The Hidden Skill That Keeps Indie Hackers From Quitting

I’ve been thinking a lot about why so many solo founders quietly disappear. Not the loud failures, not the big pivots that make headlines — but the quiet fade-outs. One week they’re tweeting every day, posting on Indie Hackers, maybe even sharing screenshots of a new landing page. Then the updates slow down. The posts get sparse. And suddenly, they’re gone.

I’ve experienced that exact pattern myself, more than once. You get that initial rush of energy — the domain name, the idea, the first version taking shape. It feels like you’re unstoppable. But then, somewhere around the second or third week, the silence creeps in. You start doubting yourself. The work starts to feel heavy. And without meaning to, you just… stop.

It took me a while to realize there’s a pattern behind this. The problem isn’t that we run out of ideas or that our products are bad. The problem is that we don’t build the muscle that matters most: showing up when no one is watching.

The Myth of “Momentum”
In the indie world, momentum is romanticized. We think of it as this wave that carries us forward — one viral tweet, one Product Hunt launch, one good week, and suddenly things compound. And for a while, it feels true. That wave does carry you. Everything feels easier. You wake up and check Stripe, and there’s a new signup. You tweet, and people respond. You post here, and people comment. It’s like surfing — effortless.

But what we never talk about is what happens when the wave disappears. When Stripe is empty, when no one retweets, when the post you spent an hour writing gets one lonely comment. Momentum vanishes, and you’re left with nothing but yourself and the work. That’s when most indie hackers quit.

What Separates Those Who Quit From Those Who Keep Going
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the ones who survive aren’t necessarily smarter, more technical, or more creative. They just build a different skill: the ability to create momentum from nothing.

This doesn’t mean grinding yourself into burnout. It means learning to work without external fuel. It means writing your code, or your content, or your emails, even when it feels like you’re talking to a wall. It means being able to push through boredom, through the slow middle, through that foggy part of the journey where you can’t even see if you’re heading in the right direction.

The people who can do that, who can outlast that phase, often end up with something real. The people who can’t, fade out.

The Boring Middle
Nobody tells you about the boring middle when you start. We’re so used to reading about indie successes that we assume it’s always exciting. But the truth is that 80% of the journey is profoundly boring.

It’s debugging something that no one will ever notice. It’s answering the same email for the tenth time. It’s rewriting your landing page copy because the last version wasn’t clear enough. It’s small, slow, invisible work.

This is why so many people drop out. The middle doesn’t give you dopamine. It doesn’t reward you quickly. It feels like being in a room where the lights are off — you’re moving, but you have no idea whether you’re closer to the door or just walking in circles.

And yet, this is the stage that matters most.

The Skill You Need to Build
So what’s the skill that keeps you going in that stage? I call it self-generated momentum. It’s the ability to decide that, no matter what, you will keep moving. It’s not discipline for discipline’s sake. It’s a strategy: building a small, daily system that moves your product forward by a fraction every single day, regardless of what’s happening outside.

In my own experience, I started with a rule: ship something every day. It doesn’t matter how small. A single line of code that improves something. A tweet that clarifies my thinking. A reply to one potential user. Something. This tiny act became a way of creating my own momentum. And slowly, that habit turned into progress I could see.

At first, no one noticed. Then a few people did. Then someone asked me about what I was building. And suddenly, the engine had fuel again — not because of luck, but because I refused to let the machine stop while waiting for a big break.

Forget About Big Numbers
There’s another thing that kills a lot of indie projects: the obsession with big numbers too soon. When you’re just starting out, it’s easy to feel like you’re failing if you don’t have hundreds of users or thousands of visitors. I used to refresh my analytics dashboard obsessively. Every time I saw a flat line, my motivation dropped a little.

But one of the biggest mindset shifts I’ve made is this: early on, big numbers are irrelevant. You don’t need 1,000 users. You need five. Five people you can talk to, learn from, and serve deeply. If you can’t make five people happy, why would 1,000 be any different?

This shift has saved me from myself. It takes all the pressure off. Instead of chasing growth, I’m chasing clarity. Instead of looking at traffic, I’m looking at conversations.

Building in Public (For Real)
Another thing that has made a huge difference for me is building in public — but not the glossy kind. Real building in public isn’t about sharing perfect screenshots or MRR updates. It’s about showing the messy process. It’s about saying, “I thought this would work, but it didn’t,” or “I fixed this bug today and here’s what I learned.”

That honesty does two things: first, it attracts the right kind of people, the ones who care about the same problem you’re solving. And second, it keeps you accountable. Even when no one replies, you know you’ve said out loud that you’re working on something. That little social pressure can be enough to keep the wheels turning.

What I’m Learning in Week Two
I’m currently on Day 8 of my latest project. One full week of showing up, and I can already feel the difference. There are still no users, no revenue, no big milestones. But there’s a rhythm forming. A feeling that, brick by brick, I’m building something real. And that’s enough to keep going for now.

I don’t know if this project will succeed. Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. But I do know this: I won’t quit quietly this time. Not because I have more time or better code, but because I finally understand that momentum isn’t something you wait for — it’s something you make.

Final Thoughts
If you’re reading this and you’re in the boring middle of your own project, here’s what I’d tell you: forget about the numbers for a while. Forget about launches and big milestones. Focus on showing up. Build the skill of doing the work even when no one is watching.

Because if you can keep moving during the silent days, the loud days will come. And when they do, you’ll be ready.