Why I Stopped Chasing Perfect Documentation

Three years ago, I spent an entire week writing documentation for a small React component library. Every component had detailed props tables. Every edge case was documented. I included examples, code snippets, TypeScript definitions, accessibility notes, and even performance considerations.

It was beautiful. It was thorough. It was comprehensive.

And exactly three people used the library.

The Perfect Documentation Trap

Here's what happened: while I was busy perfecting my documentation, polishing every sentence and adding every possible example, developers who might have used my library moved on. They found something else that they could get working in five minutes, even if the docs were messy.

I had fallen into the perfect documentation trap. I was so focused on making everything perfect that I forgot the actual purpose of documentation: to help someone get started quickly.

What Actually Matters

After that experience, I started paying attention to which documentation I actually found helpful as a developer. And I noticed a pattern.

The best docs weren't the longest. They weren't the most comprehensive. They were the ones that got me from zero to working code in the shortest time possible.

Think about it: when was the last time you read documentation front-to-back? Never, right? You scan for a quick start guide, copy the basic example, and start modifying it to fit your needs. Only when you get stuck do you dive into the detailed docs.

The New Approach

Now I follow what I call the "5-minute rule." If someone can't get a working example running in five minutes or less, the documentation has failed.

Here's what that looks like in practice:

Installation: One command, no prerequisites if possible. If there are prerequisites, they're clearly listed upfront.

Basic Example: A complete, copy-pasteable example that actually works. Not pseudo-code. Not a fragment. A real example that demonstrates the most common use case.

Quick Explanation: Two or three paragraphs explaining what the thing does and when you'd use it. That's it.

Everything else—API references, advanced examples, edge cases, performance tips—that can come later. Or better yet, it can come in response to actual questions people ask.

Learning from Questions

This is the secret that changed how I think about documentation: let your users tell you what to document.

When I release something now, I put out minimal docs and wait. People open issues. They ask questions on Discord or Twitter. They struggle with specific things.

And that's when I document those things. Because now I know what actually matters. I'm not guessing about what might be confusing—I'm addressing what IS confusing.

This approach has another benefit: the documentation ends up more user-focused. Instead of explaining how the code works (which is what developers naturally want to write about), I'm explaining how to solve actual problems.

When Perfect Makes Sense

I'm not saying documentation doesn't matter. For large open-source projects, for enterprise software, for anything where people are making significant investments of time or money, thorough documentation is crucial.

But there's a time and place for that level of detail. And it's not at the beginning.

Start with good enough. Ship it. See how people actually use it. Then make it better based on real feedback, not imagined use cases.

The Practical Takeaway

If you're sitting on a project because the documentation isn't perfect yet, stop. Write three things:

How to install it
The simplest possible working example
One paragraph about what it does

Then ship it. Put it out there. Share it. Let people use it.

You can always improve the docs later. But you can't improve them if nobody's using the thing in the first place.

Perfect documentation for a project nobody uses is just a waste of time. Good-enough documentation for a project people love is how things get built.

So stop polishing. Start shipping. Your 80% documentation is probably better than you think.