This is an embarrassing story, but I felt compelled to write it. I thought that if you're doing solo development, you might have had a similar experience. It was about six months ago. I implemented a feature I had been nurturing for a long time in my own app. Detailed filtering options, custom displays for different states, support for keyboard shortcuts. After carefully considering each specification and adjusting the UI details many times, when I thought it was "complete," I was deeply satisfied. This is the best feature I've ever made, I thought. Three months after release, I checked the usage logs. Only 2% of all users had ever touched that feature.
From conception to implementation, I basically went it alone
This idea was entirely my own. I had a confident hunch that "users must want this kind of detailed control." I looked at similar services and tried to fill what I felt was missing. My motivation was pure.
But looking back now, I never asked users about it. I never posed the question on social media like "How about a feature like this?" and I never sent direct messages to people using the app. I think there was a quiet assumption that "if I make it and show them, they'll be amazed."
While implementing, I was genuinely having fun
While I was making it, I was completely absorbed. I spent entire weekends on it, and wrote a little bit on weekday evenings too. Every time the specifications came together, it felt good, and every time it started working, there was a sense of accomplishment.
I still think this feeling isn't a bad thing. The joy of creating can sometimes be reason enough to create. But the problem was that this joy had somehow been replaced by "confidence that it would be used."
When I saw the logs, at first I thought "maybe the counting method was wrong." Next I thought "maybe the UI is just hard to understand." And after a while, I quietly admitted it. It wasn't that it wasn't being used—it was that it wasn't needed.
What came before disappointment was "emptiness"
Rather than sadness or frustration, there was a strange emptiness. After spending all that time. After loving it so much. That feeling of "loving it" was real, but it was completely separate from whether users actually needed it.
It's obvious when you think about it, but this was the first time I truly felt it in my bones.
I actually investigated why it wasn't being used
After a while, I gathered a little courage. I sent messages to a few people who were using the app. "Are you using the filter feature?" I asked.
The answers that came back were kind and straightforward. "I noticed it existed, but it's a bit hard to get to." "With how I use it, I don't really need it." "I want to keep things simple, so whether it's there or not doesn't matter."
There wasn't a single word of blame. But because of that, it stung. The users weren't at fault. The feature might not have been bad either. It's just that I hadn't confirmed the timing, the way I presented it, or whether it was actually needed.
Through this experience, I began to see the assumptions I had been carrying.
I think I believed that "if you make a good feature, it will naturally get used." I thought that high quality and being used were equivalent. But that was just "creator's perspective pride."
What are users struggling with? In what context do they interact with it? Do they even notice the feature exists in the first place? These things don't automatically get communicated no matter how carefully you implement them. If you don't try to communicate them, it just exists.
The "Gap" Wasn't a Failure—It Was a Starting Point
But realizing this gap actually made things easier. I didn't have to interpret "why it's not being used" as a problem with my own lack of talent.
I think gaps are natural. The creator and the user have fundamentally different perspectives. That's why adjustment is necessary. It's normal, nothing to apologize for, nothing to feel down about. I do reflect on skipping the confirmation process, but I can't bring myself to regret making the feature in the first place.
Since this experience, there have been a few small changes. Not a major shift in direction, but quiet and definite ones.
The Small Habit of "Talking Before Making"
Now, at a stage where things are somewhat formed, I try to talk to one or two people. I learned that asking "is this something you'd want?" in the middle is far more meaningful than surprising them after completion.
At first, I resisted asking. I had feelings like "it's embarrassing to show something that's not finished yet" and "what if I get criticized?" But I've come to feel it's much kinder to both sides. It's far better than quietly feeling down after launch when "nobody used it."
When you ask in the middle, sometimes you get answers like "that's not the problem—this is what's actually bothering me." At first I was confused by these answers, but now I think "I'm glad I asked" every time. It's so much easier than finding out after implementation.
Not Hiding "Features That Weren't Used"
Another thing that changed is that I stopped hiding failures. Writing this article is part of that.
When I say "there's a feature nobody used," people who've had similar experiences react. That becomes unexpected connections, or perspectives I can use in planning the next feature. Failure stories sometimes gather more resonance than completion announcements. I was genuinely surprised when I realized that.
Sometimes conversations continue more with stories of what didn't work than with boasts about completed features. That might be because there are overwhelmingly more people who have experienced things not working out.
One last thing.
Through this experience, I strongly felt that I don't want to deny "the joy of creating." Making something without being asked, without confirmation it will be used—making it because you want to. I think that impulse is the most important energy for continuing solo development.
But not substituting that joy for "being used." Creating and delivering are different skills that require different effort. That log quietly taught me that.
I still take a little pride in that feature nobody used. Because it was definitely something I made carefully. But next time, I want to try delivering it carefully too.
If anyone else has had a similar experience, please tell me. I think we can laugh about it together.
Lily (@bokuwalily) — Solo developer. Making iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
