It was an ordinary night when I realized "maybe someone is using this the wrong way." Without even noticing my coffee growing cold, I was gazing blankly at the access analytics dashboard when an unfamiliar user flow caught my eye. Traffic to a certain page was increasing. But the path leading there was completely different from what I had designed.
My first thought was "could this be a bug?" followed by "wait, is this person using it wrong?" And then I noticed something in myself—I was a little annoyed. As a creator, a sense of "that's not it" and "that's not what I intended" began to seep through.
I left it alone that day. But a few days later, looking at that data again, I became unable to stop wondering. What kind of person was this? What were they feeling as they took that path? As I started to trace it, I discovered something I never could have anticipated. Today, I want to write about that.
The Assumptions of Someone Drawing a Map
When I create an app, I think quite carefully about the "flow of how it should be used." Where to enter from, what to see, how to move, and ultimately where to arrive. I picture that path in my head, design according to it, and write explanatory text that matches that flow.
I thought I had considered the user flow for that app quite carefully. To prevent users from getting lost, I reduced unnecessary options and kept it simple. So somewhere deep down, I had the conviction that "everyone should follow this path."
A creator is like someone drawing a map. You decide the terrain, lay down the roads, even put up signs. But that map is drawn from the creator's perspective. Somewhere along the way, it became "the correct map."
The Discrepancy in the Numbers
I noticed the anomaly while skimming through the access analytics. A feature I had placed in a less prominent location was being used far more frequently than the main feature I thought I had designed. And the path was different. Normally it should go "A→B→C," but these users were entering from "C," skipping "B," and ending at "A."
It was in reverse. Completely opposite to the flow I had designed.
At first, I really thought it might be a bug, so I checked the functionality. But everything was working normally. This meant someone was intentionally choosing to use it that way.
Writing Honestly About What I Felt
Let me be honest here. At that moment, I was a little frustrated.
The feeling of "I designed this so carefully, yet it's being used differently." The thought of "I wanted them to enter from A, so why are they entering from C?" I wasn't angry at the users, but I felt like my design was being "ignored."
If you're doing solo development, you might recognize this feeling. Since I made it, I should know best how it's supposed to be used—I realized that day how deeply rooted this assumption was.
Reading the Logs and Imagining
A few days later, curious about that flow, I decided to look at it more carefully.
When I checked how many people were taking that path, it wasn't a small number. It wasn't random chance—the same kinds of people were repeatedly using the same pattern. That meant it wasn't a "mistake" but rather "that way of using it felt more natural to those people."
While looking at the logs, I began imagining the situation of those users. Entering from C, skipping B, and ending at A. If that was "correct," what was their purpose? In what situation, with what feelings, were they using it?
I Realized Something
As I imagined, I noticed something.
People using my app that way were probably having "days when they didn't want to take their time." Step A was somewhat heavy, and B required effort. But if they just used C, they could finish in 3 minutes. I thought A and B were the "main" features, but for these people, C was the core, and A and B were optional.
What I had designed was "a flow for people who use it carefully." But in reality, "people who don't have much time today" were also coming, and for them, the route starting from C was much easier to use.
That perspective didn't exist in me from the beginning.
What Can't Be Drawn in a Design Diagram
I think creators often can only imagine things in a "state where it can be used carefully." At least, that was true for me. When I created the app, I was designing it in a state where I had plenty of time and energy. So "the user on a day when they don't have much time" never appeared in my design diagram.
But users don't always have plenty of time. On tired days, busy days, days when they only have 5 minutes, they still open the app. Whether it can be used for "myself in a state without much time" might actually be closer to the true value of the app—I started to think that way.
What the Way It's Used Teaches You
A creator's intentions go into an app's design diagram—"this is how I want it to be used." But users don't read those intentions; they try to solve their own problems. Hidden in that "movement of trying to solve" are needs the creator overlooked.
Unintended usage wasn't criticism or misunderstanding—it was feedback. "There's this way of using it too," "There are people in this situation too," it was telling me. Once I realized that, I felt a little embarrassed about my initial "that's not it" feeling.
After realizing this, what I did wasn't big. It wasn't a dramatic overhaul or conducting user interviews.
First, I added just one line of explanation to page C so that even the "reverse order path" wouldn't confuse people. "Many people start using from here," it said. With just that one sentence, entering from C became an officially recognized path. I was surprised at how good it felt to affirm the diversity of usage with just one line of text.
Next, I added "a user on a day without much time" as a persona in my notes. So that when I'm designing future features or making improvements, I remember to think from this person's perspective too. They're a fictional person with no name or face, but I wanted to be able to remember them during the design process.
That's about it. But after doing that, I felt a little lighter somehow. Once I accepted the fact that "my design diagram wasn't the correct answer," I actually felt a bit more affection for the app.
In solo development, you decide everything, build it yourself, and release it yourself. There's a sense that everything can be completed by one person. But how users actually use it is something you can never fully understand, no matter how much you think about it.
The creator draws the map. But it's the users who first walk the paths not written on the map. Those footprints enrich the next map.
When I remember myself getting annoyed at the "unintended usage," I can still laugh a little. I'm glad I didn't get angry then. I'm glad I traced it. I'm glad I read the logs carefully.
While I was evaluating how the app was being used based on "whether it matched my design's intention," I couldn't see the users. Once I started looking at it from "what problem are they trying to solve," I felt like I could finally stand a little closer to the users.
The correct map is still being drawn. But I think it's okay if it's always being drawn.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Solo developer. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
🎁 A free bonus for you who read to the end: LINEで「自動化」と送って受け取る（実装テンプレ7本）
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Solo developer / AI adoption and business automation consultant. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI while consulting with companies on AI adoption and automation.
🖥️ Works and articles → bokuwalily.com
🐙 OSS → github.com/bokuwalily
🌍 Latest updates and inquiries → X @bokuwalily
