I built a feature because every other app had it. Then I deleted it.
I was building a personal task app — yes, another one — and caught myself doing what I always do: scrolling through Notion, Todoist, Things, asking "what do they have that I should add?"
Boards. They all had boards. So I built boards.
Then I used my app for a week. I never opened the boards. Not once.
I'd built a ghost feature — something I thought I should have, not something I needed.
The Trap
Every time I start a project, I drift toward the same question: what features should I copy?
It feels like research. It feels like learning from the best.
It's actually a trap.
Copying muffles your creative voice before you've heard it. You're not researching — you're mimicking.
You feel productive because you're building nonstop. But you're not asking the harder question: is this coming from my own experience, or just my habits with other people's apps?
I learned this the hard way. Throughout my career, clients asked me to clone things. "Build me an OLX clone." "Build me a Backpage clone." Over time, the lesson seeped in: to build something, look at existing products and copy them.
It felt mechanical. Like I was just following instructions.
The Feature I Deleted
I wanted a simple project to test a deployment tool I was building. I needed a pet project I'd actually use. So I thought: a todo app. Like most developers, I've always wanted to build one.
My first instinct: build a Trello clone.
But I'm a company of one. No team features needed. I stripped that out. Trello has boards to manage cards — so in my app, I built boards on top of notes.
After testing the prototype, something felt off.
Boards added friction. Too many steps between me and my tasks.
I didn't want boards. I was mimicking a feature.
So I deleted it. No hesitation.
A small voice resisted: "Trello has boards for a reason. They must know something I don't."
But the truth was simpler: boards weren't right for my use case. And Trello's reasons are Trello's — not mine.
I preferred to lose the work than maintain a feature I'd never use.
What Came After
Deleting boards forced me to stop. Actually stop. Not "pause to think about the next feature" — but stop and ask: what do I really want?
How do I think about tasks?
My mind works like a daily journal. I start my day with a list of tasks. Maybe a separate list for errands. That's it. No boards. No layers between me and what I need to do.
This reminded me of bullet journaling — a timeline of notes grouped by date. Simple. Natural. The way my brain already works.
I added one twist: cancelled tasks. Not deleted — cancelled. When I realize I won't complete a task, I mark it cancelled. It stays there as a record of changed priorities. A paper trail of my evolving intentions.
This came from watching myself work. I wasn't copying anymore. I was designing for me.
Here's what hit me: I had spent years bending my workflow to fit other apps. When I built for myself, I could finally build something that matched my thinking — not the other way around.
That's where originality lives. Not in trying to be different. In honestly building for yourself.
Crowded Markets
If I could find originality in the task app market — a market so crowded it's practically a joke — the same approach can work anywhere.
Conventional wisdom says you need a completely original idea to enter a crowded market. Find a blue ocean. Build something no one has seen before.
That's wrong.
You don't need an original idea. You need an opinionated one.
When you build for yourself, you're not imagining customers who don't exist. You're not guessing what features people might want. You're solving a real problem for a real user — you.
This gives your product an edge. You invest time and effort into something you actually use. You make it opinionated because it's made for you, not for some hypothetical market segment.
And here's the thing: others might see your workflow and recognize themselves. "That's how I think too."
By building for yourself, you might accidentally build for people like you.
Deletion Is a Skill
Prototyping copied features isn't a waste of time. Building a feature lets you test it with your own hands. Feel if it fits.
Feels right? Keep it.
Feels wrong? Delete it.
Sounds obvious. Hard to practice. You might spend weeks on a feature, then realize it doesn't belong.
Delete it anyway.
The fear? Sunk cost. "I invested time in this. I can't just throw it away."
But not everything has to grow. Sometimes it's good to shrink. Grow, grow, grow — and your app feels bloated, not polished. Like a garden that's never been pruned.
Deletion is a skill. You can get better at it.
When I deleted boards, something cracked open. I stopped copying and started thinking. I looked for inspiration in unexpected places — bullet journals, not other apps.
The deletion wasn't a loss. It was a liberation.
Trust Yourself
Trust your gut. Make your product your own.
You know you've made it your own when it feels indispensable — not because you copied features others have, but because those features fit how you work.
Building for yourself protects your stamina. You're not forcing yourself to meet others' expectations. You're not pressured to commercialize before you're ready.
You're building something you enjoy — and that joy is fuel.
Even in crowded markets where everything seems done, you can bring your own perspective. Your own way of thinking. Your own opinionated approach.
Copying is the default. Stopping is the skill.
What would you build if you stopped copying and started trusting yourself?
Try this: Pick one feature you added because "everyone has it." Use your product for a week. If you don't use it, delete it. See what happens to your thinking.
I was building a personal task app — yes, another one — and caught myself doing what I always do: scrolling through Notion, Todoist, Things, asking "what do they have that I should add?"
Boards. They all had boards. So I built boards.
Then I used my app for a week. I never opened the boards. Not once.
I'd built a ghost feature — something I thought I should have, not something I needed.
The Trap
Every time I start a project, I drift toward the same question: what features should I copy?
It feels like research. It feels like learning from the best.
It's actually a trap.
Copying muffles your creative voice before you've heard it. You're not researching — you're mimicking.
You feel productive because you're building nonstop. But you're not asking the harder question: is this coming from my own experience, or just my habits with other people's apps?
I learned this the hard way. Throughout my career, clients asked me to clone things. "Build me an OLX clone." "Build me a Backpage clone." Over time, the lesson seeped in: to build something, look at existing products and copy them.
It felt mechanical. Like I was just following instructions.
The Feature I Deleted
I wanted a simple project to test a deployment tool I was building. I needed a pet project I'd actually use. So I thought: a todo app. Like most developers, I've always wanted to build one.
My first instinct: build a Trello clone.
But I'm a company of one. No team features needed. I stripped that out. Trello has boards to manage cards — so in my app, I built boards on top of notes.
After testing the prototype, something felt off.
Boards added friction. Too many steps between me and my tasks.
I didn't want boards. I was mimicking a feature.
So I deleted it. No hesitation.
A small voice resisted: "Trello has boards for a reason. They must know something I don't."
But the truth was simpler: boards weren't right for my use case. And Trello's reasons are Trello's — not mine.
I preferred to lose the work than maintain a feature I'd never use.
What Came After
Deleting boards forced me to stop. Actually stop. Not "pause to think about the next feature" — but stop and ask: what do I really want?
How do I think about tasks?
My mind works like a daily journal. I start my day with a list of tasks. Maybe a separate list for errands. That's it. No boards. No layers between me and what I need to do.
This reminded me of bullet journaling — a timeline of notes grouped by date. Simple. Natural. The way my brain already works.
I added one twist: cancelled tasks. Not deleted — cancelled. When I realize I won't complete a task, I mark it cancelled. It stays there as a record of changed priorities. A paper trail of my evolving intentions.
This came from watching myself work. I wasn't copying anymore. I was designing for me.
Here's what hit me: I had spent years bending my workflow to fit other apps. When I built for myself, I could finally build something that matched my thinking — not the other way around.
That's where originality lives. Not in trying to be different. In honestly building for yourself.
Crowded Markets
If I could find originality in the task app market — a market so crowded it's practically a joke — the same approach can work anywhere.
Conventional wisdom says you need a completely original idea to enter a crowded market. Find a blue ocean. Build something no one has seen before.
That's wrong.
You don't need an original idea. You need an opinionated one.
When you build for yourself, you're not imagining customers who don't exist. You're not guessing what features people might want. You're solving a real problem for a real user — you.
This gives your product an edge. You invest time and effort into something you actually use. You make it opinionated because it's made for you, not for some hypothetical market segment.
And here's the thing: others might see your workflow and recognize themselves. "That's how I think too."
By building for yourself, you might accidentally build for people like you.
Deletion Is a Skill
Prototyping copied features isn't a waste of time. Building a feature lets you test it with your own hands. Feel if it fits.
Feels right? Keep it.
Feels wrong? Delete it.
Sounds obvious. Hard to practice. You might spend weeks on a feature, then realize it doesn't belong.
Delete it anyway.
The fear? Sunk cost. "I invested time in this. I can't just throw it away."
But not everything has to grow. Sometimes it's good to shrink. Grow, grow, grow — and your app feels bloated, not polished. Like a garden that's never been pruned.
Deletion is a skill. You can get better at it.
When I deleted boards, something cracked open. I stopped copying and started thinking. I looked for inspiration in unexpected places — bullet journals, not other apps.
The deletion wasn't a loss. It was a liberation.
Trust Yourself
Trust your gut. Make your product your own.
You know you've made it your own when it feels indispensable — not because you copied features others have, but because those features fit how you work.
Building for yourself protects your stamina. You're not forcing yourself to meet others' expectations. You're not pressured to commercialize before you're ready.
You're building something you enjoy — and that joy is fuel.
Even in crowded markets where everything seems done, you can bring your own perspective. Your own way of thinking. Your own opinionated approach.
Copying is the default. Stopping is the skill.
What would you build if you stopped copying and started trusting yourself?
Try this: Pick one feature you added because "everyone has it." Use your product for a week. If you don't use it, delete it. See what happens to your thinking.