For the first time in several months, there was a night when I couldn't sleep properly. Gripping my smartphone in bed, I opened the screen I had just searched for again, closed it, opened it again. There was a service that was terrifyingly similar to what I had spent months creating. I genuinely thought, "It's all over." I've come to today without knowing how to put into words the heaviness I felt at that moment, but I finally feel calm enough to talk about it, so I'm going to write about it. I hope this reaches people who have had the same experience, or those who are currently in such a situation.
It was around the time I was putting the final touches on the release, I think.
I was struggling with how to write the service description, and I casually typed a keyword into the search box to use as reference. It wasn't anything as grand as competitive research—it was really just a whim.
What came up was a service that made me think "Oh, this is it" the moment I saw it.
The UI is different. The target users are slightly different. But the fundamental "problem we're trying to solve" is the same, and the skeleton of the experience being provided almost perfectly overlapped with what I had spent months designing. Moreover, they already have hundreds of users. There are many mentions on social media. Reviews are piling up.
My service hadn't been touched by anyone yet.
That night, I couldn't bring myself to write code or documentation. I just stared at the computer screen as the feeling of "maybe this is pointless" slowly grew larger.
The Sensation of Being "Beaten to It"
The next morning, I tried to organize my feelings, but I remained depressed.
It was a strong sensation of being "beaten to it." The problem I had felt was already solved by someone else. What I had been nurturing in my head all this time already existed in the world. When I thought that, all the time I had spent seemed to disappear into mist.
I wasn't doing anything technically special. I hadn't thoroughly researched the market before starting. I had simply started from the feeling of "there's nothing I want to use" and kept building. That's why, I think, when I found out that the same thing already existed, it felt like the ground beneath my feet was crumbling.
From there, a muddy period of days continued.
I would open the competitor's service almost every day and compare it to mine. Their strengths, the refinement of their UI, the number of their reviews, their social media followers. Every time I looked, I felt "I can't win after all," but I couldn't stop.
The Pressure of Numbers
Every time I saw the competitor's user count or review count, what I had built seemed tiny.
Even when I tried to encourage myself by saying "But they don't have ○○" or "We have this kind of feature," somewhere a voice would counter with "But we're the late entrant, and we have zero brand recognition."
The hardest part was that the question "Should I continue this?" never disappeared. I had the passion to create, but the question "Is there meaning in creating?" was putting a lid on that passion.
One night, I opened a notebook for the first time in a while and wrote, "Why did I start making this in the first place?"
When I only think in my head, I go in circles, so I decided to write it out on paper.
What came out was surprisingly simple.
"I wanted to solve something I found inconvenient."
"I thought it would be nice if people like me could have an easier time."
"I love creating, and I wanted to deliver something completed to someone."
When I read this back, I realized, "Oh, even if there's competition, this doesn't change."
"The Same Thing Exists" Doesn't Mean "Don't Make It"
The existence of competition is also proof that there's a need for that problem. For a long time, I had only interpreted it as "being beaten to it," but if I change my perspective, it also means "the problem I identified was real."
Besides, even if you're heading to the same destination, there's more than one path.
When I tried using the competitor's service (yes, I did try it), it was certainly similar, but there were several places where I felt "I don't like this" or "it would be better if it were like this." I thought those would become the outline of what I would create.
I Reconsidered "Who I Want to Reach"
Another thing I realized was that the user image I was envisioning was subtly different from the competitor's.
If the competitor was going in the direction of "broadly usable," I was aiming for something that was "just right for specific people." If the target is different, even a service solving the same problem becomes completely different.
Rather than quitting because "there's competition," it seemed much more meaningful to clarify "who I want to reach" and move forward.
When my feelings were a bit organized, I thought, "So what should I do first?"
I felt like I'd get discouraged again if I tried to do something big, so I decided to restart with really small steps.
First, I carefully read the competitor service's reviews again. I especially collected "this was disappointing" or "I wish this were like this" rather than "this was great," and wrote them down in notes.
Next, I rewrote the scene where I first felt "inconvenient" in concrete terms again. What situation was I in, what was I using, and what was missing?
As I did that, the image of "this is the kind of person I want to reach" became a bit clearer than before.
Imagining a Single User
When my spirits were low, I read on another indie developer's blog about "imagining the face of the person you want to use this service."
I tried it, and surprisingly, it worked.
Instead of an abstract "user," when I imagined "someone in this kind of situation, struggling with this kind of thing, that kind of person," the feeling of "maybe I can continue for that person" slowly came back.
It was completely different from when I was comparing numbers.
Looking back now, that night's discovery was painful in timing, but I think it was a necessary realization.
The best part was confirming that "there's a need." With indie development, once you start creating, there's always the anxiety "Is there really someone who wants this?" The existence of competition, ironically, was the clearest answer to that anxiety.
The next best thing was that it became an opportunity to think about differentiation. When I was vaguely comparing myself to the competitor, I could only see the "points where I was inferior." But once I started seriously thinking about "what's different," I gradually began to see the "parts I won't compromise on" in my service.
And this was the biggest thing: I was able to confirm "my motivation for creating" again. Until that night when I found the competitor, I had been creating somewhat aimlessly. That night gave me the opportunity to put into words "why I create." In a way, I think that might have been a gift.
To be honest, I still haven't released the service.
Since that night, I've been rebuilding and continuing to create little by little, but there are days when I worry about the competitor. There are days when the anxiety "Will anyone really use this?" doesn't disappear.
But what's different from before is that "why I create" is now properly put into words within me.
I'm not trying to create the same thing as the competitor; I'm trying to solve the inconvenience I felt for someone I want to reach. I believe that motivation is still real.
There have been many times when my heart nearly broke. I think there will probably be more. But each time it nearly breaks, I reread what I wrote in that notebook and take another small step forward.
If there's someone standing still in a similar place, let's continue together, slowly.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Indie developer. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
