I'm writing this because I want to share a somewhat embarrassing story. During the first six months after Lily started indie development, she kept thinking "maybe I should quit someday" while continuing to develop. It was during the time when she had developed the habit of checking her released app's dashboard every morning, staring at numbers that wouldn't increase, and quietly feeling her spirits sink.
Back then, I knew that even if I told someone, they would just say "that's how it is," so I didn't tell anyone. If you're doing indie development, I'm sure you have some sense of this feeling. Even if it looks like a "hobby" to those around you, you're putting in your full effort, and when the results don't show up in the numbers, it's quietly tough—not something worth telling someone else about.
This essay is about a single DM that arrived on one of those nights. It's not some grand turning point. I just wanted to honestly write about how a short comment from a complete stranger changed the way Lily approached development.
Lily released the app around the time the cherry blossoms were falling. She fixed the last bugs until 4 AM, and with trembling hands, pressed the deploy button. I remember feeling more relief at "it's done" than satisfaction at "I did it."
For a few days right after release, there was some activity. A handful of acquaintances who saw the post on X tried it out, and replies came in saying "I tried it." Lily made two small fixes based on their feedback, and then it went quiet again. The problem came after that.
What the Numbers Didn't Tell
One month after release, monthly active users were 12. Two months later, 11. Three months later, 9. Once the initial momentum from acquaintances wore off, the numbers gradually declined.
Lily kept making small improvements each week. Fine-tuning the UI, improving load times, adding new settings. But the numbers didn't move. Every time she opened the dashboard, she started thinking, "I'd be embarrassed to show these numbers to anyone."
Three months in, one weekend, Lily opened a spreadsheet and calculated the time she'd spent. Fifteen hours per week, thirteen weeks—195 hours total. With all that time invested, there were now 9 active users. That's over 21 hours per person.
Staring at the numbers, she said out loud for the first time, "Maybe it's time to wrap this up." Alone in her room, talking to herself.
Deciding to "quit" is surprisingly difficult. You don't make some grand "withdrawal announcement." You just update less frequently, check the dashboard less often, and before you know it, you've stopped touching it. Lily knew several apps that had ended that way. Her own app was heading in that direction.
One Last Time
Even if she was going to close it, she thought she should at least make a proper announcement. It was only right for the people who had supported her at launch. That night, she started drafting a closing announcement. Starting with "Thank you for using our service for so long."
As she wrote, she felt strange. What does "for so long" mean? Had anyone really used it enough to deserve a "thank you for using"? Were those 9 active users actually still using it, or had they just created accounts and forgotten about them?
Not quite sure, she saved the draft and went to bed.
The next morning, there was a DM notification on her phone's lock screen. Not through the app's messaging feature, but a direct message on X. The sender was an account she didn't know—not a follower, not an acquaintance, a complete stranger.
The message said this:
"I use it as part of my morning routine. I like how simple it is."
That's all. No emojis, no formal language, no questions. Just that.
One of the Nine
Lily read that DM over and over. The word "morning" stuck in her head. Morning. Which meant this person had Lily's app as part of their morning routine.
Nine had always felt like a "small number" to Lily. But it didn't matter to the sender. This person opened the app every morning. Without knowing Lily, without knowing the behind-the-scenes work, they quietly kept using it for their own mornings.
It might seem obvious, but that was the first time Lily truly felt what it meant to be "used." The "9" on the dashboard was just a number, but this DM was a person.
Lily immediately wrote a reply:
"Thank you for using it. I was happy to hear 'morning routine.' I'll keep going."
After hitting send, she realized she'd written "I'll keep going." The night before, she'd been drafting a closing announcement.
She Changed Only One Thing
Starting that week, Lily changed one thing in her development approach. Before adding new features, she set aside time once a week to check "is anyone currently using this having problems?"
Specifically, she'd check the error logs in the app and look at the difference between screens that were used frequently and those that weren't. Simple work. But now that she knew "there are 9 people," she could imagine those 9 people while looking at the logs.
The following month, monthly active users went back up to 11. She doesn't know if the person who sent the DM is still using it. But she found herself less caught up in the ups and downs of the dashboard numbers.
Indie development is fundamentally lonely. Without a team, there's no one to chat with about "how did today's release go?" Whether things go well or poorly, it mostly stays contained within yourself.
Lily likes that solitude in some ways, but the flip side is that external feedback is extremely rare. User reactions appear as numbers, but numbers have no emotion. You can see "increased" or "decreased," but not "why they're using it" or "how they're using it."
That's why that single sentence hit so hard. "I use it as part of my morning routine"—just that one fact.
Properly Receiving Small Things
After that DM, Lily started consciously recognizing "being used in someone's life" separately from the numbers. Whether monthly active users reach 100 or 1,000, all those people open the app for some reason. That's not something to take for granted—it's something real.
If there's someone thinking about quitting indie development, there's just one thing Lily wants to tell them. Not "keep going" or "do your best," but just once, ask your active users directly. Through messaging, a contact form, or X notifications. "How do you like using it?"
You might not get a response. But if you do, no matter how small the numbers, it might change whether you decide to continue. At least, that's what happened for Lily.
It would be easy to end this essay by writing "I'm glad I didn't quit." But Lily can't quite say that.
If she'd finished that announcement and properly closed the app, that might have been the right choice too. Continuing isn't always correct, and quitting isn't failure. The fact that she spent 195 hours over three months and reached 9 people could be a reason to quit or a reason to keep going.
But for Lily, that DM became a reason to think "maybe I can keep looking a little longer." That was enough.
Everyone continuing development probably has their own "a little longer," and today they're probably jotting down ideas, staring at dashboards, or wondering whether to show it to someone.
Lily hopes that "a little longer" comes from somewhere for all of you.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Indie developer. Making iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
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Lily (@bokuwalily) — After leading a marketing organization of 50+ people as CMO, now making iOS apps and web services independently. Available for consulting on customer acquisition, user flow design, and AI implementation/business automation.
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