Non-professional-writer friends who ask me to read behind them tend to be surprised -- perhaps even disappointed -- by my minimalist response to their prose. This is when I wind up explaining what I consider to be a simple truth: Good writing is clear, effective writing. If you've clearly communicated what you're trying to say, and you've done so in a way that's appropriate to your medium and audience, then you've done your job.
This is not to confuse good writing with great writing, but I would argue that great writing isn't a valuable goal for most projects. Cormac McCarthy is a great writer, but if the job at hand was explaining a group workflow in a new software platform, Cormac's MFA English would flat piss me off.
So while good writing isn't exactly common, neither is it all that rare. Good thinking is the commodity we lack, and clearly communicated but fundamentally shallow thoughts aren't improved by tweaking a preposition here and there. This is a problem for many classically trained wordsmiths (of which there is a sudden glut), because they're basically selling the proposition that a professional writer/editor is worth the investment. That's generally true, but good writing is a lousy deodorant for weak bullshit.
Fortunately, there is a corollary at work here. Clear thinkers tend to produce relatively clear communication, regardless of their ability to write standard English, but poor thinkers can be identified rapidly by the intellectual-dwarf-on-stilts quality of their writing. A few buzz terms, a lot of jargon, big words inserted where small ones would do.
Which brings us to a special case: What happens when the goal of communication is not to illuminate, but to motivate? I come from a tradition that admires the ability to speak plainly, yet plain truth is often bad business. Writing that reveals, that explains, that communicates the core truth of a given subject can hurt stock value, undermine sales, even lead to lawsuits. Before you jump on this statement with booted feet, remember that the context here is a competitive one. Would we admire a football coach for telling a pre-game TV interviewer that his quarterback's shoulder is so sore that they've had to remove all the "out-routes" from their playbook? Of course not.
But pumping perfume over a big smelly truth only inspires skepticism, and no amount of copy editing will change that. The solution is better thinking -- focus on what you want to communicate rather than what you're trying to hide -- and a willingness to speak directly and openly about whatever your situation allows (here's a hint: If your situation is so dire that you really can't speak openly about anything, your image problem should be the least of your worries).
This, then, is the value of the voice I hope to preserve in my friends' entirely adequate prose. There are a thousand right ways to communicate a good idea, and the best one is the one that expresses your identity as well. Character is destiny, and voice is one of the ways character is revealed. For better or for worse.