For nearly a year after releasing my app, I had only been "looking at" reviews without responding. Every morning I'd open my phone, check the developer dashboard, quietly read any new comments, and quietly close it. If the star rating went up, I'd feel a little relieved. If a harsh comment came in, I'd lose my appetite at lunch. I repeated these days over and over. I knew there was a reply function available, but it never felt like something "I would use." But one weekday evening, I pressed the "reply" button for the first time. I only sent two sentences. Yet the moment I hit send, I felt something shift subtly. The lonely development hours suddenly looked like "an exchange with someone." Today, I want to write honestly about that night.
In the beginning, I checked the review section almost daily. I couldn't help but be curious. But I noticed that checking every time made me emotionally exhausted, so I gradually reduced the frequency. Once a week, then still scared, and before I knew it, I was checking once a month.
Why Even Good Reviews Scared Me
It might sound strange, but good reviews scared me a little too. When I saw words like "It's easy to use" or "I use it every day," I felt happy but also pressured. If this person is using it every day, what if I break something in the next update? Joy and anxiety came as a package, so I gradually wore myself out every time I received one.
Bad Reviews Were Even Scarier
Bad reviews don't need explanation. When I saw a single comment like "There's a bug" or "It's hard to use," that comment alone would loop in my head for hours. The urge to argue, the feeling of guilt, and inexplicable anger all mixed together, and I'd end up closing the screen without doing anything. That was the pattern every time.
The reasons for not replying weren't just one. "I don't know what to say," "What if I write something weird and it causes backlash?" "I don't even know if they'll read it." These small anxieties piled up, and even though the reply button existed, it was never an option for me.
That changed in the fall of last year. Around 11 PM, while checking my phone in bed, a new review came in. Two stars.
The Words "Almost Perfect"
The review said something like this: "It's almost perfect, but there's just one thing that bothers me." Specifically, it was about a button being a bit hard to see on a particular screen.
I stared at the screen for a while. It wasn't an insult. Rather, they had actually used it, and they gave me thoughtful feedback. Despite the 2-star rating, the tone of the text was very calm, and I could sense the feeling of "it would be even better if..."
"I want to reply to this person," I thought for the first time.
Still, I couldn't press it right away. I started composing a response in bed, but no matter how many times I wrote it, it felt "wrong," so I'd delete it.
"Thank you for the feedback"—too safe.
"We'll address it in the next update"—I can't make promises when I don't know if I can do it.
"I'll check"—it feels a bit cold somehow.
After hesitating like that for a while, the text I finally sent was this:
"Thank you for using it. The part you pointed out is something I've been concerned about too. I'll think about how to make it more visible."
It's simple. I didn't say anything special. But it was a sentence that only expressed what I truly felt. I pressed send just before the date changed.
Right after sending, I felt a little regret. "Did I do something unnecessary?" "Will they think it's weird?" But at the same time, I felt strangely lighter.
Until then, I think I had seen reviews as "judgments." Being rated on a 5-point scale, with my (and the app's) value being determined. That's how I saw it. But while writing the reply, for the first time, I was thinking about "the person who wrote the review." What kind of situation does this person use this app in?
The moment I pressed the reply button, the review section, which had been a string of numbers, looked a little different.
The Next Day, a Notification Came
The next evening, they updated their review. The rating changed from 2 stars to 4 stars, and the comment said: "I didn't expect to get a reply, so I was surprised. Thank you."
To be honest, I almost cried. Funny, right? Over just one exchange. But the feeling I had at that moment was real. Someone was using my app, they told me what they felt, and I responded. Just that, and yet development suddenly felt like something that was "truly connected to the world."
When you develop an app solo, you often feel lonely. If you had a team, you could consult with someone and share progress. But alone, everything stays contained within yourself.
I can see user numbers. How much they're using it, where they drop off. But that's "statistics," not "people." I know someone is using it, but who they are and what they feel is very vague.
Reviews Were "Messages"
I realized for the first time after replying that reviews were like letters. There's a person who wrote them, feelings are embedded in them, and they've reached me. I had only been receiving them without writing back.
Of course, I don't think everyone expects a reply. But knowing that "someone is reading" might change how you deliver things. And for myself too, being able to face it as "dialogue" rather than "judgment" made a big difference in my mindset. It's like feeling the presence of people in what I created.
I need to write this or I'd be lying: even now, I can't reply to every review.
Sometimes I still struggle to face harsh comments. When I feel misunderstood by a review, I want to argue back, and it's hard to swallow that feeling. Some days I can't bring myself to send just "Thank you," because my heart isn't in it.
But one thing has changed. Opening the review section isn't as scary as it used to be. I think it's because I can now see it as "voices that have reached me" rather than "judgments." Whether I reply or not is separate—I've started reading them properly.
Starting Small Is More Important
If you think "I have to reply to everything," the pressure paralyzes you. That was me too. But replying to just one voice, the one you truly "want to reply to," with honest words—that alone changes something. At least within yourself.
I don't think the reply needs to be perfect or use elaborate language. Just conveying "I read this" and "Thank you" is enough. Like the two sentences I sent that night.
Finally, let me write something a bit personal.
When you keep doing solo development, there are moments when you wonder "why am I doing this?" When download numbers plateau, when you're chasing bug fixes, when similar services launch. In those moments, I honestly think "is this even meaningful?"
That reply to the review became a support in those times. It might sound exaggerated, but it's true. The memory of "someone was using it, and I could exchange words with them" accumulated, and development started to feel a little more like "an act of connecting myself with someone."
If there's someone out there who's been unable to press the reply button, I'd like you to try just once. Even just expressing gratitude is fine. Even one sentence.
Responding to someone's words with your own words. That alone opens a small window in lonely work. For me, that night was it.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Solo developer. Making iOS apps and web services with AI as my partner.
