When showing her app to someone, Lily was always a little nervous. No, rather than nervous, to be more precise——she was anxious. From the moment she opened the screen, words would swirl up in her head. "I made this button with this intention," "This feature is still in prototype," "There are actually parts I'd like to improve a bit more." Before the other person had even said anything, Lily's explanations had already begun. This article is about the moment she realized that her talkativeness came from a lack of confidence. And it describes the small things that happened until she could be satisfied with just one word or silence. When doing personal development, there's always a moment when you have to "show" it to someone. I wrote this hoping that moment might become just a little easier.
In the first year of starting personal development, Lily often did app demos for acquaintances. Friends, former colleagues, developers she'd met on social media. Every time someone saw it, the same thing happened.
She would keep explaining while showing the screen.
"This is the top page, and the list here is today's tasks, but this part is still being implemented, I really wanted to add animations, but before that I need to organize the data structure, oh, this button is still temporary……"
Looking back now, it was terrible. The other person would nod along while looking at the screen, but Lily couldn't stop. One day, after a demo ended, she looked at the clock and realized she'd been talking for 7 minutes straight. When the other person finally said "Hmm, that sounds interesting," she'd feel relieved. But that relief would trigger more talking. It was a loop like that.
"Explaining Too Much" Without Realizing It
At the time, I thought it was natural. Isn't it obvious to explain what you've made? But gradually, I started to feel something odd. The longer the explanation, the thinner the other person's reaction became. Even though they were listening, it felt like I was spinning my wheels.
At first I thought "Maybe I'm just bad at explaining." If I could explain better, maybe the enthusiasm would come across more. But the problem wasn't the quality of the explanation.
The turning point came at an online study group. It was a gathering where individual developers showed each other what they'd made, and Lily participated too. When she saw a demo by someone named K, who also ran an app, she couldn't help but say "Oh."
K shared the screen and said just one thing.
"It's an app for recording sleep quality."
That's it. Then they quietly operated it, and it was done. The explanation was just that first sentence.
The people there started reacting: "I'd want to use that," "Does it show sleep scores?" And K answered with a smile, "Oh, that part isn't done yet, but you can check it here……" The conversation grew naturally.
Lily stared at that scene. What was this feeling? K's demo had less information than Lily's, yet somehow it was more engaging.
The Difference Between Us Became Crystal Clear
Lily thought: K didn't explain. They just "placed" the app there. Then the people who saw it said what they felt. That was all it took for conversation to happen.
Lily was doing the opposite. Before placing the app, she wrapped it in lots of words. "It's like this, my intention was this, this part is still in progress, I really wanted to do it this way." Wrapped up so much that the contents became invisible.
That night, Lily thought about why K's demo had been so clean. Laying the two demos side by side in her head, it finally became clear.
She'd been talking too much because she lacked confidence.
The explaining was almost like getting ahead of herself and making excuses.
"This part is still in progress"——that was "apologizing in advance for it not being finished." "I really wanted to do it this way"——that was "explaining the gap between the ideal and reality myself." Pointing out the criticisms before they could be made. That way it wouldn't hurt, I think that was the defense mechanism.
The More Words, the Greater the Anxiety
Things you're confident about don't need much explanation. You can see it for yourself. But when showing something you feel is "still rough, maybe immature," you try to compensate with words.
But of course, that doesn't work. Piling on words doesn't make an unfinished thing look finished. It just communicates "this person isn't confident about this."
What Lily had been doing wasn't protecting the app——it was protecting her own feelings.
The change didn't happen dramatically right after the realization. She didn't decide "I won't explain anymore." She just thought she'd try one thing the next time she did a demo.
Preparing just one opening sentence.
"It's an app for recording time," "You can leave memos by voice," "You can share shopping lists"——anything works. Just one sentence. After saying that, wait for the other person to react.
At first this was scary. If she said nothing, she worried they'd think "Is this weird?" Her heart would race at the thought of silence continuing. But when she actually tried it, the other person just looked at the screen normally and reacted normally. The silence was shorter than she'd feared.
Until I Could Wait
After trying it 2 or 3 times, she noticed something.
The other person's first reaction came before Lily said anything. "Oh, this is easy to understand" or "This part catches my attention." When Lily filled the space with words first, that natural reaction never came.
The explanation had been blocking the other person's impressions.
From there, things gradually got easier. Because she started to think that "waiting" meant trusting what she'd made.
Even now, there are times when she talks too long. Especially when someone touches on something she's still uncertain about, excuses come pouring out.
But now when she notices, she stops herself.
If she thinks "Oh, I'm talking too much again," she says "Well, it's probably faster if you just try it," and wraps it up. That makes a big difference.
And there's one more thing she realized: the question "What would you say in one sentence?" isn't just for demos.
What can't be said in one sentence might be something she hasn't organized in her own mind yet. That question is also a way to confirm the core of what you're making. When the concept is vague, the explanation naturally becomes long. Conversely, when the explanation gets shorter, it's a sign that something has solidified inside you.
Not Explaining Isn't Giving Up
I want to be clear: "not explaining = being indifferent" is not what this means.
It's actually the opposite. You're trusting. You're trusting that what you made will speak for itself. Even if Lily doesn't preface it with words, the people who see the screen will feel something. Believing in that.
That's not giving up——it's respect for what you've made, Lily thinks.
While writing this article, Lily thought a little about the next time she'd do a demo.
She'll probably be nervous again. She'll worry about how it's perceived. The urge to "explain this part" will probably come up.
But she'll take a breath, say just one sentence, and wait. That's all she'll tell herself.
The Lily who talked too much wasn't wrong. She was just scared. While gradually making friends with that fear, she keeps making things today.
Next time you show something to someone, why not try just one sentence? Surprisingly, that's enough.
Lily（@bokuwalily）― Individual developer. Making iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI
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Lily（@bokuwalily）― Individual developer / AI adoption and business automation consultant. Making iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI while consulting on AI adoption and automation for companies
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