I still remember the day I first set the price. Standing in front of the screen where I had to input a price for something I'd created, I couldn't move my cursor for more than 10 minutes. "It's too expensive," "No one will buy it," "Does this even deserve to be paid for?"—these voices kept circling in my head, and before I knew it, I'd typed in 980 yen. It was a number with no basis. I just somehow felt like "this price might be forgiven." And half a year later, I took the plunge and raised the price to nearly three times that amount. I was terrified. Really terrified. But to my surprise, that was when I first felt, in a genuine way, that I was "actually being bought." This article is an honest account of what I realized at that moment. It's written for people who, like me, are afraid of putting a price on something they've created.
Cheapness Was Not Humility
When Lily released her first product, she thought of pricing as "humility." "It's not perfect yet," "It's my first time," "I don't have a track record"—she felt like there were legitimate reasons for the low price.
But looking back now, she doesn't think that 980 yen was humility. It was an "I'm sorry." It was a self-protective price meant to preemptively ease the guilt of asking people to pay money.
If it didn't sell, she could tell herself "well, it was cheap anyway." If she'd set a high price and it didn't sell, it felt like her creation was being clearly rejected. If she kept it cheap, at least she could blame "the price." She was taking out insurance, in a way.
"I'll Buy It Because It's Cheap" Is Different from "I'll Buy It Because I Want It"
In the first few months, there were some sales. But somehow, there was no sense of satisfaction. When the sale notification came, she'd think "oh, it sold," but instead of being happy, she felt "relieved."
Most of the feedback that came in during that time had the context of "it was cheap so I tried it." That wasn't bad in itself, but something bothered her. She realized later that what she really wanted was the feeling of "this reached the right person." Not "I tried it on a whim," but the sense that it had reached someone who thought "I need this and I'm buying it."
The low price was pushing that feeling away. She was drawing both people with serious purchase intentions and impulse buyers through the same entrance.
What Triggered It Was Seeing Other People's Prices
One day, while researching similar tools made by individual developers, Lily found one with clearly fewer features being sold for more than double her product's price. And it had proper reviews accumulated.
Honestly, she was a bit angry at first. "Why is mine cheaper and theirs more expensive?" But she quickly realized something. Being angry meant she herself believed her product had more value.
Yet the price was lower. That didn't make sense.
I Told Myself, "Even If I Fail, That's Information"
Even after deciding to raise the price, Lily spent a night worrying. "People who bought because of the low price will leave," "People will think it suddenly got expensive," "Sales will definitely drop"—all sorts of things went through her head.
What Lily told herself was: "Even if I fail, that's information." If she raised the price and sales dropped, she'd get information that the price was out of sync with the market. If she raised the price and sales stayed the same, she'd get information that the original price wasn't appropriate. Either way, it wouldn't go to zero.
Even though she understood this intellectually, it still took a moment for her finger to move, but she did change the price. To 2,800 yen.
Purchases Didn't Just Increase—the People Who Bought Changed
In the first week after the price increase, honestly, there were no purchases. She felt a bit discouraged. "I guess that's how it is." But around day 10, purchases started coming in little by little.
Looking at just the numbers, it wasn't more per month than before. But the experience was completely different. The tone of the messages that came after purchase had changed. More people were writing things like "This is exactly what I wanted" and "I found what I was looking for."
The people who were buying had changed. Instead of coming through the entrance of "it's cheap so I'll try it," more people were coming through the entrance of "I need this so I'm buying it." The price had become a filter. In a good way.
The Quality of Feedback Improved
Another change was in the content of the feedback. Before, it was mostly shallow things like "it works" or "I'll try using it," but after the price increase, I started getting specific feedback like "I'm using it this way" and "If you changed this like this, it would be easier to use."
People used it more seriously because they'd paid for it. It might be obvious, but I hadn't felt it when the price was low.
It Was a Problem of Self-Evaluation
After settling down a bit following the price increase, Lily faced a question that had been nagging at her: "Why did I want to price it so low?"
The explanation that she lacked technical confidence was only half right. Actually, she had decent confidence in the features. It worked, and she thought it had real value.
But her evaluation of "something I created" was low.
If someone else had made the same thing, Lily thought she would be able to pay for it properly. But she couldn't bring herself to pay for something she'd made. Why? "Because I made it"—for that reason alone. It wasn't that she was being too lenient with herself; she was being too harsh. Or more precisely—somewhere deep down, she believed she didn't have the right to put a price on something she'd created.
"Someday When I Have Confidence" Never Comes
When talking with a friend who does individual development, they confessed the same worry: "I'm thinking I'll set a proper price once I add a few more features."
Hearing that, Lily felt like she was looking at her past self. "A few more" never comes. Once you add features, "a few more" appears again. With the mindset of "I'll raise the price someday when I have confidence," you'll never raise it.
You don't raise the price because you gain confidence; you gain confidence by raising the price. At least, that was the actual order for Lily.
You Don't Need to "Change Everything"
Even if I suggest "why not try raising the price," there's no need to make a big move all at once. What Lily did first was just add one new plan. There was a period where she kept the existing price the same and created a higher tier plan to see how it went.
She made the complete switch a bit later. Being able to move in stages made the fear a little easier to bear.
The Option of "Just Raise It by 1,000 Yen"
If you're feeling afraid of raising your price right now, I'd like you to try raising it by just 1,000 yen first. Just confirming "whether the number of buyers drops drastically with a 1,000 yen increase" has value as information.
Whatever the result, it's data for understanding the relationship between your product and the market. Failure or success—either way, you're moving forward much more than if you tried nothing.
To be honest, I still feel a little scared when changing prices. Every time I release a new product, that "feeling of the cursor not moving" comes back just a little.
But the nature of the fear has changed. Before, it was the fear of "do I have the right?" Now it's the fear of "will this price actually reach the right people?" The former is a problem of self-evaluation; the latter is a problem of dialogue with the market. The fear of the latter kind gets answered through action.
It's not a neat story where raising the price made everything work out. Honestly, there were products where the price increase didn't work out. But at least, by taking action that day, Lily changed how she approaches "putting a price on something I've created."
It's okay to be scared. But that fear might not be a technical problem—it might be a problem of self-evaluation. If it is, then taking just a small step might change the view just a little. Lily wishes she'd known that on that day with the 980 yen price.
Lily (@bokuwalily)—Individual developer. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
