Selfish Software

After selling my first company, I found myself in an odd position: I had achieved what many developers dream of, yet I'd lost my drive to create. Success had somehow stripped away the very thing that got me there – the joy of building.

But then something changed. I started writing code just for myself.

This might sound counterintuitive. In a world obsessed with scaling and user acquisition, building software for an audience of one seems almost selfish. But that's exactly what made it powerful. When you're the only user, there's nowhere to hide. You can't rationalize a clunky feature or justify a confusing interface. The feedback loop is immediate and brutally honest.

I call this approach "selfish software," and it's about to become more relevant than ever.

Think about how we typically interact with software today. We contort our workflows to match rigid systems, adapt our thinking to pre-built solutions, and accept compromises in functionality because "that's just how it works." It's backward. Software should conform to us, not the other way around.

This is where artificial intelligence enters the story. AI is quietly demolishing the barriers that once made personal software development impractical. In the past, creating competitive software required teams of developers just to implement table-stakes features. Want to build a note-taking app? Get ready to spend months on basic editing capabilities before you can even think about your unique ideas. But AI is changing this equation, allowing individuals to rapidly implement foundational features and focus on innovation.

The result? We're seeing the emergence of two distinct categories of personal software. First, there's personal software – tools we craft for ongoing use. Then there's what I call "disposable software" – programs generated on the fly by AI for specific, temporary needs. Both represent a fundamental shift in how we think about software creation.

But this isn't just about productivity or efficiency. Personal software development is becoming a form of self-expression, like writing or music. When you build for yourself, you're not just solving problems – you're creating a digital extension of how you think and work.

The educational implications are equally profound. Remember Richard Feynman's famous principle: you don't truly understand something until you can create it. Personal software development embodies this idea perfectly. Want to learn about physics? Build a simulation. Curious about music theory? Create a composition tool. The malleability of software makes it an unparalleled medium for learning through creation.

Critics might argue that personal software is too niche, too individualistic. But that's missing the point. When you build something that scratches your own itch perfectly, you often discover others have been silently suffering the same discomfort. Some of the most successful software products started as personal solutions to individual problems.

There's something beautifully honest about selfish software. The feedback loop is pure: if you're not using what you built, it's not good enough. No market research needed, no user interviews required. You can't fool yourself about its utility because you experience it firsthand.

As our digital world grows more complex, the need for personalized solutions becomes more acute. The era of one-size-fits-all software is fading. We're entering a time where the best tools might be the ones we craft for ourselves, shaped by our unique needs and perspectives.

For me, this approach did more than just restore my motivation to code. It reminded me why I fell in love with software development in the first place – the pure joy of creating something useful, something personal, something real. In a world of increasingly generic solutions, maybe being a little selfish with our software isn't just acceptable – it's essential.