I’m not a developer.
I see the interface before I see the code.
That’s exactly how I ended up building a Mac app.
Here are my three lessons.
Lesson one
Build the thing you actually have, not the thing you think people want.
I spent a while chasing ideas that sounded impressive, built for a “user” I’d invented in my head. Nothing stuck until I stopped designing for a hypothetical person and built the one problem that was actually mine.
Lesson two
If you can’t explain the problem simply, you don’t understand it yet.
My problem was context switching — losing the small stuff, a color, a link, a file, a snippet, a half-finished thought, every time I moved between tabs and tools.
Once I could say that in one sentence, the product designed itself: a small shelf that holds what you’re still using, pinned at the edge of your screen until you need it again.
Lesson three
The one that actually convinced me this was real: I started using it before it was finished.
Not testing it. Using it.
Every time I reached for it without thinking, that told me more than any amount of planning could. The best use case I found for it was building it.
I called it Tansei, a Japanese word (丹精 / 丹誠) for sincerity and the discipline of doing small things well, again and again.
It’s designed in the spirit of the Mac itself: nothing shouting for attention, nothing there by accident, doing its job and getting out of your way.
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