Mary Harwell Sayler began writing for Christian markets in 1972 and, in 1982, began instructing other writers. Her publishing credits include a dozen nonfiction books, a half-dozen novels, a picture book, and over 1,000 articles, poems, and children's stories. Her poetry and natural health columns appear regularly in religious and secular publications for children and adults. A frequent judge of annual poetry competitions and occasional leader of poetry-writing workshops, Mary continues to instruct children's writers and Christian poets by mail. For information about her correspondence course, Poetry Writing Sessions, and other writing helps, check her website - www.poetrywritingsessions.com.

A blank sheet of paper, a clean sheet of snow, a cleared calendar with sheets of blank squares.... These symbolize hope at the turn of a New Year, but this year we don't have to absolve a millennium or lay a century to rest. This year's resolutions can resolve our present involvement as writers or poets as we correct only what needs to be amended. The place to start, of course, is prayer—not so much to talk to God as to be as silent as snowfall, as open as an unused notebook, as equipped as a calendar quick to be filled. But how does that translate into real work at hand?

Whether you write fiction, nonfiction, or poetry, there comes a time to lay a manuscript aside, like an old year, and let it rest. You help it out by leaving it alone until a fresh view comes to you. (It will, even if it takes days or years.) Then (here's the hard part), you take what you see seriously. For instance, if you stumble in reading your work aloud, trust your ear to discern what it hears. Note that trouble spot—an inept word, a stale phrase, an idea that didn't show itself clearly—without trying to talk yourself out of what you hear, feel, or suspect to be true.

If you question something specific, such as which word or image to use, ask a trusted friend for advice, preferably one who's the type of reader you already had in mind and one who will be genuinely interested in helping you improve your work, not in putting you down. For children's poems and stories, ask a child. If you know something is "off," but aren't sure what, get someone to read the work aloud to you, and listen for those hesitancies that often signal lack of cadence or comprehension. If you honestly do not know what needs to be corrected or how to make effective changes, give the manuscript more "rest" time. Take writing classes, or get a professional critique.

Frequently, writers and poets just need to trust what they know and accept—what they see as something that needs to be changed, resolved, or amended. As you resolve to revise, come back to your "rested" manuscript empty of answers but full of questions, such as: Does this say what I intended? Do I like how it sounds? Will the people I'm writing this for readily identify? What kind of effect will this probably have on them? Has my work progressed in a straight-forward sequence of time, logic, or character development? Do transitions smooth each change of verse, paragraph, pace, mood, or scene? Are my opening lines a doorway to exploration? Do my closing lines close—not too tightly, but realistically, logically, hopefully?

Hopefully, you'll give yourself a break here because there's always more to be said—and better too. You're not, however, competing with anyone, including yourself. You're cooperating with yourself and your manuscript, reserving for it the time it deserves and bringing everything you have for its overall effectiveness. For instance, if you have a related experience, bring that. If you have a fresh thought or pertinent picture, bring that. If you have musical sounds of alliteration, rhyme, or rhythm, bring that. If you have insight or enthusiasm, bring that. If you have fresh expressions and a unique tempo or style, bring that. If you have a dictionary, thesaurus, or other means of fine-tuning words and fact-checking data, bring that.

The latter draws a line of professionalism that editors like and readers need. Many manuscripts want this too—not as in want, the feeling, but the old-fashioned meaning in Psalm 23 of "lack," as in, "The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not lack." Therefore, as you shepherd your manuscript into the fold of a book or magazine, think about this writer's resolution: "My manuscript shall not lack what I can bring to make it better." This takes time, practice, and patience with yourself, but you can do it! You can amend each manuscript as needed by remembering this clue: Re-vision starts with vision—and vision with a view.