Welcoming 2025 writer-in-residence Shaun Crawford

Shaun Crawford is Mount Royal’s 2025 writer-in-residence.

A Calgarian, Shaun Crawford has written for multiple industries and genres including film, video games, augmented and virtual reality, as well as print, digital, web, social media, radio, and more. Read his full bio here.

 

 

Leading up to the event, Crawford answered a few questions.

 

What inspires you to write?

Inspiration has never been how I describe it. I can’t not write. It’s like breathing — I couldn’t stop it if I tried. And at times in my life, I have tried. But I’m inundated with ideas all the time. It’s often overwhelming. Or frustrating, because I don’t have the time or resources to realize or even explore all the ideas I get. Some of them come and go before I ever get a chance to flame the spark. And then when I revisit them, they’re gone. But there are always new ideas coming. It feels like something innate. It’s just who I am. Most of the time, that feels like a gift — but sometimes I feel haunted by it.

What inspires the ideas? Everything. Experiences, relationships, things I hear about the world — big and small. I think in Story, so everything I hear plays out as a scene in my imagination. It’s almost like it’s just the way I process information. It probably comes from constantly watching movies growing up.

 

How is writing for video games and virtual reality unique? What challenges do you face with those mediums?

One thing about writing for VR and gaming is that there’s no defined format. Screenwriting, or even prose to some extent, has a format and conventions. Conventions kind of exist within interactive mediums but nothing universal or concrete. Screenwriting format evolved as the clearest and most coherent way to express a film on the page — and ultimately serve as a tool for production.

Immersive mediums are so diverse and evolve so quickly that there doesn’t seem to be a definitive format that translates as cleanly. The biggest reason for that is interactivity and audience agency. I’ve often said that video games are the ultimate art form. They have everything film does — visual art, auditory art, performance art, etc., but they also have interactive art. So writing to represent all of those disciplines is unique to interactive media like video games and VR. Especially when it comes to representing it clearly on the page.

 

Tell me about working with National Geographic and Blackfoot Elder Saa’kokoto. How did that experience shape your writing?

There are a lot of nuances to that experience. As a non-Indigenous person working with an Elder and the Indigenous community, I don’t really write in the sense that I’m the creative. Their stories are their own and theirs to tell. I always try to approach collaborations like that with a lot of respect, caution, and just generally try to remain open. Have you ever heard the expression, you can’t fill a cup that’s already full? That’s what I mean by being open. I try not to approach collaborations like that, being too full of my own ideas — which is admittedly hard because I always have ideas and opinions. I try to listen more than talk — again, hard because I can’t shut up sometimes. And I endeavour to be more responsive than be the driving force behind anything. And, as with anything, I’ve made many mistakes in those dynamics, often outright failing. In all honesty I do like to be in the creative driver’s seat so these days I try to focus more on stories that I’m in a more relevant position to tell.

For that particular experience, National Geographic facilitated a lot of the relationship aspect. I had the opportunity to work with Blackfoot Elder Saa’kokoto before, so it was meaningful to listen to his stories and knowledge again. A photographer, Kahli April was also a key component to the experience, so I really just worked with what Saa’kokoto and Kahli created and did what was asked of me.

It’s always humbling to be invited into the sharing of other people’s stories. It makes me nervous, to be honest. I believe the most valuable thing any artist has is their own voice, but in a collaboration like that, your voice is the last thing they need. So, it’s a matter of removing your voice as much as possible so it doesn’t interfere with their voice and their story. Which is a skill that comes in handy in many creative assignments.

 

What advice would you give students about writing and the writing process?

Find your own writing process. It’s different for everybody. Research and learn as much as you can about other writers and their processes. Familiarize yourself with tools. For example (in terms of story), models like the traditional 3-act structure, the monomyth and the hero’s journey, Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat, and countless books on character, writing and story all have a ton of valuable information to inform your writing and the writing process.

Even anecdotally, accounts of other writers now and throughout history have a lot to offer. I read about Taika Waititi’s process and it’s brave and wild and absolutely terrifying to me and I could never do it — but it just reinforces that everyone’s process is different.

Try things. Learn things. Take what works and leave the rest. Then try and learn new things again. Hone your own process over the years until you dial in on something that works for you. And all the while, write, write and write some more.

 

Why is it important to take feedback and constructive criticism as a writer?

Yeah, I mean, you’ve just gotta, haha. Who you take feedback and constructive criticism from and how much value their opinion offers can be something worth thinking about. But it’s always important to get feedback outside of your own opinions. As writers, we get too close to our work. We overlook or miss things. We make assumptions. Our own inner knowledge of the work is filling in gaps that we don’t realize. Our brain corrects typos/errors as we read them. Or things just don’t come across as we intended. It’s an absolute must to get feedback and use it to make your work better.

In my opinion, who gives you feedback is tricky for this reason: some people give you feedback that comes from a place of understanding your vision, your voice, and what you’re trying to accomplish with the writing — and some people give you feedback based on what they think the writing should be and what their vision of it is. I find the latter can be quite destructive to your work, despite best intentions. And I’ve given people both kinds of feedback before. Giving feedback/critiquing is a skill in itself. Some people make a career out of it.

But if you find someone (hopefully far more than one), who understands your voice and your vision and then gives you honest, clear and constructive feedback in alignment with your writing — that is a powerful thing. Don’t be offended. Don’t be defensive. It’s a gift. Embrace it, run with it, and make your work better than ever.

On a practical note, if you’re going to make a living as a writer you will have to take and incorporate feedback. Whether you like it or not. Whether the feedback is good or not. One of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered is having to actively make my writing worse based on the feedback of someone who is paying me to do a job. It’s painful. But it’s part of making a living as a writer.

The good news is there are also a ton of people who will give you feedback that makes your writing better. Collect those people like they’re Mickey Mantle rookie cards. They’re invaluable.

 

As a creative, it’s hard to know when something is “finished.” How do you know when it is time to step back from a project and call it a day?

Actually, I have more trouble leaving something too soon. I have so many ideas and so many projects that I often don’t spend as much time as I should with a project or piece of writing. Sometimes putting work in the world is the only way to stop working on it. Make a film. Publish your work. Of course, this is an incredibly hard thing to accomplish. But I’ve found that until a piece of writing is realized in the world then it’s always fair game to keep revising and chipping away at. Often some writing just becomes too old and outdated and you don’t even connect with it anymore. There’s that old expression that no work of art is ever complete, it’s only abandoned. (I think it’s an expression, I heard George Lucas say it in an interview once). I guess that’s as true as anything.

I think the only pitfall is if a writer becomes so captured by refining the same piece over and over that they don’t move on to anything else. I’ve seen writers working on something for a decade and never “finish” and it prevents them from discovering and creating new work.

Keep rewriting — but also keep writing. Always keep writing.

About the Writer-in-Residence Program

The Writer-in-Residence Program brings authors of national and international standing to MRU to work with and mentor students. Visiting writers hold office hours and meet with student writers. They also visit classes, give public readings/multimedia presentations, and host debates and discussions with other writers. Previous writer-in-residence authors include Ivan Coyote, Yvette Nolan, Billie Rae Belcourt and Ifeoma Chinwuba.

The Department of English, Languages, and Cultures' Writer-in-Residence Program forges links between the academic and the creative communities within Calgary and across the country. This gives students direct contact with their role models and inspires them in all aspects of writing and the study of literature.

Anyone interested in having a one-on-one with the writer-in-residence can contact Dr. Natalie Meisner, PhD, in the Department of English Languages and Cultures via email at nmeisner@mtroyal.ca.