Masterclass: The Verdict

SUN, JAN 03, 2021 - 11:28


I promised in an earlier post (see ' Masterclass ') that I’d follow up my experience with Masterclass, so here we go.

I’m always trying to improve my writing — whether it be through finding tips from pros, reading books, or coercing friends into giving feedback — but last October I took the plunge and dropped €200 on a subscription to Masterclass , the web-based learning service where one can take classes taught by prominent names in various industries.

In my last post, I related how I’d found the course by Margaret Atwood enjoyable but not that helpful. I’d also done David Baldacci ’s course and found his far more structured, with better delivery and a more technical approach. So my views were a bit muddled. Since then, however, I’ve done every writing course they have, and I think I can help other writers curious about taking the plunge to make up their minds — because I’ve made up mine.

The verdict is basically this: At first, I honestly felt that the offerings on Masterclass weren’t worth the price. The courses seemed very hit and miss, they are all relatively short, and the homework is kind of ‘meh’.

Some of these opinions haven’t changed. But I can elaborate, and there are two upshots…

Firstly, yes, the courses are hit and miss. Some might be strangely structured and felt like the instructor simply sat down and babbled for a couple of hours, after which these rantings were cut and ‘ordered’ to try and make a coherent series of units. R.L. Stine ’s course made me never want to write again, it made writing seem that inconsequential and pointless, and David Mamet 's felt like he’d been coerced into giving a scathing, almost sarcastic review of the industry rather than a helpful guide to writing for stage, (also, the amount of time he spent sketching on a whiteboard while trying to explain the simple point: “You need complications in your plot,” was borderline ridiculous).

Others — notably those from Dan Brown , Joyce Carol Oates , Malcolm Gladwell , James Patterson and Aaron Sorkin — were the opposite. I could tell that a great deal of planning went into them, and their content and delivery were excellent. These courses made me feel I was actually learning, and their words still stick with me when I sit down to write.

For these courses alone, I think the price was worth it.

Then there’s the problem of the courses being short. At around 2.5 - 3 hours each, it’s true that all these instructors have their work cut out for them to compress a lot of knowledge into a short sitting and I do understand the challenge. But honestly, it all feels too compressed. They really just manage to squeeze in the basics, the surface-level tips, anecdotes and advice as each unit zips rapidly by, then BAM!, you're done. This is great for people with short attention spans, and it is nice to have things be concise but my hope is that in the future, Masterclass will add a ‘season 2’ to a lot of these courses. That would allow a deeper-dive and really allow these pros to give proper instruction.

That said, I have already noticed that a few new courses have popped up since I began my subscription and this is fantastic. So even if there is no ‘season 2’ for many of these courses, it means that new content from new artists and industry professionals will continue to come.

I have to admit: I’ve been content with my subscription. €200 is steep, but I personally feel I’ve gained enough interesting insights to justify it, not just on the writing process, but on the writing industry, the ins- and outs of publishing and even how to manage the promotional side of being a writer. Another way to look at it: I imagine that paying for a web-seminar from a bunch of pros during COVID would be much the same experience.

Bottom line: If you’ve been writing for years or you’re already published, you probably won’t glean much from Masterclass. But for the beginner or aspiring writer, this service provides both advice, encouragement and some valuable ‘aha!’s which might otherwise take a lot of time, trial and error to attain.

I hope this review has been helpful.

Jim



Masterclass

MON, OCT 19, 2020 - 17:04


Last week, I did something I don't usually do. I actually let an online ad get me interested in something.

Now, YouTube had been hounding me for over a month with this crap, but for the first time (I think ever ), I actually liked what I was seeing. So, I went and checked out this ' Masterclass ' thing. Website looked good. Courses looked interesting. 'Aight,' I thought, and dropped €200.

For those of you who don't know; Masterclass is a streaming-video service which provides 'classes' taught by celebrities and big names in various industries. And for that price, you get a one-year subscription and can 'learn' everything from talking like an astro-physicist to playing the ukulele. At least that's the idea.

My first impressions? Neat, I suppose. It's neat to have a little look behind the curtain at how professionals work and it's neat to hear what they have to share. In a week, I've done two of the writing courses. One by Margaret Atwood , and another from David Baldacci . And while I enjoyed them both, their approaches were very different and I do have some comments.

Firstly, all these 'courses' are short. Too short. Each seems to run to about 2.5 hours and if you're an audiobook or fantasy book buff like I am, that feels like a prologue. Then there was the structure of each. In Atwood's course, she tended to speak much more candidly and give advice from the heart, and that was nice. But unfortunately, for me it also wasn't that helpful. Being the first course I watched and really liking Atwood's work, I was quite disappointed. David Baldacci's course, on the other hand, seemed far better planned out, and I found it far more in-depth, structured, and helpful.

I think the main problem with all these courses, however, is that they just aren't (as the name suggests) 'Masterclasses'. I feel they're more like 'primers'; short talks given by pros, and I was a bit peeved that I already knew almost all of what I heard. Having written for a few years, you'll discover most of these things intuitively. Or learn from others. Or read articles and books.

Now, not to say it wasn't helpful at all. Sure, I picked up the odd, new tidbit, but I feel Masterclass is actually aimed at beginners to the industry/craft. It's also possible that in the future, some of these pros will come back and do a 'part two', and if that happens, this might end up being worth the money. But right now, I'd say hold onto that purse-string! I'll keep going and report back, again.

Ciao!



Update on Torril City

WED, OCT 07, 2020 - 9:01am


Not that it matters, but it was satisfying to see that I'd cracked 60,000 words in my first draft of Torril City, yesterday. For those of you who like page-counts, Pages also says that 100 pages. Huh.

Honestly, I've always been confused at why 'page-count' is a thing, though. I mean, it's the one aspect of a book that's completely meaningless, seeing as every single book has a different combination of typography, page-size and layout... One might as well ask, "what's the spine-width of your book?" But I suppose page-count sounds nice.

Anyway, that's where we're at. I am absolutely loving writing this draft and compared to Siltari, it's been a breath of crushed gelsi-root — but I have another post about the process coming, so I'll end this one here.

Peace!



All blocked up

SAT, OCT 03, 2020 - 8:22am


Maybe I'm just lucky, but I've never really had a problem with writer's block.

Whoa, whoa! Hold on, there, before you grab that pitchfork — that's not to say I don't get stuck while decision-making or finding resolutions. Sure I do. But that dastardly spectre people call "writer's block", where one sits in one's chair for hours, weeks, months, then pulls one's hair out because that perfect solution simply cannot be found? Thankfully, not yet.

At this point, I'm actually starting to think it's a myth designed to scare off novice writers, because what people describe as "writer's block" seems to me an exaggeration of a natural facet of the writing process: problem solving.

Every writer shoots around the core of a scene only to miss the mark, now and then. Every one of us has become stuck trying to resolve a scene or character arc in a satisfying way. The problem isn't that we can't find a solution, but perhaps that we're not handling that problem with the right mindset.

That said, there are occasions when frustration sets in, as I think a recent tweet of mine demonstrated nicely:


It happens!

But one way I tackle 'stuck' situations is pretty common, I think; I attack it with as many alternative ideas as possible. So, say we need a scene were the murderer needs to vanish from a crime scene quickly. Well, he could climb out the window. Shimmey up the chimney. Squeeze behind a bookshelf. Crawl under armchair. Find trapdoor under rug or crawl into ventilation system. Etcetera.

Most of these will be pure pfaddle and a bunch of freshly picked cliché. But now at least there's some turned soil to grow some fun ideas from.

So, what if it's a windy day, and the criminal cracks the window behind the curtains to make the fabric ripple. He hides behind the door until the protagonist enters, then slips out behind him, undetected? Some misdirection is always nice.

And even if I settle for an idea that isn't some-new-kind-of-genius, the way the scene is written can always make that mundane solution entertaining.

So, if you get stuck, have faith that you'll solve it and don't self-diagnose your problem with the fabled block too quickly. It only makes for unnecessary frustration.

Writing is problem solving, and you will figure it out. Best of luck!



So, What have we learned?

WED, SEP 30, 2020 - 7:32pm


Learning is odd. I feel it’s one of the only facets of the human experience which continuously gets more rewarding, for there is no law of diminishing returns, there. The more you learn, the more you wish to know. On it goes.

And after more than a decade of plotsing, screwing-up, re-writing, and learning, what a feeling it was to finally press ‘Save’ and leave my first manuscript behind for a new adventure.

The Binding of Siltari was a journey that was both long and frustrating for me, but absolutely thrilling and satisfying, as well. I can’t explain exactly what I learned along the path to 170,000 words. It’s one of those unquantifiable things. But what I can say with confidence, is that my writing is unrecognisable from what it was when I started in 2008. And not just my writing. I feel I’m a completely different person, too.

One of the most important things I learned, however, is the art of planning.

I no longer dive in to writing with just a vague idea in mind. I no longer throw characters in without knowing who they are. I no longer write scenes by following a feeling. (I’m also no longer able to read a book, or watch a film, without constantly trying to pick apart the mechanics of it. But that’s a post for another day...).

Another concept which taught me a lot was that of restriction. Siltari was an incredibly difficult story to write because I limited myself in so many ways with the setting and idea. It’s a very introspective story of a character in (what could have been) a very claustrophobic environment. But this forced me to really do a deep think about how to make it interesting and keep it moving; to explore every possible avenue and turn what is (for the protagonist) a horrible, unpleasant situation engaging and enjoyable for the reader.

I'll let my readers tell me if I had success, there. But now that I’ve embarked on my second novel, The Torril City Mysterion, all these things are paying off in a great big way. What I learned in Siltari has allowed me to plan a story which is so much smoother to write, and I can’t wait to share the progress with you all.

@James_McLeod_


Wondering where the old site went? Ah! Here it is.

© 2020 JAMES McLEOD