As part of the Writer Application process, all new writers are required to submit a sample log written as the character they intend to portray. This does not have to be an overly long or involved log, but it does need to be of sufficient length to allow the bio review group to evaluate the prospective writer both on the quality of their writing as well as their English skills (spelling, grammar, syntax, etc.).
There are four possible categories for the writing sample (On the Job, Action, Spare Time, Critical Personal Moment), and the prospective writer has to choose one. (However, if you get inspired and want to submit samples for more than one category, we certainly won't complain.) Shown below are representative writing samples for each of the four categories. Writing samples do not have to be as long as the ones shown below; these are merely representations of the typical log length/quality you will see on this sim.
On the Job
Ensign Alexandra Lee
The deck of Main Engineering shook hard as Alex steadied herself against the railing on the upper section balcony. Sliding across the deck, her tool kit went over the side, crashing onto the main deck and narrowly missing a crewman in the process.
"We've got massive damage on Shuttlebay 2! Hull breaches on Decks 12, 13, and 14! Emergency forcefields are activated! Lee, take Damage Control Teams to that section now!" called an officer at the 'Pool table' "Looks like you'll only be able to take the turbolift up to Deck 16!.
"Aye sir!" she called, pushing herself off the balcony. "Damage Control Teams Alpha and Beta with me!" Grabbing an engineering belt from the nearby storage locker, she slapped it around her waist and literally slid down the ladder to the main deck. "Lets go!" Several crewmen were finishing grabbing their gear and rushed off down the main corridor behind Lee. Alex slapped the panel on the turbolift doors, which opened a moment as the rest of the two Damage control teams squeezed into the small space of the turbolift.
"Deck 16," she said, pressed against the side of the turbolift, which began its journey with a humm. A moment later the doors opened and the team rushed out. "We'll have to take the jeffries tubes to Deck 14 and work our way up! You know the drill! Worry only about the critical systems first!" Alex was the first into the jeffries tube as she immediately began to climb the nearby ladder upwards and soon came to Deck 14. Alex pressed the panel to open the access hatch with no response. She immediately pulled off a nearby panel pulled the manual lever, causing the hatch doors to slide open with a slight groan of the metal being opened. Upon stepping out, the corridor was a nightmare with lights flickering on and off. The smell of smoke mixed with burnt flesh hung in the air.
Alex froze in her tracks as a screaming man, unidentified except for the charred remains of his uniform rushed at her. It appeared that the man had suffed third degree burns over nearly his entire body. "Help me! Help me, please!" the burned man grabbed Alex's uniform tightly and in the process soaked it with blood from his own skinless hand as he immediately fell lifeless against Alex, knocking her down in the process. She was frozen in horror as she looked at her bllod soaked hands and then down at her uniform, which most of the front was also covered in the man's blood in that moment as screams filled her mind and she was transported back to San Francisco after the Breen Attack. She could again see the burnt and dismembered bodies littered about the street. Children simply sitting on the ground, sobbing heavily. "Why?!" she heard a nearby woman scream, "WHY!?!"
"Ensign Lee, are you alright? Ensign Lee!" called a senior chief petty officer.
Alex blinked a few times as the voice of the Senior Chief pierced through her flashback. "Ma'am, are you alright?" the chief reinterated.
"Wh--What? Yes, I'm fine," she scurried away from the now lifeless body on the deck in front of her as she felt a tight twisting in her stomach and immediately placed her hand against a nearby charred bulkhead and leaned over as her stomach retaliated against the sights and smells on the deck by ejecting its contents onto the deck through Alex's mouth.
"You sure, you're ok, ma'am?" the senior chief asked again.
"I said, I'm fine chief," Alex replied as she wiped the tears from her eyes onto her sleeve. She then removed her uniform jacket and unzipped the collar of the undershirt. In doing so, it seemed to make it easier for her to breathe.
"I'm detecting above normal radiation levels on this deck. We need to get inoculated by medical staff soon," a nearby crewman reported, studying a tricorder.
=/\=Ensign Lee to Sickbay, we need a medical team on Deck 14 for radiation inoculation.=/\=
=/\=We're on our way, ensign. Sickbay, out,=/\= a female voice replied.
"Alright, lets keep moving until medical arrives," Alex ordered as she took lead down the corridor.
Lieutenant Nathan Everett
Officers' Lounge, Deep Space Five
Nathan wasn't really sure why he kept coming here.
Sure, the drinks were good, and the view of the stars outside was spectacular, but Nathan was used to being with friends at a place like this. He didn't know anyone on DS5, and while he wasn't one of those quiet, dull introverts at all, it wasn't as much fun drinking with strangers.
He took another sip of his kanar and spun about in his seat at the bar, looking out at the small crowd. When he recognized the woman sitting by herself at a table near the viewport, he nearly fell out of his chair.
Fortunately for his public image, Nathan recovered, and actually managed to turn the near-fall into a rather graceful dismount from the barstool. He grabbed his drink off of the bar, looked around to make sure nobody had noticed the slip-up, and made his way over to the table.
"Arel!" he called out as he approached her table, a bright smile on his face. "Damn, it's nice to finally see a familiar face." He slid into the chair across from her without asking, leaning back and getting comfortable as he smiled at the Miranda's former security chief.
"So, how ya doin'?"
Once upon a time Arel would have nearly thrown her computer PADD (and its download of a Dickens novel) across the room in an attempt to hide that she could read but she'd changed since her "death." Now she only pushed it away with her elbow.
"I was enjoying a nice quiet drink," Arel replied although she couldn't quite bring herself to growl at him. Nathan had an infectious sort of personality - you either liked him or you wanted to smack him around a lot. Well, maybe both ...
"Eh, nice and quiet're overrated, darlin'." Cowboy grinned and took a sip of his drink. "What're you doin' out here on DS5? Starfleet kick you off the Miranda too?"
"Just about," She said, ignoring the 'darlin' bit. "I'm with the Carthage now as Jaal's XO. How about you?"
"Gonna be the XO of the Galaxy's fighter wing. If they ever get their slow ass over here, that is," Nathan answered. "Wait, Commander Jaxom's got himself a ship now? Why the hell'm Ah always the last one to know these things?"
"Because you're too busy chasing after girls or getting into trouble," Arel said. "At least that's what my sister says."
Nathan started to grin at that, but the grin disappeared pretty quickly. He looked down at his glass and picked it up, lifting it to his lips. "How is Rena, anyway? She regrettin' takin' Admiral Elaithin's offer yet?" he asked before taking a long drink of his beverage.
"I think it's taking her some time to get used to it," She replied with more care than she usually took regarding Cowboy's feelings.
He nodded. "Didn't think she'd ever leave the Rogues. It was weird seein' her in that Command uniform fer the first time." He shrugged before continuing. "Ah'm happy fer her, though. Ah think she'll do fine."
"Don't piss her off by not checking in every now and again."
"Please, Arel, Spitfire's got better things to do than worry 'bout how often Ah call," Cowboy replied with a short laugh. Suddenly he looked up at her, his eyebrows knotting together in worry. "Why? You think she'd come after me or somethin' if Ah didn't?"
"I don't know," Arel said with a laugh. "Better to keep on her good side though, don't you think?"
"Yeah, yer prob'ly right. Best not to tempt fate. 'Sides, it's prob'ly borin' as hell fer her over there now that the two of us're gone. Ah'm sure she'd appreciate the visit."
"So you have any better alcohol stashed away somewhere?" Arel said after a moment. "This synthehol crap is crap."
"You do realize who yer talkin' to, right?" Nathan answered with his trademark grin. "Ah got some of the real stuff back in mah quarters." He paused, suddenly realizing how that may have sounded. "Uh, that is, not that Ah'm expectin'--"
"Let's go," Arel said, rolling her eyes. "Oh and, by the way, you lay one hand on my ass, I'm going to dislocate your jaw. After I've broken all the bones in your body."
Cowboy laughed as he stood up. "Careful, now, threats lahk that ain't exactly stopped me before. Yer lucky yer a married woman, Arel." He looked over at her as they walked out of the lounge, quirking an eyebrow. "Wait, *are* you still--"
She glared at him.
Critical Personal Moment
“Indigo for Indigo”
by Lt. Ella Grey
Ella looked at herself in the mirror, critically inspecting the outfit that she had chosen for Indigo’s memorial, and frowned.
It seemed wrong. Indecent somehow considering its purpose. Not to mention the fact that she was dressing for Indigo’s memorial, which in itself was wrong.
The outfit looked good on her, though. It fit and Indy would have loved it but Ella still thought that the dress was ghastly inappropriate for the occasion at hand.
Maybe it was because Ella’s idea of memorials and funerals ran towards a more traditional approach to death. Sobering. Mournful. Sedate. Long black limos and evenly spaced tombstones. Mourners in black or dark navy, with white pearls hanging around the necks of the women and neck ties to match the suits for the men. Children sitting quietly, swinging their legs in absolute boredom.
At Ella's funeral there would be bouquets of calla lilies, bound by delicate pink ribbons for that extra special personal touch. Flute or cello music would play softly in the background and her farewell song would be anything but the detested “Evening.”
Her mother would sob on and on about her dearly departed baby, of course, while her father would remain like a stone throughout the entire service, although it would be obvious to all that he was absolutely devastated.
8-ball and Curtis would be there, the former wearing a long modest black dress, except for the slit in the leg because Ella had to allow for some semblance of reality in this morbid little fantasy, and the latter (having never stepped foot on the dessert planet) would feel shaken to his core at the death of his former student, former friend.
And Victor would be there as well because at her funeral, obviously, Victor would not be angry or cold or unhappy with her anymore.
Victor would cry wordlessly as Ella was lowered into the earth (now in her glass Snow White coffin which was embedded with sapphires) and then suddenly, and with great theatric expression, and to hell with reality, he would leap into the hole (still crying) to beat upon the casket until it opened so that he could bring her back to life with a kiss.
Sometimes Ella came back to life and sometimes she didn’t. It varied upon her mood.
Obviously she had had too much time to think upon the subject of her own funeral over the past few days.
Still, everyone who came to the funeral of Ella Grey would comment later on how it was such a waste, the poor girl. They would be saddened how they never really understood her but she was so obviously talented, likeable, respected, etc. They would go to her memorial telling old stories like the time she was paraded down the halls in her little pink towel or the first time she used her mechanical voice in Engineering, ah the good old days, and eat from one of the many various dishes that were brought out of sympathy if not love.
They would leave feeling that her death had been a real tragedy and on the whole an injustice had been done upon them by a cruel and uncaring universe.
Indigo had demanded a beach barbeque.
Ella gave a lopsided smile as she remembered the paper she had found, now in the possession of Indy’s parents. Some time in the last few months, probably after Bill’s death, her friend had sat down and had seriously thought about what she wanted should she unexpectedly die. Indigo had requested that her body return with her parents to Earth and that Ella not attend because, on the whole, the whole funeral process was not so much fun. Instead, Indy had requested that Ella organize the final arrangements for Indigo’s spiritual self.
This, Indigo had dictated in her scrawling penmanship made in orange and purple ink, was to be a 48-hour beach barbeque on Holodeck One, complete with Hawaiian luau, volleyball tournament, Frisbee, and wet t-shirt contest if so desired. It was to be 48 hours so that people who had to work would have equal opportunity to party and celebrate the wacky fun that had been Indigo Renkert.
The only requirement for their admittance was that all guests had to wear the color indigo somewhere on their person.
They also got a brownie at the door if they had done something daring with their hair.
To both ends, Ella had succeeded. She was wearing a royal blue bikini and a hawaiin print sarong in a shade lying in the visible spectrum between blue and violet. She had a large beach bag with everything needed for a day at the beach, frisbee, book, pail and shovel, and two bottles of illegal Romulan ale.
She’d even dyed a lock of her hair a matching shade of indigo just because she thought that Indy would have gotten a kick out of it.
She’d had a bitch of a time making it work though as, since her mother had never allowed her to dye her hair, Ella was left all alone with a box, dye, and little white gloves that did not save your hands from dye no matter what the box promised. Therefore, she’d gone through several shades before she got it just right and had had a long cry somewhere in between because Indy should have been around to show her how it was done properly.
But now here she was, dressed in indigo for Indigo, and wanting to mourn instead of playing a damn game of volleyball. But this was what Indy had wanted and if this was what Indy had wanted then Ella was damn well going to do it.
Making sure that she had a bottle opener for the Romulan ale, Ella headed off for the Holodeck.