On the night of release, Lily was a bit nervous. "I'm sure that person will use it"—with that thought, I remember pressing the button. For months, I continued creating while picturing a specific face, imagining that person's life, and envisioning the moment they would murmur "Oh, this might be nice." I didn't know if it would reach them, but I could somehow see the face of the person receiving it. With that sense, Lily pressed that button. However, the people who actually came were completely different. People close to the "target" persona I had in mind barely came at all. At first, I simply thought of it as a failure. But as time passed, I began to feel that something that couldn't be explained by the word "failure" was contained in that discrepancy. Today, I'd like to write honestly about that "discrepancy." I don't want to share any special lessons—I'd just be satisfied if people who are similarly creating things individually thought, "Ah, that kind of thing happens too."
A Target with a Fictional Face
What Lily created was a simple tool to make it easier to continue recording small moments of daily life. It wasn't something using specific technology, or a professional tool for an industry—it was for people who wanted to build a habit of reflecting on their days.
The specific person I had in mind was a concrete "individual." Not a friend, but someone at an acquaintance's distance—a person in their 30s who was busy with work and wanted to cherish their own time. Someone who wished to notice their own changes by recording a little each day. Someone who was good with smartphones but didn't obsess over apps, and liked simple things.
Without a name or photo, but very real in Lily's mind, I considered the screen layout, chose the wording, and decided on colors for that person. "This person would get confused here," "This person might not need this feature," I simulated over and over in my head.
The Strength of the Motivation to "Create for Someone"
Creating for someone is a powerful motivation. When you create not for an abstract "user" but for someone whose face you can picture, decisions become faster. The question "What would that person think?" becomes your axis when you're uncertain. Lily loved that feeling.
That's precisely why the reality after release was a bit disorienting.
A few days after release, feedback began arriving little by little. Words of gratitude, reports of people starting to use it. That in itself was very gratifying. But as I read through them, moments of "Huh?" increased.
The people who came weren't the busy 30-somethings Lily had imagined. They were students. People who had started something new after retirement. People in the midst of raising children. People working in completely different industries. The people Lily had thought "might not resonate much with this demographic" were actually using it enthusiastically.
The Feedback Content Was Also Off
The way they used it was different from what Lily had assumed. Instead of using it for "daily reflection," some people were writing once a week in bulk. Some were using it to record emotions. There were voices saying "I'm using it as a diary," and Lily, who hadn't anticipated that far, was somewhat surprised.
At the same time, requests for the features Lily had anticipated didn't come much. The parts Lily had thought "absolutely necessary" and designed carefully were barely mentioned by anyone. It was like the chair I had prepared was being sat in by someone else. That's how it felt.
At First, I Thought It Was a "Communication Problem"
To be honest, at first I interpreted this situation as "not reaching the right people." If it had reached the original target, there should have been more response, so maybe the way I promoted it was bad.
But after observing for several weeks, a different interpretation slowly grew within Lily. Maybe it wasn't that "the target didn't receive it," but rather "the target setting itself was off."
Did "That Person" Really Exist?
The "busy person in their 30s" that Lily had envisioned wasn't a real person. It was a fictional character onto which Lily had projected the wish "I want this kind of person to use it."
That persona didn't come from actual research. It was a mix of the "typical persona" image seen in magazines and articles, Lily's own experience, and admiration for "someone who would use it in a cool way."
The people who actually came had more pressing reasons for using it. Someone who wanted to jot down their feelings for just five minutes during busy childcare. Someone who had always wanted to keep a diary but kept giving up after three days. Someone who, after retiring, suddenly felt the urge to "record things." People Lily hadn't dismissed lightly, but "hadn't anticipated that far."
And they were using it with much clearer purposes.
Even Though I Could Say "I Welcome the Unexpected"
It would have been nice if I could simply rejoice, "Great, unexpected users are using it!" but honestly, I couldn't do that right away.
The "person" Lily had envisioned didn't come. There was a small disappointment in that fact. It was the feeling of not reaching the person I had wanted to reach. It was less like a product failure and more like a personal feeling—similar to a letter not reaching its intended recipient.
Actually Listening to the Voice of Those Who Came
The turning point came from a message from someone. "In childcare, every day flows the same way, and I wanted to leave something behind, so I started using it. It's simple and I can keep it up," the message said.
Reading that one line, Lily became quiet. So it did reach this person, I thought. Not the "person I wanted to reach" that Lily had imagined, but still, it had managed to weave itself, small and gently, into someone's daily life.
From that point on, Lily decided to listen more carefully to the voices of the people who had actually come. Specifically, I changed the wording of the feedback form to ask "What made you start using it?" As a result, feedback about uses and motivations Lily hadn't known about came pouring in. It wasn't a major change, but that one move gave the biggest insight.
Real Voices Over an Imagined Individual
From that experience, Lily's answer to "who to create for" changed slightly.
Before, I would clarify the "target persona" before creating and try to optimize everything toward that person. That in itself wasn't bad, but in Lily's case, it led to a habit of "prioritizing the preferences of an imagined person over the voices of actual humans."
Now, in the initial design phase, I only think about "what situation and what problem do I want to solve," and then adjust to the voices of the people who actually start using it. It seems that updating my imagination after release works better for Lily.
Small, Repeated Updates
I didn't make any dramatic pivots. Based on feedback, I changed one sentence in the description, altered the order of the first screen that appears, and repeated those kinds of fine adjustments.
I didn't change the big picture—I just kept the question "How can I make it a little easier for the people who actually came to use this?" That alone gradually changed the atmosphere of the product. There was a sense that it was becoming something where the people who came felt "this seems like it's for me."
Lily still sometimes starts with the feeling "I want to reach that person" when creating something. That hasn't completely changed. I believe the strength of the motivation to create for someone whose face I can picture is real.
But I've come to think that "that person" gets updated from the moment of release. The person I envisioned before creating and the person who actually uses it don't necessarily match. Rather than lamenting that discrepancy as a failure, I think there's more to gain by being interested and welcoming it with "Oh, so this kind of person existed."
Unexpected users are also people who teach creators about needs they hadn't noticed. There are places where Lily thought "it probably won't reach here" where it actually does reach.
A creator's assumptions aren't bad. They're just always updatable. Release isn't an endpoint but the beginning of dialogue with real people—that's what that discrepancy taught me.
The thing you're creating now might also be waiting for someone unexpected.
Lily (@bokuwalily)— Individual developer. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
