I have a complicated relationship with productivity apps. I’ve downloaded them on a whim, evangelised a favourite for a week, and then abandoned others under a pile of digital guilt. Over time I learned that the tool isn’t the problem—my expectations and habits are. Some apps genuinely help me do better work; others quietly become clever ways to procrastinate. If you’ve ever wondered whether a shiny new app is making you more productive or simply stealing minutes (and sometimes hours) from your life, here are the questions, experiments and practical signs I use to tell the difference.

Ask the simple question: what problem did I download this to solve?

Before you open the app for the hundredth time, stop and ask why it exists on your device. I try to name the specific problem in one sentence: “I want fewer open tabs,” “I need a way to capture ideas quickly,” or “I want to stop doomscrolling.” If the app doesn’t address that sentence — or if you can’t remember the sentence — it’s a red flag.

Good apps are surgical: they solve a single friction point and let you get back to work. Bad apps offer a buffet of features that feel useful until you realise you spent an hour customising categories instead of doing the actual task.

Track outcomes, not usage

One trap is mistaking frequent interaction with value. I used to treat “I checked my task list 50 times today” as a win. Then I looked at actual outcomes: how many tasks completed, how much creative time had I protected, whether my evenings felt less chaotic. I now measure apps by two simple outcomes:

  • Completion rate: Did the app increase the percentage of planned tasks you finished?
  • Quality of time: Did it increase blocks of uninterrupted work or reduce stress?

    • If usage goes up but completion or quality of time stays the same or drops, the app is likely a time sink. Tools like RescueTime or Toggl can help quantify this: RescueTime tells you where your attention goes, while Toggl shows how many hours you’re spending on meaningful tasks versus tweaking the tool itself.

    Look for friction reduction, not feature proliferation

    I prefer tools that remove decisions for me. A simple example: I used to organise notes in a hyper-customised Notion workspace. It felt beautiful, but every note took extra time to file. Switching to a simpler capture app (I now use Obsidian for longer pieces and Apple Notes for quick capture) reduced friction and increased my willingness to jot things down.

    Ask yourself:

  • Does this app save me a step in my normal flow?
  • Does it reduce unnecessary choices?
  • Or does it add a new micro-task (customising, tagging, arranging)?

    • Timebox a trial and set success metrics

    I try apps for a limited time with clear metrics. Typical trial structure I use:

  • Two-week trial period — long enough to form a habit, short enough to stay accountable.
  • One primary metric — e.g., number of tasks completed, percentage of deep work hours, or number of distractions blocked.
  • One subjective metric — e.g., how calm or productive I feel at the end of the day.

    • At the end of the trial I compare metrics and make a simple binary decision: keep or delete. No guilt, no “maybe later.” This forced experiment prevents borderline usefulness from cementing into monthly subscription regret.

    Watch for “meta-work” creep

    Meta-work is work about work: sorting, organising, planning infinite lists instead of doing. Some apps make meta-work feel productive because your brain enjoys organising. That satisfaction is seductive; it’s why kanban boards and elaborate tags can become rituals rather than instruments.

    Signs of meta-work creep:

  • You spend more time organising tasks than completing them.
  • You constantly reorganise categories or workflows but don’t reduce your task list.
  • New features spark long setup sessions that don’t change your outcomes.

    • If meta-work shows up, I either simplify the system or remove the app entirely. Simpler systems — a single daily list in Things or a paper index card — often outperform complexity for day-to-day execution.

    Check whether it protects attention

    Protecting attention is the real service a productivity app can provide. Apps that help me protect attention do one of two things well:

  • Minimise surface area of the tool (fast capture, minimal friction to return to work).
  • Actively block or reduce distractions (Forest, Freedom, or simple Focus modes on phones).

    • If an app is constantly sending notifications to “help you”, or it encourages frequent micro-interactions, it’s likely competing with your attention rather than protecting it. For attention protection, I prefer apps that are deliberately boring or hidden during focus time. Forest is a favourite low-friction win: plant a tree, leave the phone alone, and get a tiny dopamine-free reward for not opening Instagram.

    Compare the cost to your calendar and wallet

    Cost isn’t just money. It’s also calendar space and mental overhead. Ask:

    Cost type What to look for
    Money Is the subscription justified by measurable gains? Can you achieve the same with a cheaper or free alternative?
    Time How much setup and maintenance does it require each week?
    Mental load Does it introduce new decisions or stress about using it “correctly”?

    If the financial or time costs outweigh benefits, the app is stealing more than it gives.

    Red flags that an app is stealing time

    From my experiments and frequent small failures, these are reliable red flags:

  • Endless customisation that never stabilises.
  • Notifications framed as “insights” that are just nudges to re-open the app.
  • Habit loops that reward checking rather than doing (likes, streaks, badges that don’t map to meaningful outcomes).
  • Integration bloat — every new integration adds a new place to check or fix.

    • Small, practical experiments you can run today

    Try these quick tests to see where your app stands:

  • Disable all notifications for one week. If your productivity collapses, the app may have been mostly a notification machine.
  • Uninstall for seven days. If nothing changes, it wasn’t helping; if you feel liberated, it was probably stealing attention.
  • Replace it with a one-page paper cheat sheet for a week. Low-tech often reveals whether the app added value or complexity.

    • These experiments are judgement-free. I’ve kept and discarded tools after each test — both times with relief.

    When to keep an app

    I keep an app when the evidence is clear: my completion rate improves, my deep work blocks increase, and I spend less time deciding where to put things. Examples: Todoist for recurring personal tasks (I love its karmic simplicity), Notion for collaborative project docs (with strict minimal pages), and RescueTime for an honest mirror of my habits.

    Conversely, I delete tools when they create more rituals than results. The act of letting go has become part of my practice: less clutter, more time for actual work and curiosity.

    If you want, tell me which app you’re on the fence about and I’ll help run a quick experiment tailored to your workflow.