Don’t Sleep on MasterClass (Even If You Love Cohort-based Courses)
Since April I’ve taken MasterClasses with Alicia Keys, DJ Questlove, Neil Gaiman, and Bob Woodward. I even watched a couple of lessons from Tony Hawk to see if I’d like to learn how to skateboard for snowboarding (jury’s still out on that).
MasterClasses are a good mix of inspiration and application. They don’t have the accountability of cohort-based courses but they’re not passive edutainment either. They’re the next level up for cohort-based course veterans who want battle test their learning strategies, as well as learn new fields.
Each class has about 20 cinematic video lessons that mix inspiration and application. Each lesson is about 10 minutes in length.
Every MasterClass instructor personally designs their curriculum. One of my favourite things about the classes is that each one has a beautifully designed Instructor Guide. These are filled with notes, additional resources, and even assignments, flavoured with each instructor’s personality.
With that intro aside, let’s talk about the main draw of MasterClass: the celebrity instructors. They say that those who can’t do teach. But dang, was I delighted that these MasterClass teachers are the exception.
Finishing Alicia Key’s masterclass gave me an appreciation for how much work goes into producing a song — and how much fun it is. I may not have the patience to learn how to write my own songs, but this class reminded me that making art — and anything creative for that matter — draws from a well of fun, looseness, and play.
“When you feel out of place, you’re about to make magic.”
Finishing Questlove’s DJ-ing class made me pay better attention to my Spotify playlists. I’m in better tune with my recurring emotions, with an ear to build playlists for them. While I’m not about to spin at friendsgiving, now I know how to keep the party going with an AUX cord on a long car ride.
“Music is just a snapshot, a polaroid of your life’s memories.”
Doing Neil Gaiman’s class on storytelling gave me the tools to start writing short stories. I never thought I could write fiction, but it’s been a different kind of creative release. I’m writing like a kid again. And fortunately, my stories aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. (Check out this tweet thread of Neil’s best quotes from the class.)
“You learn more from finishing a failure more than you do from writing a success.”
Finally, doing Bob Woodward’s class on investigative journalism feels like I’m taking the masters in journalism that I’ve always wanted to do but didn’t have the time for. I’m using the class as the curriculum to learn, publish, and improve my weekly longform essays (beginning next week). I’m paying better attention to attention-grabbing stories. I learned tactics like using my blog posts as reporting memos to keep me on track.
“Great stories are about power: how it’s used and abused.”
These classes aren’t passive edutainment. In Neil’s class, for example, the lessons are designed to help the student work through their first novel or short story.
Unlike a cohort-based course, there’s no accountability, no community, no timeline. It’s not as easy as showing up to live sessions, getting help in forums, or venting your frustrations in accountability groups.
You won’t get the most out of the lessons unless you carve out the time to watch the lessons and do the work. You need to be self-motivated and self-directed, to hone your own learning habits and make your creativity a priority. You’ll need to find your own way to show your work.
In Bob’s class, I’m expected to publish a 3,000 – 4,500-word piece of investigative journalism. Fortunately, because I have my essays and my newsletter, I have a way to practice every lesson he teaches.
To me, these are features, not bugs. Pure, creative work is about output and personal interest. Accountability and forcing functions are side effects of an obsession to master the craft.
This past month, I spent 10-15 hours a week writing and publishing non-fiction blog posts and another 5-10 hours reading about technology. In my downtime, I hacked away at fiction writing. I feel like I’m in doing an MFA, a masters in journalism, and a case-based MBA, all at the same time. But I never feel like I’m falling behind or running late.
For $20 a month or $180 a year, that’s a steal.
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