Writers are suspicious of tools, because writing is hard. So unavoidably hard, in fact, that tools cannot exist. If they did, it wouldn't be so unavoidable any more. (And we may secretly like it better this way.)
So in the 1990s, when a digital genie came in the form of the desktop computer to grant us all three wishes, we writers put up our hands to request: soft copies and spell-check, please, and maybe some rich text if you're feeling generous.
Then we went back to telling ourselves that the only thing that counts is getting words on the page.
But the story is the thing, and the words on the page are not that. A first draft is just a map, describing (in agonizing detail) one path through the story's possibility space. Borges wrote about a map so vast it blanketed an empire at 1:1 scale. Imagine how useless that would be: at that resolution, plotting a journey and taking it would require the same amount of legwork.