A disclaimer to get us started: I sell a small selection of Doodle Dispatches items from my website, and this post talks about how and why. If you aren’t in the market for doodle merch, that’s just fine! Your eyeballs here will always be enough for me. 🧡
Of course, I’m always delighted when people want to order an item, so I’ve included links. For Substack readers, using the coupon code INSIDER will take 20% off of all holiday items on my site through November 30. Thank you so much for being a part of Doodle Dispatches!
When I had the urge to make my doodles more tangible, it was mainly to make some silly presents for friends and family. The mind-blowing number of merchandising options offered by all manner of websites got my mind whirring just when I needed it occupied (#lockdown). Thinking about the challenges of web design, production management, and inventory was the perfect thought experiment; it created a sense of forward momentum when everything else seemed to have ground to a halt.
First I designed a puzzle. It was a fun way to revisit a year’s worth of characters, but the production costs weren’t scalable.
Then I got overexcited and made the rookie mistake of blasting doodles across a whole range of one-off prototypes.
While it was unexpectedly satisfying to take delivery on each test item, I had a growing unease. The quality was hit or miss, and the items increasingly felt beside the point, disconnected from the doodles themselves. Totes and t-shirts felt more like an exercise in branding. While there is a place for branding, past a certain point it becomes…boring.
What medium would feel right to me? If somebody really adored a doodle, I reasoned, a high-quality print would better stand the test of time. The first proofs were absolutely beautiful, elevating my simple scrawls to an extent that I hadn’t expected.
Still. Not everyone wants a fine art print. Most people have a short romance with a particular character, and seeing it hang around for too long kills the fun.
Wrapping paper was a revelation. The characters get to be temporary stars of the show, surprising people and making them smile—but as the present is unwrapped, the doodles get crumpled up and whisked away before the joke has grown old. The drawings can’t overstay their welcome, and the product has a purpose.
The paper itself matters, though, as I discovered when I ordered a few rolls via one of the big merchandising sites. The designs looked fun in wrapping paper format, but the cost was too high for the paper lengths I got, and the paper itself was slimsy and felt cheap.
A different supplier offered a heavier, matte paper stock, with no shine or foil. (Recyclable! Toss in the wood stove or compost when done! Ephemeral to the end!) Each design came in a delightfully humongous, industrial-sized roll that I carried into the house over my shoulder like Paul Bunyan. After the first delivery, I spent several hours wrangling a workspace where I could accurately measure ten-foot lengths to cut, re-roll, and package. It was a lot of work. It was ridiculously fun! My cats were confused. And I was still part of the production process, right where I wanted to be.
It’s a thrill to see doodles marching across our Christmas presents each year, and I love to work old friends into the designs. Take, for instance, one of my favorite Thanksgiving doodles:
When I first drew him, I sort of fell in love with this turkey. He was ridiculous, but he made me believe that turkeys should be allowed to stick around for the whole holiday season. I slapped a stocking cap on him, and gave him his very own Doodle Dispatches wrapping paper.
I also have a soft spot for cows. Instead of using my more doodle-y cows, though, I leaned toward using my more cow-ish cows. These hadn’t felt quite silly enough to post as doodles:
So I gave one a Santa hat, and now she has her own wrapping paper, too.
My latest wrapping paper began as a doodle of tiny, fanged monster who hides a bunch of flowers behind his back. Last year I made him into a Christmas ornament, with a slight alteration:
Last week I trimmed him into 10-foot lengths and he’ll be a new face under the tree this year.
Displaying my micro-doodle wrapping paper here would reveal some of the surprises hidden in my advent calendar. I’ll just leave you imagining what could be lurking behind these doors…
…maybe a cow and a turkey?
I’m less inclined now to try all the merch under the sun; I’m finding pleasure in discovering something that works and exploring that as far as I can. This feels more on brand to me than “branding” everything possible with doodles. I imagine that some extremely silly experiments lie ahead, though. Friends and family should still be nervous on their next birthdays.