What Constitutes Strong Writing?

You're leaving brilliant questions in the comments--so, though some of them are harder to quantify (like this one), they are all completely worthy of thought and answer.

The most accurate but least helpful answer is that "strong writing" is completely subjective. There have been numerous occasions when I've loved something and had others think I'm crazy. Did anyone read The Secret Life of Bees? (Umm, duh, you're thinking, thousands of people read that.) I loved it. I loved the imagery. I thought it was the most gorgeous thing ever. I told a writer friend, whose opinion I respect greatly--in fact, she'd probably be better at my job than I am--to go out and get a copy posthaste. She did. She hated it. She didn't understand why I liked it, or why I told her to drop everything and get it. End result: I felt foolish.

As we've mentioned before, even with published works, even with bestsellers, everyone has personal tastes. Unfortunately, this often means that one agent or editor will love something, take it to ed board (weekly meeting in which all works under consideration are discussed) and get totally shot down. I've seen it happen--when I was interning, there would be an editor with an idea he or she was totally excited about--proposals had been circulated--and they were met with the professional, polite equivalent of, "Not sure what you were thinking but, um, no." Around a conference table. With an entire company glaring. Not a situation I'd wish on anybody.

It's happened to me, too. Everyone in my office is very kind, and there are (unlike in other offices) no worries of, say, yelling, rubber band flinging, teasing, or unkind feelings. (Or, for that matter, staplers in jell-o.)

But it's still not a great feeling to have a work you're passionate about shot down. (Not to get too sappy, but sometimes--if you really connect with the work--it feels like a personal disappointment as well.) It's happened to be before--I literally got shivers when I read a work, told the author all of the wonderful things about the project (of course trying to maintain the balance of not getting their hopes up while expressing my enthusiasm so that I'm at the top of their list if they're choosing among agents), made the others in the office read it, and--especially if I plunked them down with the manuscript and tea and had them throw aside everything else to take a look--it's extraordinarily awkward when I'm the only one who likes something. It's even happened that I've thought the writing in a piece beautiful, and because of this, loved a work--and the others didn't like it--because of the writing. The same has happened with characters (I thought them wonderfully three-dimensional--the others, uh, didn't) and interest (I was captivated; they were bored).

Long story short, this happens to everyone, in all offices. The fact that we agree probably 85 to 95 percent of the time is, in some ways, miraculous. But even if within not only the industry but the same office there are differing opinions on these hard-to-nail-down concepts--well, you can see why my original answer, it's just subjective, really is--for all its frustrating implications--the most accurate, least helpful, most true-to-life answer.