When you keep making something on your own, at some point you start caring about "how many people have used it." Download counts, active users, retention rates. While staring at these numbers, asking yourself "is it really reaching people?" becomes part of a solo developer's daily life. But the other day, I noticed something that wasn't a number or a social media notification, and I found myself frozen in front of the screen for a while. When I caught a glimpse of someone using my app through scattered words and phrases, I truly realized for the first time that "being used" and "becoming a habit" are completely different things. Today, I want to write about that realization. Not a success story, but a small and quiet event. I'd be happy if it reaches even one person who is also continuing to make something.
I released my first personal development app about three years ago. I thought it was "convenient" enough myself, so I posted it on social media. In the first week, about a hundred people used it.
It felt like a dream. For me at that time.
After that, it went as you'd expect. Active users gradually declined, and a month later it was down to single digits. What I felt then was a sense of "it was just thrown away after all," and whether the numbers were going up or down, there was always a restless feeling.
I didn't understand what lay beyond the numbers
In the end, I think both the number hundred and the single digits were just "symbols" to me. I had no idea who was opening the app or in what situation, what expression they had while using it. I was just watching a counter go up and down, and the numbers gave no answer to the question "is it really helpful?"
For the next app, I wanted to make something with "actual demand." After researching, I landed on "an app that combines sleep logs and diary," and spent three months making it.
On release day, it wasn't used at all.
The reason was pretty clear: existing apps in the same category were just too strong. After much deliberation, I stripped away most of the features and remade it into "a simple diary app where you can write just one line at night." Thinking "who would even use something like this?" I released it anyway.
Failures stick in memory longer
Now, I actually quite like how spectacularly I missed the mark. I think there are times when "making something with demand" works out, but at that time, I didn't have the axis of "who do I want to help and what do I want to solve?" I was just borrowing someone else's answer in the form of demand, without having my own question. I was able to realize that because I failed.
The diary app I remade by stripping things down was really quiet in the first month. But someone kept using it. A tiny number stayed there, almost unchanged, every single day.
I think it was about half a year after I remade the app. A message arrived in the feedback form.
"Every morning, I write about the night before in this app while drinking coffee. I like how simple it is. I've kept it up."
That was all the message said. I didn't know their name, age, or what kind of life they lived. But when I read that one line, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen for a while.
The difference between "using" and "continuing"
"Using" is a verb. It expresses the fact of performing an action. But "continuing" means it's already become automatic for that person. For the person who sent that message, opening my app and drinking their morning coffee were in the same drawer.
Reading that, I truly realized for the first time: "Ah, being used and becoming a habit are completely different things."
Numbers don't show that. "One person who opens it every day" and "one person who opened it only on the first day" are both counted as "one." But they're completely different. The message taught me that.
After that, I started thinking a lot about my own daily habits. I myself have a routine of sorts from the moment I wake up each morning. I make coffee, open the window, check my smartphone, look at the weather app. No one taught me, and I didn't consciously decide it—I just realized one day that's what I was doing.
I think habits are usually not something you consciously create. They quietly slip into someone's life, and before you know it, they're there. My creation had become that kind of presence.
A small role on a small screen
My app doesn't change the world. It doesn't have the power to solve big problems. But it existed in someone's morning for just five minutes. That was a heavier fact than I'd imagined.
Heavy, not in the sense of burden, but in the sense of something you shouldn't treat lightly. Being woven into someone's morning means becoming part of their rhythm. You can't break it, and you can't change it arbitrarily. But you also want to make it better. Both came at the same time.
After receiving that message, my approach to development changed a little.
The desire to add big features receded somewhat. Instead, I started spending time on "making what already exists work more quietly and more reliably." I fixed parts that were slow to load. I made the font slightly more readable. When opened at night, I made it easier on the eyes. They were all mundane changes, maybe not worth mentioning in release notes, but I felt like I was polishing it for someone's morning.
Creating isn't just about making from zero
There's an image that solo developers should keep making new things, that it's cool. When you look at portfolios, works line up in rows, and there's an atmosphere of "the more you have, the more dedicated you are."
But now I feel that taking time to refine one app for a long time has equal value. Quietly maintaining something that has become someone's daily habit. It's mundane, but I think that's the most sincere way to engage with it.
In the end, "becoming a habit" happens in places you can't easily see. If the retention rate graph in your analytics goes up, you can think "oh, maybe it's being continued." But how it's being opened in what morning light doesn't show up in the numbers.
Feedback words that arrive sometimes, a line in a review, a casual "I've been using this lately" someone writes on social media. Fragments of habit fall in those places. I want to make sure not to miss them. I want to collect them and increase my resolution on what I create.
I want to quietly cherish the fact that I've become someone's "usual." I'm not honestly chasing big viral moments or rapid growth anymore. Rather, I'd prefer to stay by one person's morning forever.
If you're doing personal development and have ever felt "I know people are using it, but is that enough?" please try reading the feedback you've received again. The fragments of habit are surely there.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Solo developer. Making iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
