Crappy Writing

I'm still reeling a bit from my writing analysis which compared me to Stephanie Meyer.  I know it's just a simple Internet analysis, and I don't have any illusions about being a great writer, but still.  And it's not that she's just AWFUL...while her writing kind of annoyed me, and some of her characters REALLY annoyed me, she could tell a good story and keep me interested enough to read all four Twilight books and see the movies.  If it's a good story, I can forgive some pretty bad writing.  I've read much worse from other authors making millions.  I just don't want to annoy people.  I also don't want to populate the world with any more crappy writing.

True, Stephanie Meyer is laughing all the way to the bank, despite her critics, but I tend to be a romantic idealist.  This might be different if I were pursuing a living as a writer, but I think I'd rather be critically acclaimed and broke rather than told over and over that my writing stinks, even if I made money off that stinky writing.  This is weird, because I'm the complete opposite with artwork.  I spent my college years being told by the majority of my snooty art instructors that my artwork was "baseless", "irrelevant", "boring couch art", and on one occasion told by my Advanced Figure Drawing instructor - in front of the whole class AND the nude model no less - "Just because you can draw better than anyone in this class doesn't mean you're an artist."  I kept my grade in mind and my mouth shut, but I wanted to ask if the person who'd just had a show in the student gallery could be called an "artist" because she built two columns, glued pieces of broken mirror to them, then sprinkled dead leaves around on the floor and called it "art."  With artwork, critique from the "experts" doesn't matter a lick to me, as long as I'm satisfied with my own work and the Average Joe or Jill likes it.  Maybe it all boils down to confidence.

I was joking about not blogging anymore - I'll still blog because I enjoy it.  But please, PLEASE someone tell me if, like Stephanie Meyer, I start using too many ridiculous metaphors, create an extremely annoying character, or begin to rave about handsome sparkly vampires with piercing amber eyes and snow-white marble skin, frosty as the arctic winter breeze...