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I built a system that reads my AI newsletters every morning and turns them into a searchable catalog of AI tools, plus a chat website where I can ask questions about the catalog in plain English. The system has two parts: a workflow that collects the information and a website that answers questions about it. I subscribe to several AI newsletters, and each issue mentions five or ten interesting tools. I would read about one and think, “I should remember that.” Months later, I would vaguely remember it but have no quick way to find it. I wanted a repository of these AI tools that I could search easily. The collector is a scheduled Claude Code Routine that runs once a day. It searches Gmail for newsletters from the last 24 hours and reads each email in full. It extracts every AI tool’s name, description, category, official link if present, and source newsletter. It skips non-AI items and pure ads but keeps sponsors that are genuine tools. Before adding anything, it checks for duplicates. New tools are added under the appropriate category in alphabetical order. If an existing tool has fresh details, its description and “last updated” date are refreshed. Tools mentioned by three or more sources receive a “Highly Mentioned” tag, which is a useful signal for what is catching on. The workflow also creates categories when new tools do not fit into an existing one. The workflow commits and pushes the catalog to a private GitHub repository, then posts a summary to Slack. The catalog is a single Markdown file—plain text, human-readable, and versioned in Git, with no database. The chat website displays the tool count, category count, and last-updated date, along with clickable example questions. If I ask, “Is there anything for voice AI?” it returns a written answer listing every match with descriptions and working links. The site is a React single-page app on Netlify with two small backend functions: one returns the statistics, and the other handles chat. When I ask a question, the backend fetches the Markdown file from the private repository, sends it to Claude along with my question, and returns the answer. To recreate it, you’ll need a GitHub account, Netlify (the free tier is fine), an Anthropic API key, and Claude Code. The routine prompt is the most important part. It names the exact newsletters, lists the fields to extract, and explicitly says: never invent a URL, never delete an entry, and only add or update. Vague instructions produce files that degrade over time. I learned a few things the hard way. Newsletters deleted before the workflow runs may cause it to report “nothing new,” so the logic should also check Trash or Deleted items. Tokens expire, and mine quietly expired, which caused the search site to stop working. Choose a long expiration period and record the date. Also, explicitly say “never invent a URL,” or the workflow may produce plausible links that go nowhere. It now runs every morning without me. When I need something, I ask a question and get an answer in seconds instead of trying to remember which newsletter, and which month, mentioned the tool I’m thinking of. Step-by-step: 1. I created a private GitHub repository with a starter Markdown file containing “Last updated” and “Total tools” fields, category headings, and consistent fields for each tool. 2. I wrote a Claude Code Routine prompt that names the newsletters, specifies the fields to extract, and instructs the workflow never to invent a URL, never to delete an entry, and only to add or update tools. 3. I scheduled the routine to run daily with Gmail access. 4. Each day, the routine searches Gmail for newsletters from the previous 24 hours, reads them, extracts AI tools, skips non-AI items and pure ads, preserves genuine tool sponsors, and checks Trash or Deleted items when necessary. 5. The routine checks for duplicates, adds new tools alphabetically under the right category, updates existing tools with fresh details, creates categories when needed, and applies the “Highly Mentioned” tag to tools found in at least three sources. 6. The routine commits and pushes the Markdown catalog to the private GitHub repository and posts a summary to Slack. 7. I built the frontend with Vite and React, including a statistics header, a scrollable message list, an input box, and example questions. 8. I added two backend functions: one for statistics and one for chat, with the GitHub fetch handled by a shared helper with a short cache. 9. I created a fine-grained, read-only GitHub token limited to the single repository. 10. I deployed the site to Netlify with the required keys stored as environment variables rather than in the code. 11. When I ask a question, the backend fetches the Markdown catalog, sends it to Claude with my question, and returns the matching tools, descriptions, and links.

I am a Mohs surgeon who built and shipped an iOS app without formal software engineering training. The surprising part was not only getting AI to write the code; it was getting AI to remember what it had already done. I built ErgoSherpa because up to 90% of surgeons in my field report musculoskeletal symptoms, while our training fails to address them. I wanted to help surgeons improve their health easily between cases. It is free on the Apple App Store and at ergosherpa.com. The bottleneck was maintaining coherence over time. Many sessions seemed to start from zero: I would re-explain the architecture, then watch a fix quietly undo something I had solved earlier. Three habits fixed that. First, I created persistent project documentation: a `MEMORY.md` index file plus separate topic files for architecture and business decisions. I update them at the end of every session so a new session can read the files first and pick up where the last one stopped. Second, I stopped handing one model the whole job. I use three models and match them to the task. Claude Fable audits only. I open a separate session, point it at the codebase, and require a prioritized checklist with the file path, the problem, and the fix in one sentence—without writing code. A model that did not write the code and has no memory of the project reviews it more honestly than the session that built it. I paste that checklist into a Claude Opus session, which handles the codebase repairs. Claude Sonnet handles routine work such as content updates, image processing, and scheduled maintenance, often from handoffs written by Opus or Fable. Nothing gets implemented on the auditor’s word alone: I have Opus flag any decision that needs human input. This workflow caught a deep-link handler that accepted authentication tokens from any URL and a database policy missing its write-side check. Third, I verify against production, not just the code. Some of the most frustrating parts of the project involved fixes that were correct in the file but wrong on the user’s screen because of a cached asset, a stale database row, or an iOS process that needed a force-quit. I no longer consider anything fixed until I have checked the live app. Step-by-step: 1. I keep a project memory directory with a `MEMORY.md` index and separate topic files for architecture and business decisions, updating them at the end of every session. 2. I open a separate Claude Code session running Claude Fable and prompt it to audit the codebase and return only a prioritized checklist: file path, line number, the problem in one sentence, the fix in one sentence, with no code or commentary. 3. I keep the auditor in its own session with no project history so it reviews the code independently instead of defending work it wrote. 4. I paste the checklist verbatim into a Claude Opus session and have it work from the top down, reading each file and making each change. 5. I tell Opus to flag anything it believes is a false positive instead of implementing it, keeping a human in the loop on key findings. 6. I use Claude Sonnet for routine work such as content updates, image processing, and scheduled maintenance, often from handoffs written by Opus or Fable. 7. I verify every change against the live production site rather than the local files because cached assets and stale database rows can make correct code behave incorrectly for users. 8. I append confirmed lessons and architectural decisions to the project memory so the next session starts from the project’s current state.

I never ask AI to “build the app.” I move the work through a fixed assembly line, and the most valuable stations are the ones whose only job is to attack what came out of the previous station. I’m a solo developer, and this is how I build and ship software for paying clients without a team to catch my mistakes. I choose the next chunk of work—a “phase”—and run one command. Each phase gets its own fresh context window, which matters more than any single agent because a long-running session gradually forgets its own rules. Step-by-step: 1. I discuss the phase with an agent that interrogates me until every gray area is decided. The decisions go into a file instead of staying in chat, where they can get lost. 2. A planner writes an executable plan covering the tasks, files to be changed, a threat model, and the acceptance checks that will prove the work succeeded. 3. A different agent, working from a fresh context, checks the plan by working backward from the goal and trying to prove that the plan will not achieve it. This agent can block the phase, and regularly does. 4. I execute the plan task by task, making one atomic commit for each task so the changes can be reverted cleanly. 5. I send the diff to a different model than the one that wrote it. I run Codex and CodeRabbit alongside Claude. This is the highest-value station in the line: my own tests verify only what I thought to check, while an independent model can catch the class of problem I did not anticipate. 6. An agent verifies whether the phase goal was achieved by re-deriving it from the actual code. “All tasks completed” and “the thing works” are different claims. Treating them as the same is how you ship a green checklist on top of a broken feature. 7. Before anything reaches a client, I run a security and handoff audit in a real browser against a throwaway clone of the production database. I check every page, every button, and every empty and error state. The part that compounds is what happens when a bug reaches me anyway—whether I find it in production or, worse, a client reports it. I log it as an escape, then walk the chain backward and ask each gate why it missed the problem: the planner, plan checker, executor, both reviewers, verifier, security check, and handoff audit. A one-off escape becomes a written rule. A repeat becomes a change to the gate itself. I have 42 logged escapes. That file is the most valuable thing I own because every entry represents a hole that is now closed. The pipeline I run today is mostly shaped by bugs that got past the pipeline I ran a year ago. The results so far: 29 projects, 17,657 commits, and 574 phase folders. I’ve completed six client engagements, with apps live in production and handed off to their owners, as well as mobile apps built and pushed through App Store review—all as one person, with no team. There are real costs and failure modes. A phase with every gate enabled costs meaningfully more tokens than simply asking a model for the code. That is worth it on client work, where a bug can cost me a relationship, but it is overkill for a throwaway script, so I turn the gates off for those. Gates can also be confidently wrong. My most expensive recurring failure is a check that passes on a signal adjacent to the thing it claims to verify—a green light that means nothing. My rule now is that I do not trust a new check until I have watched it fail against known-bad input. A green result you have never seen turn red is not evidence. A green test suite is not the same as a working feature. Nearly every bug that escaped me was covered by a passing test whose mock had quietly pre-satisfied the exact condition under test. Testing the real boundary is the only thing that catches those failures. This process is not hands-off. I deliberately run one phase per session, and I read what comes back. Anyone selling a fully autonomous overnight build is selling a merge conflict plus a confident summary of work that did not happen. If you want to take one idea from this, it is not the framework. The agent that writes the work must never be the one that approves it. Keep a running log of everything that gets through anyway, then fix the checkpoint that let it through instead of only fixing the bug.

Getting answers from company data usually requires someone who knows SQL, understands the database, and has enough business context to interpret the results. This creates a bottleneck: business users depend on analysts for questions they should be able to explore themselves. I turned Claude Code into a self-service data analyst by giving it direct, read-only database access and configuring its behavior through a `CLAUDE.md` file. The file gives Claude business context, explains which analytical tables contain different types of information, tells it how to investigate questions, and defines how results should be presented. Users can then ask business questions in plain English. Claude determines what data it needs, queries the database, investigates the results, creates visualizations, and explains what it found. Step-by-step: 1. Create a dedicated analysis folder and add a `CLAUDE.md` file that defines how Claude should operate as a data analyst. 2. Give Claude enough business context to understand the company, its terminology, important metrics, and how the business operates. 3. Document which analytical tables or views it should use for different types of questions. Curated analytics tables work particularly well because Claude doesn't need to decipher the entire production database. 4. Give users read-only database permissions and explicitly instruct Claude to perform read-only operations, such as `SELECT` queries only. Never give the agent permission to modify production data. 5. Tell Claude how to use the command line to query the database. Include instructions to help users install or configure it if it isn't available. 6. Define an analytical process for Claude to follow. Rather than simply generating one SQL query, instruct it to investigate the user's question, examine the results, and run additional queries when necessary to understand what is happening. 7. Define the expected output: answer the question, explain the important insights, and create appropriate visualizations to make the findings easy to understand. 8. Open the folder in the Code tab inside the Claude Desktop app, which I find to be the best interface, and ask questions naturally, such as, "Why did revenue decline last month?" Claude handles the investigation from there. Instead of building and maintaining a custom analytics application, you can turn a general-purpose AI coding agent into a capable self-service analyst with access to your existing data warehouse. Users ask questions in plain English while Claude handles the SQL, investigation, visualization, and explanation, giving nontechnical users a more direct way to explore company data.

I built AllegraMente, a complete, free iOS cognitive training app, solo with Claude Code. It includes 11 exercise areas, 83 articles in five languages, and no tracking. My workflow starts with a new feature or content idea, a new exercise type, or an in-depth article about how memory works. Planning and execution stay separate, and the instruction document serves as the contract. Because everything is specified upfront, Claude Code almost never goes off track. Step-by-step: 1. I plan the feature with Claude in chat, define the data models and UX, and fact-check every scientific claim against primary sources before writing anything. 2. I package the result into one self-contained Markdown instruction document containing file paths, specifications, localization keys for all five languages (IT/EN/ES/FR/DE), edge cases, and acceptance criteria. 3. I create a Git restore point. 4. I give the document to Claude Code, which implements the feature end to end using SwiftUI, SwiftData, and MVVM. 5. A small script sends me a Telegram notification when the task is complete. I review the diff and test the app on a device. 6. I ship by creating an archive with `xcodebuild` and uploading it to the App Store with Transporter. This process is how I shipped 11 exercise areas, 83 articles in five languages, and a complete editorial system as a solo developer.

I built an episode with the wrong voice. It was not a bad take; it was the voice of a different project entirely—a narrator I had cloned for another series months earlier. Nothing in my files identified which voice belonged to which show, so the assistant picked the one it had seen most recently. I did not catch the mistake until the mix. That is what working with agents on anything long actually costs you: not bad output, but amnesia. Every session starts cold, so settled decisions get reopened, undocumented rules get broken, and the same argument returns every week wearing a different hat. I run several short-form historical and science-fiction series at once, and they all survive on one file each. It is not documentation or a spec. It is what film crews have used for a century: a series bible combined with a daily production report, pointed at an agent instead of a hundred people. I use one Markdown file, read at the start of every session and updated when the session closes rather than when it opens. Four sections do the work: Step-by-step: 1. Closed canon: Each decision includes its reason. Mine says the opening shot is never a contemplative establishing shot. It opens mid-action, with the text hook on screen by the first second, and the beautiful wide shot comes second as the breather. I write the reason next to the decision because the plan for the current episode came back with that wide shot opening the sequence, and I had to reorder it again. The decision alone stops nothing; the reason keeps the rejected version from returning. 2. Rejected list: I record what was already tried and exactly why it was dropped. The wrong voice lives here now as one line: never reuse assets across projects without confirming. This is half the value of the document, and it is the half almost nobody writes. 3. State table: I track each item, its known defects, and the decision already made about it. Mine currently reads: lips at 62.5 to 63.5 seconds, native voice at 64.1 to 65.6, voice moved forward and the original position ducked. A defect written down with its fix is an instruction. A defect nobody records is work you pay for twice. 4. Next three actions: I list concrete next steps, each naming the file it touches. Never “keep going.” Step-by-step: 1. Create `HANDOFF.md` at the root of the project before any real work starts. 2. Write the goal, deadline, and delivery constraints. Anything external that forces your hand goes here instead of staying in your head. 3. Add every consequential decision to the canon, along with its reason and what broke with the alternative. 4. Whenever something is tried and rejected, add a row to the rejected table. It takes fifteen seconds and can save an afternoon. 5. Maintain a state table of the real items, including their defects and agreed fixes. 6. Close every session by updating only three things: the state, the new rejections, and the next three actions. 7. Open every session with: “Read `HANDOFF.md` in full before proposing anything. The canon and rejected list are not up for discussion. Verify the real state against the files, then tell me where we are in two lines.” The discipline that makes this work is updating the file when you close a session, not when you open one. At the end of a session, you still remember why you made the decisions. The next morning, you do not—and neither does the agent. The template is at the bottom. It costs nothing and it is a text file.