what is actually true rather than looking misconfigured.

Fixes.

1.53.1 — August 2, 2026

A fix for palette buttons that did nothing, and three for the paths to getting help.

1.53.0 — August 2, 2026

Float the panels. For anyone who finds a wall of panes divided by hairlines hard to read at a glance, there is now a second way for MojoPad to sit in its window. Turn on Float the panels at the top of Settings ▸ Appearance and the page list, the page you're writing in, the split view, the palettes and the AI drawer each lift onto their own panel with a little space between them — so you can see where one thing ends and the next begins without a line being drawn to tell you. The icon rail comes along as a rounded dock rather than a fourth panel. It works with every theme, because it uses the colors your theme already has: a light theme stays light, a dark one stays dark, and the background you chose shows through the gaps. The gaps cost a small amount of width, which is worth knowing on a laptop screen, and turning it off puts everything back exactly as it was. It is off unless you ask for it.

Every panel now opens and closes the same way. Hover the divider beside the page list, the palettes or the AI drawer and a small chevron appears; click it, or double-click the divider, and the panel goes away with its width remembered. The page list and the palettes each leave a button on the window edge to bring them back. The AI drawer returns from ✦ AI. This was three different behaviors before: the AI drawer's divider reset its width instead of closing it and had no chevron at all, the button that brings the palettes back stayed on screen while they were open, and on a fresh launch that button was missing entirely — so the palettes could be closed with nothing on screen offering to reopen them.

A link you can type. Write [the 1987 paper](https://example.org/soc) in a sentence and it becomes a link the moment you close the bracket, right where you typed it. Nothing to select first. It is deliberately fussy about what counts as an address — it wants a real one — so "the result (see below) was clear" stays a sentence and your parentheses stay parentheses. One undo puts the brackets back.

Make Custom URL Link… writes something down. Run it on an empty line and it used to register the rule perfectly and show you nothing, because the rule matches text and there was no text to match: a command that asks for a word and an address, takes both, and appears to do nothing. It now writes the phrase where your cursor is. Underneath that was a second fault — what it inserted was never saved, because writing into a page from code doesn't count as typing. Both fixed.

Markdown export keeps your addresses. Links in MojoPad aren't stored in the page; they're worked out fresh every time a page is drawn, which is why a page you've never opened still shows its links. Export was reading the stored page, finding nothing, and writing plain text. It now does the same work the editor does before writing the file. A link to another page can reasonably come out as words — that page is in the same export. An address can't: strip it and the destination is gone from the file with nowhere to look it up. So addresses always survive, with no setting to find. An export now also carries out what the page actually shows: if a document has automatic linking switched off, or you have unlinked a particular phrase, the file matches.

Sharing on your local network says which document. The checkmark on Window ▸ Share on Web Server was set when you started or stopped sharing and at no other time, so it went on describing whatever you last toggled. Since several documents can be shared at once, that was exactly the case it got wrong: share one, switch to another, and the menu claimed the new one was already being served. It now follows the window in front. And the addresses in the message that confirms a share are links you can click, rather than words you copy off the screen — as are addresses in every other message MojoPad shows you.

Ask your wiki, with cleaner lines. The row under the box you type in had grown to six controls in four different shapes. Where the answer may look — your wiki, this page, the journal, or anything — now shows the choice in force and keeps the other three a click away, which is a better trade for the space when most people set it once. The persona, pinned pages and New conversation lost their outlines, and the microphone only lights up while it is actually listening. The one filled button is Send.

Also: Voodoo Dark got its panels back — in the floating layout they were built out of the page color, and it is the one theme with a white page in dark chrome, so the page list and palettes turned white while their text stayed the pale gray meant for charcoal. A table wider than the editor can be scrolled to again when the panels float. The theme swatches in Settings have room to breathe. The rule under the formatting toolbar no longer crosses the corner it is trying to curve. And the handbook now covers all of the above, including a question it had never answered: what happens to your links when you export.

1.52.1 — August 1, 2026

Corrections to 1.52.0, all of them from two readers asking good questions the day it shipped.

1.52.0 — July 31, 2026

1.51.0 — July 30, 2026

1.50.0 — July 28, 2026

1.49.1 — July 27, 2026

1.49.0 — July 26, 2026

1.48.0 — July 26, 2026

1.47.0 — July 25, 2026

Storyboard — some writing is too big to hold in your head: a novel, a thesis, a forty-minute talk. Lay it out as cards, write inside the structure, and see the whole of it while you work on any one part.

Your pages can live in files on your Mac. A DEVONthink user asked for this, and it was built with that arrangement in mind: point MojoPad at a folder your document manager already indexes and the same notes are live in both places at once. Write here, and the file in your library changes. Write there, and the page catches up. Nothing is copied, nothing is converted, and your library stays the source of truth — thank you for asking.

And the rest of it —

1.46.0 — July 23, 2026

Writing with sources — footnotes that keep up, scripts, templates anywhere, and a page in its own window.

1.45.6 — July 23, 2026

The graph opens instantly — and two fixes from a reader.

1.45.5 — July 22, 2026

Big wikis stop freezing when you add a page.

1.45.4 — July 22, 2026

Four fixes, three of them from readers.

1.45.3 — July 22, 2026

Switching columns keeps your place. In Side by Side — two pages open as editable columns — pressing ⌥⌘O to jump between them sent the cursor to the top of the page every time, losing your spot mid-document. Each column now remembers where your cursor was, so switching back lands you exactly where you left off, with the view held in place. (From a reader who caught it — thank you.)

1.45.2 — July 22, 2026

Documents in iCloud reopen right away after an update. On a Mac where your wiki lives in iCloud Drive and hasn't been opened in a while, MojoPad could sit for up to a minute after an update before your document appeared — long enough to think it had opened to an empty launcher and lost your work. It never had: the app was waiting on a slow iCloud disk check before it would even show the window. The window now opens immediately and fills in as iCloud downloads your pages. (This is the real fix for the reopen delay 1.45.1 reached for and missed — that one addressed a case that doesn't actually occur.)

1.45.1 — July 21, 2026

A wiki kept in iCloud reopens after an update. If your MojoPad document lives in iCloud Drive — the Desktop & Documents folders sync there by default — a Mac that hadn't opened it in a while can hold the file as a not-yet-downloaded placeholder to save space. After updating, MojoPad would then land on the launcher instead of reopening it, as though the wiki were gone. It never was: your notes are safe, on disk and in iCloud. MojoPad now recognizes a document iCloud hasn't downloaded yet and opens it — which prompts macOS to pull it back — so your wiki comes back on its own.

1.45.0 — July 21, 2026

A full task manager, born inside your wiki. Empty your head from any app (⇧⌘7, start with "task:"), run your morning from Today with one-click Reschedule for the overdue, and plan on a board or calendar — while every task remains a plain checklist line on a page, right next to the thinking that produced it. The sidebar reads as a philosophy: Goals → Projects → Areas → Tags — the outcomes you're steering toward, the finite efforts that serve them, the parts of life they belong to, and the threads that cut across. Link a project to a goal and the goal's count rolls up everything beneath it — and a task can serve a goal directly, no project wrapper needed.

Your second brain follows you around the web.

Turn on Augmented Browsing and pages you read in your browser quietly show you where they touch your own notes. A phrase that matches one of your wiki's page names gets a soft dotted underline — hover it and a small card shows your note's opening lines and how connected it is; click and the page opens in MojoPad. The Clip to MojoPad extension's toolbar icon counts each page's connections, and its panel lists them all — with Clip and Mute a site right there.

Requires the Clip to MojoPad browser extension (the same one that clips pages — one extension, both jobs).

Your pages as a live table, board, or gallery — Database Views. Your pages already carry structure — tags, Page types, and your typed properties. Database views turn that structure into something you can see: run New Database View… and every page becomes a row you can filter, sort, and group, updating live as you write. "Books I'm still reading, by rating" or "every meeting this quarter, grouped by person" — built in a minute, saved forever.

Your whole wiki as a wall you can actually read. Press Gallery and every page becomes a card — the title, a real slice of what's written on it, its key values. It's for the moment you know something exists but not what it's called: a month of clippings you never filed, the reading pile, everything in PKM Research. Click a card and it opens over the wall, full size and readable, with ‹ › to walk to the next card — so you can triage twenty pages without losing your place once. Open the page properly when you find the one you wanted, or close and carry on.

The Journal gets a face. Every day is now a card — a bordered sheet with the day's name in serif and the date in quiet small caps — with today's card wearing a warm tint: the standing invitation. Under each header sit two one-tap instruments: MOOD (five faces) and ENERGY (five rising pips). They store as tidy metadata on the day's page, never in your prose — and Ask your journal and ✦ Reflect read them beside your words, so "how was my week?" can notice that your energy dipped the days you wrote about staying up late. Opening the Journal now lands the caret ready to write — a blank day in the compose line, a written day at the end of your last line.

The Graph's controls come home. Every control now lives in one stack down the canvas's left edge — same pills, same labels, one width — so nothing hides in an overflow menu on a smaller screen: a MacBook Air sees exactly what a big display sees.

Also in this release:

1.43.5 — July 21, 2026

Three fixes from three readers. Small things that were quietly in the way — a layout that forgot itself, a cursor in the wrong place, and voices that were there all along.

1.43.4 — July 20, 2026

Tables that keep your data, and read the way you built them. If your documents lean on wide tables — a chronology with one row per event, a source list with a citation in the last column — three things just got better, and one of them was losing data quietly.

With thanks to the customer whose meticulous report pinned down all three.

1.43.3 — July 19, 2026

App links now work everywhere they appear. 1.43.1 taught MojoPad to open bookends://, x-devonthink-item://, and other app links — but only links that had arrived one particular way. A link stored in the web's own format — the form imports and pastes produce — could still look like a link and do nothing when clicked: a Bookends group link sitting dead while the citation link beside it worked. Now every link with a real destination is clickable the moment the page appears — imported pages included, before you've ever edited them — and such links survive into HTML, ePub, and PDF exports too. The safety model is unchanged: script-style link types stay blocked always, and the first click on each new link type still asks before another app opens.

Thanks to the same sharp-eyed user for the follow-up report.

1.43.2 — July 18, 2026

Your documents come back after an update restart. Choosing "Restart Now" when an update was ready could forget which documents were open — if you kept two wikis side by side, only an empty launcher greeted you after the restart. The restart now snapshots your open documents before the windows close, so everything reopens exactly as you left it. (Updating to this version is the last time the old bug can bite: if you have documents arranged just so, choose "On Next Quit" for this one update.)

Thanks to the user who reported it.

1.43.1 — July 18, 2026

Links to your other apps now open. Click a bookends://, x-devonthink-item://, drafts://, or any other app link in a page and MojoPad now hands it to the right app — the first click on each link type asks for a quick confirmation (with "always allow"), so a wiki someone shares with you can't quietly reach into your other apps. Email (mailto:) links open again too. Dangerous link types (scripts, raw data, executables) remain blocked, always.

Thanks to the user who sent the crisp report — if you build wikis from your reference manager, your citation links now round-trip.

1.43.0 — 2026-07-18

Bring your own AI agent.

MojoPad now ships a local MCP server — a bridge that lets an AI agent build and search your wikis for you. Point Claude, Claude Code, Cowork, or Dispatch at MojoPad and say “make a wiki from the documents in this folder,” or “what does my wiki say about onboarding?” It all runs on your Mac; nothing about your wikis leaves your computer.

Also in this release:

Also fixed:

1.42.1 — 2026-07-16

Fixes

1.42.0 — 2026-07-15

Sharper lists, and the outline everywhere.

A round of editor improvements, straight from your feedback.

1.41.0 — 2026-07-15

Checklists that add up, and words that finish themselves.

A round of editor polish, straight from your feedback.

1.40.0 — 2026-07-13

Walk the board.

1.39.0 — 2026-07-13

Three big ones — a canvas that thinks with you, AI for whole books, and a MojoPad that reads back.

🎓 Learning Playground

📚 Book AI

- ✦ Summarize the book — a faithful overview of the whole thing. - ✦ Unpack the book — cards mapping its parts, chapters, and the shape of its argument. - ✦ Key claims — the main assertions, each with a deep-link back to the exact passage where it's argued. - ✦ What does this add to my wiki? — reads the book against your own notes and tells you what's genuinely new, and where it connects. - Ask the book — a question bar, answered from the book with links back into the reader.

🔊 Read Aloud & MojoPad Voice

1.36.4 — 2026-07-13

A quick fix.

1.36.3 — 2026-07-13

A handful of fixes — from testing feedback.

1.36.2 — 2026-07-13

A quick Journal fix.

1.36.1 — 2026-07-13

Outliner & folder fixes — a round of bug fixes reported in testing.

1.36.0 — 2026-07-12

Room beneath the bullet. A batch of outliner answers from a keyboard-happy reader.

Outliner

Everywhere

1.35.1 — 2026-07-12

Journal fixes. Two rough edges from daily use.

1.35.0 — 2026-07-12

Sharper outlining, calmer capture. A feedback-driven follow-up to The Outliner — link any row, edit links in place, build trees without the Tab dance, and capture from anywhere without losing your place.

Links

Building the tree

Fixes

1.34.0 — 2026-07-12

The Outliner. A full outliner now lives inside MojoPad — not a separate mode you visit, but powers your existing pages gain, plus a dedicated page for when you want nothing but the tree. It synthesizes what we admired most in the best outliners around, then adds the one thing none of them have: an AI bridge between outline and prose that runs entirely on your Mac.

Every page is a little bit outliner

Outline pages

Work the outline

✦ The outline–prose bridge (local AI)

For the keyboard devoted

Fine print

1.33.0 — 2026-07-11

One tree for your whole wiki. The sidebar's separate Pages and Folders tabs collapse into a single tree — folders and pages together, the way the Finder and Obsidian show them — and organizing becomes one fluid drag.

The unified tree

Drag to file, reorder, or nest

Pins

Housekeeping

1.32.0 — 2026-07-11

Every command, one keystroke away. Settings ▸ Shortcuts now lists every command in MojoPad — not just the ones that ship with a key. Commands without a shortcut sit blank until you give them one: Unlink, Edit Page in External Editor, Duplicate Page, every export, the view toggles, the list conversions — sixty commands join the panel, grouped and searchable, and an assignment takes effect everywhere at once, menus included. (Value pickers — themes, zoom presets, layout, density — aren't commands, so they stay out; and Undo, Redo, Close, and Settings stay fixed on purpose, as ever.)

1.31.0 — 2026-07-11

The reading room. Two readers wrote in — a veteran wiki keeper who reads his books inside MojoPad, and an academic who lives in rich text — and this release builds what they described: the book on one side, your notes on the other, and everything in reach without leaving the page.

Read with your notes beside you

Rich text, first class

The window, out of your way

Fixes

1.30.0 — 2026-07-11

The method release. Most note tools explain their buttons and never say what to do with them — it's the top reason people give up on a second brain. MojoPad 1.30 answers with a practice built in: what to capture, how to organize it, and when to come back. Alongside it, search learns to understand time, and a round of navigation comfort from reader feedback.

A practice, not just a tool

The Journal pitches what you don't have

Search understands time

Search rounded out

Getting around

Fixes

1.29.0 — 2026-07-09

Imports that file themselves. Three improvements from reader feedback — bringing a whole library in without the busywork, and two paper cuts smoothed over.

1.28.0 — 2026-07-09

Your keyboard, your rules. Every shortcut in MojoPad is now remappable.

1.27.0 — 2026-07-09

Markdown feels at home. A round of fixes and polish for people who live in Markdown — every one of them from reader feedback.

1.26.0 — 2026-07-09

Your editor, your way. Five improvements shaped by reader feedback — how the page reads, where your safety copies live, and a writing posture your neck will thank you for.

1.25.1 — 2026-07-08

Fixes for the raw Markdown editor and font detection. Several 1.25.0 features worked in the formatted view but not the raw Markdown source view — now they work in both.

1.25.0 — 2026-07-08

Type the way you think — and use your own fonts.

Type Markdown, get Markdown

Text you can actually read

Use any font on your Mac

Deeper, clearer headings

More kinds of text open as text

Web capture keeps the math

1.24.0 — 2026-07-07

Read, search, and quote your PDFs. Every PDF and book you import is now searchable to its last word, findable with ⌘F, and one drag from becoming a cited quote in your notes.

Search inside your PDFs and books

Quote a source straight into your notes

Your AI chats remember themselves

Little things

Everything here — search, find, and your AI — runs locally, on your Mac. Nothing about your PDFs or your chats leaves the machine.

1.23.0 — 2026-07-07

The Journal. All your days on one scrolling page — write today, glance up at yesterday, and keep a running thread without ever opening a note.

A river of your days

Move through time

What today brings you

Understanding a word

A highlighter for every theme

Safe on a shared or synced drive

Little things

Everything here — Reflect, Explain, resurfacing — runs locally, on your Mac.

1.22.0 — 2026-07-07

Hands on. Reach into a page and move a block with your cursor; run a real task board right on a canvas. Direct manipulation for the two things that were still a little stiff.

Blocks — pick up any block

Kanban boards on the canvas

A dark desk

Fixes

1.21.0 — 2026-07-07

The outside world, losslessly. Two ways to bring what you read and watch into your wiki — whole, clean, and yours.

Web capture that keeps what matters

Talk to your videos

1.20.0 — 2026-07-07

The Canvas. A spatial board for the thinking that doesn't want to be a list — your pages become movable cards you can arrange, connect, resize, and edit right where they sit. And because a canvas is just a page in your wiki, it links, versions, exports, and encrypts like everything else.

A board of live cards

Stickies, arrows, frames

A board that behaves like a grown-up tool

A PDF reader of our own

Books read like books

The board thinks ✦

All of it local — your models, your Mac, nothing sent anywhere.

Feeding the board

1.19.0 — 2026-07-06

The Memory Release. Your wiki can now make sure you remember what's in it — flashcards that live inside your pages, scheduled by the algorithm behind modern Anki, graded by a local model that actually checks your answer, healed when your notes move on, and mapped onto the graph as a living landscape of what's fading. Every word of it on your Mac; no deck app, no subscription.

Flashcards in pages

Review that exceeds the genre

An algorithm fitted to YOUR memory

The graph remembers

Housekeeping

1.18.0 — 2026-07-06

The Longform Release. Write small pages, read one big document — and collapse what you're not using. Plus the Bucket grows up.

Folding

Longform — many pages, one document

The Bucket grows up

1.17.0 — 2026-07-05

AI Personas. Expert answers without expert prompting: pick who answers, and the prompting technique comes baked in. Plus a smarter AI panel all around. As always — every word of it runs on your Mac.

Thirteen personas

A smarter AI panel

Also

1.16.0 — 2026-07-04

Deep structure. A wiki gets its power from reuse — so MojoPad now lets you embed a single section or a single paragraph anywhere, and open a second page beside the one you're writing. All live, all local.

Embed a section

Embed a single block

Split view

Also

1.15.0 — 2026-07-03

MojoPad now speaks LaTeX — typeset math anywhere in a note, and draw TikZ diagrams that only real TeX can make. Both run on a genuine engine bundled into the app, entirely on your Mac: no account, no server, no internet.

LaTeX math, right in your notes

TikZ diagrams

Beautiful everywhere

1.14.0 — 2026-07-02

MojoPad now draws diagrams from text — flowcharts, sequence diagrams, mindmaps, and more — live in your pages, and even drafts them for you with local AI. As always, everything runs on your Mac: no account, no server, no internet.

Diagrams, right in your notes

Draft a diagram with AI

Beautiful everywhere

1.13.2 — 2026-07-01

The Bucket, easier to find.

1.13.1 — 2026-07-01

A small fix.

1.13.0 — 2026-07-01

A round of refinements — many straight from your requests — plus a few additions that make everyday writing smoother: your own journal templates, a friendlier Markdown experience, and bulk actions for tidying up. As always, everything runs on your Mac.

Collections are now Folders

Your own journal templates

A friendlier Markdown

Bulk actions in the Pages panel

More visibility and control

Everything new runs locally, on your Mac.

1.12.0 — 2026-06-30

The headline: MojoPad gets a fresh, modern look — calm, warm, and flat — and learns to combine your notes for you. It's the biggest visual change since the app began, plus a marquee new feature for research and thinking, and a long list of refinements throughout. As always, the AI runs on your Mac.

A calmer, modern design

Synthesis — notes that combine themselves

A simpler, smarter side panel

Move between your documents

A better writing canvas

More control, less clutter

Explore

Fixed

1.11.0 — 2026-06-28

The headline: MojoPad stops being a place you only put things and starts thinking back — bringing forgotten notes back at the right moment, surfacing where your own notes disagree, and giving you a kind of version control over how your mind has changed. Every bit of it runs on your Mac.

The wiki thinks back

Version control for your mind

Working with many pages at once

Fixed

1.10.0 — 2026-06-28

The headline: your graph now thinks in meaning, not matching words — plus a way to explore and grow your wiki from the outside, and another round of PKM depth. As always, everything new runs on your Mac.

A graph that understands your notes

Explore beyond your wiki

Deeper PKM

Video

Editor

1.9.0 — 2026-06-27

Three big additions — structured properties, Edit with AI, and Dictation — plus quicker list tools. Everything new runs on your Mac, like the rest of MojoPad.

Properties

Edit with AI

Dictation

Lists

Fixed

1.8.1 — 2026-06-26

A reliability fix for importing VoodooPad documents.

Fixed

1.8.0 — 2026-06-26

Themes

AI

Graph

Page Types

Pins

1.7.0 — 2026-06-25

The Graph stops looking like a diagram and becomes a place — a living night sky of your ideas that you'll actually want to open. And your pages get a proper home: Collections move into the left sidebar as a foldered browser. Everything still runs on your Mac.

A graph worth staring at

Prune the links that don't belong

Collections move to the left

A journal that starts with structure

Checklist polish

1.6.0 — 2026-06-24

Your wiki gets a brain. The Graph grows up from a pretty picture into a place you can think — see your themes, ask it questions, build maps by hand, and let it suggest links as you write. Everything runs on your Mac through Ollama; no page content ever leaves your machine.

The Graph turns semantic

Ask, command, and converse

Build and tend

See your wiki differently

Write as you think

Themes and polish

Embeds (also delivered in 1.5.2)

Privacy

Fixed

1.5.2 — 2026-06-23

Embeds now count as connections.

Changed

Fixed

1.5.1 — 2026-06-22

A fix for page embeds.

Fixed

1.5.0 — 2026-06-22

A command palette, an outgoing-links view, and page embeds.

Added

1.4.1 — 2026-06-20

The manual catches up with 1.4.

Improved

1.4.0 — 2026-06-20

A "/" command menu, a Chrome web clipper, and smarter web capture.

Added

Improved

Fixed

1.3.0 — 2026-06-19

Outline, a tasks dashboard, any installed font, and more.

Added

Fixed

Several of these came from reader suggestions and bug reports — thank you.

1.2.2 — 2026-06-18

Site search, pinned pages, callouts, and Markdown export.

Added

Fixed

Several of these came from reader suggestions — thank you.

1.2.1 — 2026-06-17

Annotate your PDFs, plus a Return-key fix.

Added

Fixed

Both sparked by user feedback — thank you.

1.2.0 — 2026-06-16

Linking and clipping, smoother.

Page links

Web Clipper

Appearance

Fixed

More requests from the community — thank you.

1.1.0 — 2026-06-16

Collections, reimagined — plus an in-app "What's New".

Collections

Elsewhere

All sparked by feedback right after launch — thank you.

1.0.0 — 2026-06-15

The first official release of MojoPad: a local-first personal wiki for your Mac, and the spiritual successor to VoodooPad. Type the name of a page and it becomes a link — no folders, no filing, no friction. Everything lives in a plain folder on your machine, and the AI runs entirely on your Mac.

Highlights

Linking that just happens

type it. Select any phrase and press ⌘L to create a page.

Write your way

Find anything

Graph that scales to thousand-page wikis.

On-device AI (via Ollama)

document, so later sessions start warm.

leaves your machine.

Coming from VoodooPad?

diagrams, web archives (faithful snapshots or cleaned-up editable pages), PDFs, and bookmarks. Links reconnect themselves by name. There's even a Voodoo theme.

Everything in, everything out

Privacy and safety, built in

one thing — a version check against a static file — and you can turn that off.

Pricing


0.1.0 was an early pre-release build. 1.0.0 adds polish across the editor and new-page templates and marks the official, paid launch.