Tomorrow We Buy the Prompt
Three articles occupied me this week. In 2020, Robin Sloan described how an app can be like a home-cooked meal β built for four people, for no one else. Five years later, David Pierce at The Verge declares the personal software revolution. And Thomas Ptacek shows on sockpuppet.org how he builds himself a custom Markdown viewer in 30 minutes. All three describe the same phenomenon β from the outside. I’m right in the middle of it.
I’m currently developing a tool for monitoring websites. It should detect changes to content and notify me when something happens. There are already services that offer exactly this function, and some of them are very good. But all of them charge a fee.
I won’t be buying any of these products. Not because they’re bad, but because I spent a weekend working with Claude and in just a few hours we developed a solution that meets my requirements better than any of those products. Not in spite of that fact, but precisely because of it.
Because purchased software has to fit many people. It makes decisions in favor of interoperability, not in favor of my process. It’s built to fit into a hundred different workflows β and therefore fits none of them perfectly. My software only has to work in a single context: mine. That’s not a compromise. That’s a structural advantage.
And then came the question that hasn’t let me go since: If I can do this β what am I actually still buying?
From Idea to Prompt β a Process, Not a Moment
The answer is more uncomfortable than expected: less than today β but not because of price.
The prompt is not the starting point. It is the result.
Building is the method by which you force understanding. You start, run into questions you didn’t have before, and make decisions that sharpen the idea. At the end you have not just a tool β but an understanding of the problem precise enough to describe it.
Only now does the prompt emerge β the one you can pass on.
The real work is not the building. It is the understanding. Anyone who has never iterated themselves, who has never run up against the limits of a vague idea, doesn’t have a prompt β they have a wish list.
And wish lists can’t be sold.
The Invisible Hurdle
While writing this article, I notice: I need a small tool. A Markdown editor that lets me leave annotations directly in the text β not in a separate document, not via copy-paste, but inline, next to the paragraphs. Something like comments in Google Docs, but for my local workflow.
I know I could build it. I have a rough idea of what it would look like. And yet I hesitate.
Not because of cost. Not because of missing competence. But because of the 20 minutes. Or is it two hours? Or more? The hesitation doesn’t arise from inability, but from uncertainty about the effort β and from the quiet fear of getting stuck in the middle of another task.
That is the new hurdle. It is no longer technical. It is psychological.
Anyone who works with AI assistants today quickly notices: the building itself is no longer the problem. The problem is knowing what you want. Precisely enough to describe it. Concretely enough to take the first step. The barrier has shifted β from being able to wanting to. And that is a skill you have to practice.
The Other Side: What Do You Sell Then?
If I can build a tool that serves my needs better than a commercial product, what does that mean for providers of such products? What does it mean for everyone who sells software?
Take my monitoring tool as a thought experiment: suppose I wanted to offer it. What would my product be? The software itself? That’s replicable in a few hours. The code? Meaningless once someone runs the same prompt. The infrastructure? Commodity.
What remains is the idea. The observation that a particular problem exists. The precise description of what a solution should look like. The judgment to recognize when the result is good.
That sounds abstract. But it isn’t.
Writing a prompt for a good monitoring tool is not a trivial task. It must describe the problem precisely: What kind of changes interest me? How should notification work? What are the edge cases? What is explicitly not wanted? A vague prompt produces vague software. The work has shifted β from typing code to thinking about the problem.
The Thesis: The Idea Becomes the Asset
Ideas always need a medium. Music needs a recording, a book needs a publisher, a film needs a studio. In all these cases, the production barrier separates the idea from its realization β and whoever controls the means of production controls access to the market.
Software was the same β but with one crucial difference. With music or books, someone had to produce. With software, someone had to translate. The idea existed in a language that machines didn’t understand. Developers weren’t producers β they were interpreters. And interpreters are hard to replace.
The code was the asset, because the translation was the actual work.
That is no longer true.
Code is today as easy to produce as text. What has value is the description of what the code should do. The context. The knowledge about the user, the problem, the constraints. The ability to formulate a problem so precisely that a machine can solve it.
In other words: the specification is the product.
This is a radical shift. Not because developers become superfluous β whoever judges whether the result is good still needs deep understanding. But the value creation sits elsewhere. It sits with the person who knows the problem, who asks the right questions, who recognizes when the solution is done.
Today we buy software. Tomorrow we buy the prompt.
Where This Applies β and Where It Doesn’t
This is the question I cannot answer definitively. And honestly: one I don’t want to answer. Because I believe the right answer depends on context β and that it is only now beginning to emerge.
My observation: it applies everywhere software is a tool. Where it fulfills a clearly defined task that someone who understands the problem can describe.
It may apply less where software is a network. Where the value lies not in the functionality but in the critical mass of users. Where integration, trust, and reliability have been built over years.
And it may not apply at all where software is regulated infrastructure β where certifications, liability, and compliance are the actual service, not the code.
But these are my provisional answers. I’m curious about yours.
Where in your work are you still buying software today that you would build yourself tomorrow? And conversely: where are you still developing something by hand even though a well-formulated prompt could do it just as well?
What Remains
I will keep developing my monitoring tool. Not because I think I can build a business with it. But because it does exactly what I need β and because I learned in the process how to describe the next problem.
That feels like the more important competence. Not the building. The describing.
Those who learn to formulate problems precisely will not be replaced. They will be the ones who instruct the machine.
And that, I think, is a pretty good position.
This article is the first in a loose series about software, AI, and the question of what actually has value.