When it comes to studying the craft of writing, I’m a big proponent of online courses. In fact, I just finished teaching one, taking one, and participating in an online critique group. I hadn’t intended to do all three at the same time, but when the opportunity arose, I couldn’t say no. Yes, the last several weeks have been B-U-S-Y, but I don’t regret a minute of the work.
With a day job and two kids at home (both of which leave me with a tight budget on time and money), I can’t always attend the workshops or conferences I want. So, I am always on the lookout for something online that will connect me with other writers, introduce me to new instructors, and guide me through new perspectives on writing and revision.
Here’s the thing: there are a ton of online learning options for writers; it can be overwhelming to figure out which course is worth the money or what instructor might best fit your needs. And with the current trend of Massive Open Online Courses (MOOC), where enrollment is often free, it’s tempting to sign up for every one. But a free course, or one that connects you with an amazing instructor, doesn’t always translate into a great course…for you. Or I should say, for me. I’m guilty of registering for a MOOC and dropping out after day one–excellent information and top-notch teaching, but not in a format through which this writer could easily learn. Now when I consider an online course, I look for five key elements before I decide to sign up.
1. Affordability.
I admit, this is the first thing I consider. I don’t want to undervalue anyone’s work. I teach online courses, so I know the time and effort that goes into putting one together. Those courses that are hundreds (or even thousands) of dollars are worth every penny, I know. And when I can afford to sign up for one, you bet I will. But at this point in life, I rarely have large sums of money at my disposal, so I drift toward courses that run at a lower cost. This has yet to disappoint me; there are plenty of good-quality low-fee classes to choose from if you keep an eye out.
2. Use of mixed media.
As writers, we are constantly working on screen, and text-heavy online courses can sometimes feel 2-dimensional and flat. I appreciate the classes that tap into my other senses through video or images. I get a bit of a break from reading reading reading and my mind feeds on what I’m learning in a different way. Then, I can turn back to the writing or revision with fresh eyes.
3. A pairing of lesson and exercise.
I’ll sign up for a course based on what I might learn, but I’ll also look for a class that will hit me with a few deadlines. I work best under pressure and am more likely to participate if there’s an official “assignment.” This doesn’t mean I pass on courses centered only on reading about the craft, but I appreciate the course more when encouraged to apply the lesson.
4. Materials and resources I can download for later.
Being able to access the material after a completed course is critical, because I’m a slow study. I need to print things out, highlight, take notes. Get into the action. Put it aside. Return to it again. Add resources for further study to the mix, and I’m sold.
5. An opportunity to engage in community.
This aspect is a tricky one to discuss. Every online course offers a chance to engage with other writers, but the level of engagement differs and every writer’s tolerance of on-screen participation varies. I prefer courses with lower enrollment, because I am easily overwhelmed by mile-long discussion boards. But, it isn’t always possible to know if I’m signing up with 20 writers or 200. So, I weigh the information and instructor with the possibilities that I might run into complex discussion threads and determine if the course still meets my needs.
You might notice I’ve left out one important aspect…Instructors. Of course, I’d love to take classes under the best and most well-known, always, but I’ve learned to be flexible. If a course fits every other quality I’m looking for but the instructor is new to teaching or new to me, I’m still willing to give them a chance. Much of writing is application and practice. The goal for me is to find a place that opens the door for new learning. Sometimes that happens under the wings of well-seasoned faculty; sometimes it’s under the guidance of a writer who’s only a few steps ahead of me but who offers a new way to view the work.
Have you taken classes online? What’s your top reason for signing up? And if you haven’t taken any online, here are a few places and people to check out:
If you’ve got recommendations, I’d love to hear them!
In a time when so much divides us–religion, politics, and even something as simple as distance–books bring us together. We write them; we read them; we discuss them. And much can be learned from a good story, fact or fiction. One of my favorite aspects of blogging on a regular basis comes in sharing a good book with you, many times through author interviews.I am inspired by the systems all around us – water systems, forest systems, the way swamps evolve over time, all of the life that constantly changes and recharges everything that is connected. I suppose, ultimately, all the old stories about “mishomis-giizis” and “nokomis-dibiki-giizis” (the sun and the moon) are at the core of it. The fact that all of this life is happening across vast distances and inside tiny molecules reminds me of the way we put sounds and meaning together to make words that allow us to actually communicate ideas and perceptions to one another. None of this is new, but taking time to notice all the influences of the universe certainly leads me to write.
I believe in the possibility of almost anything, and I have seen it come to pass in my whole life – not just my writing life – that the strangest and most unpredictable string of circumstances leads to an outcome I can best describe as miraculous. Albert Einstein said, “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous,” and if I could bring myself to believe in a God that would be a convenient theory. But I’ve long suspected life is not so simply explained. (And I don’t suspect for a minute that Einstein did, either.) Instead, like the esteemed man, I believe in mathematical probability, and in the environment’s tendency toward patterns and order, and in the verifiable fact that highly unlikely things happen in the natural world every day. Call it magic. Call it coincidence. Call it signs or God or karma or science. Regardless, it has been my experience that if we live with our eyes wide open and our hearts in the right place, if we shoulder life’s hardships without allowing them to hollow us, and if we learn from our mistakes and follow the clues they carve for us, we often land on precisely the path upon which we need to stand.
Mentors, revision rounds, and more and more reading all develop surprises in me that are triggered by each character. All this helps me try to generate a multi-layered foundation of compassion for each of them. Human complexity has such refreshing beauty. Even our evil, though it is deplorable and it harms us so very much, can with grace become a conduit toward the most profound truths of love and humanity. We see it all over the world: The Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, the restorative justice practices in Colombia, the reconciliation ceremonies led by the Cheyenne over the Sand Creek Massacre, and the Nez Perce over the Big Hole Massacre. Love is quieter, but I believe, more powerful in the end.
