Last month, on a whim, I searched for my app's name and found a video from someone I didn't know. The thumbnail used a screenshot of the app I created, with text that read "How to Use・Complete Explanation!" The video had nearly 30,000 views. The comment section was filled with words like "It was easy to understand" and "Thank you so much," and I couldn't take my eyes off the screen for a while. I hadn't promoted it. I hadn't announced it. I'd never asked anyone to share it on social media. Yet, some stranger had discovered my app, used it themselves, recorded a video, and explained how to use it. I'm not sure if I'm putting that feeling into words well, but today I absolutely had to write this down, which is why I'm typing away at my keyboard.
That day, I had opened a search engine for a different purpose. I thought I'd casually check the app's review status, so I typed in the app name as is.
In the search results, there was a section with video thumbnails near the top. At first, I thought it was an advertisement or something and was about to scroll past, when my hand suddenly stopped. A familiar UI. A familiar color scheme.
"...This is my app."
When I clicked on it, it was a proper video. It alternated between screen recordings and shots of the creator's hands actually operating the app, with explanations of the features appearing as text overlays, and the creator explained how to use it carefully. The comments included reactions like "I didn't know such an app existed" and "I downloaded it right away"—more than 10 comments in total.
That night, I couldn't move for a while. Of course, I felt happy, but more than that, there was a quiet realization: "Oh, it reached someone."
What I Thought First
To be honest, the first thing that crossed my mind was "Wait, did they get permission? Is that okay?" (laughs). Of course, since I had released the app publicly, there was nothing wrong with someone making a how-to video about it, but I think my feelings just hadn't caught up with the fact that my app had become the subject of a video.
Permission—I hadn't even known about it. The app I had quietly released half a year ago and had been silently adding features to ever since.
This app was something I created individually. No team, no funding, no deadlines—just little by little on weekend mornings and late nights after work.
On the day I released it, I posted just one post on X. "I made it," with an image attached. It got 7 likes. I thought, "Well, that's about right for someone with few followers," and didn't stare at the screen for long.
"I Couldn't See If Anyone Was Actually Using It"
The number of installations was growing little by little. But numbers are just numbers. I had no idea what kind of people were actually using it, or whether it was helpful at all.
There were no reviews at first, and when a star finally appeared three months later, I was genuinely shocked. The comment just said "Simple and good," and I had no idea who wrote it or how they were using it. But I took a screenshot of that one comment and saved it. I still have it.
I can create things. I can add features. But I realized that the hardest part of solo development is actually feeling like your work is being used.
I Almost Gave Up Once
About eight months after release, I had almost stopped updating the app.
Being busy was half true. But to be honest, the exhaustion of continuing to create without knowing if anyone was actually using it had accumulated. When I improved the notification permission screen, I had no way to verify how much had changed before and after. No feedback came. I was the only one making it.
There were several nights back then when I thought, "Maybe I should just leave it as is."
When I visited the creator's channel, I saw they had uploaded several app introduction videos. My app's video had one of the higher view counts among them.
Reading through the comments one by one, I noticed perspectives like "Oh, you can use it this way too," and I realized that some people were using it in ways I hadn't intended. One comment said "The ◯◯ feature is especially helpful," and that feature was something I had agonized over whether to implement before finally adding it at the very last moment.
"The Fact That Someone Chose It"
What I haven't done is promote it. I've barely done any search optimization. The app store description is minimal. Yet, I was still being found. People were continuing to use it. It had become so integrated into someone's life that they made a video about it.
This fact taught me all at once something that numbers can't convey. Installation count is "the number of times it was downloaded," not "the amount of time it was used." But in the video, there was real usage. There were actual hands using it, a voice saying "tap here," and comments saying "I'll try it too."
Seeing that, I finally realized that this app wasn't living in "numbers"—it was living in "someone's time."
I didn't want to just end it with emotion, so the following week I took one small action.
I sent a message to the creator through the comment section: "Thank you for making this video. I'm Lily, the creator."
This was scary. "What if they think I'm promoting it?" "What if they think I'm a weird person?" I worried for about 30 minutes. But I sent it.
The reply came three days later: "This is the first time a creator has contacted me. I'll keep using it."
Reading that sentence, I cried a little.
One More Thing I Did
That comment in the video that said "The ◯◯ feature is really helpful." I expanded that feature slightly in the next update. Because I knew that someone using it needed it.
I barely made any announcements. But this time, I wrote the update notes a bit more carefully. "We improved this based on feedback from users who use it this way." I didn't know if it would reach them, but I hoped it would.
I think anyone doing solo development is constantly fighting against the smallness of the feedback loop.
When you make a product with a team, there are user interviews, data, and reactions from team members. But when you work alone, most of that is missing. There are fewer ways to verify that what you've made is "reaching someone."
That's why there comes a moment when you think, "Maybe no one is using this anymore." It happened to me too. Whether you can keep creating in those moments is, in a way, a matter of luck and personality, I thought.
But this experience taught me something. Feedback exists in places you have to look for it.
Search for your app name in videos. Read reviews one by one. Do ego searches for your app name on social media. None of this is new, and there's nothing groundbreaking about it. But I had simply assumed "it might not be reaching anyone" and hadn't looked, when in fact it was reaching people. I just hadn't seen it.
"The Reason to Keep Creating" Can Come Later
Some people start creating because they want someone to use it from the beginning, and others start because they wanted it themselves. I'm the latter—it started as almost entirely for my own use.
That app ended up being used in someone else's hands too, without me realizing it. And I found out about it more than a year after release. That kind of thing can happen.
Some people might laugh at joy that comes late, or meaning that arrives delayed. But I think it was still good. Even if the timing was late, if I could know about it while there was still time to receive it, that's enough.
Since finding that video, I've been opening my code editor more often.
One stalled feature started working. That complicated screen transition I'd been putting off for months. Once that feeling of "someone might need this" came back, my hands suddenly started moving.
If there's anyone out there right now thinking "I'm a bit tired because I don't know who this is reaching," I'd encourage you to search for your app or service's name once. There might be a video, or there might not be. But you might find something.
That search melted away a year and a half of exhaustion for me.
What you create enters someone's life in places you don't see. That really does happen.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Solo developer. Creating iOS apps and web services with AI as my partner.
