The Mail Club That Doesn’t Exist

I started a mail club.

No, you can’t subscribe.
No, I’m not taking orders.
Yes, I fully designed a whole month of mail anyway.

Lately my algorithm has been feeding me mail clubs. Risograph prints. Sticker-of-the-month. Carefully wrapped little parcels tied with twine and existential longing. And I felt that familiar itch–I could do that.

But here’s what I know about myself: the second I make it official, it becomes a job. A fulfillment schedule. A spreadsheet. A “have you shipped yet?” message. And suddenly the magic is gone and I’m back in operations mode.

So I did something better.

I made a fake one.

I designed a full month of mail as if hundreds of people were waiting for it. I wrote the letter. I made the sticker sheet. I mocked up the packaging. I even imagined the person opening it on their kitchen floor.

And then I… didn’t send it to anyone.

There was something wildly freeing about that.
No pricing tier to justify.
No subscriber count to obsess over.

Just me, making a tiny world and sealing it in an envelope that may or may not ever leave my studio.

The whole point of Offline Studio is to protect this feeling. To make things before they’re monetized. To try ideas before they’re optimized. To let them exist in their larval stage without demanding they become a business.

Will I ever turn it into a real mail club? Maybe.
Will it stay a secret experiment I do for myself every few months? Also maybe.

For now, I like that it’s imaginary.

It reminded me that not every idea has to graduate into a product. Some ideas are just workouts. Some are sketches. Some are love letters to your own creative brain.

This was one of those.