Having just started to read The Great Gatsby, I’m immediately put off by the intentionally-unpleasant social circle of the narrator, and it occurs me that they’re not really the sort of character I use – nor I think, most genre writers. The louche, casually cruel characters are far more of a literary fiction construct, one I’ve never really seen the use for outside of that sort of book.
The more I think about it, the more I observe the near-inevitable correlation between characters and friends. Sure there are major differences and characters have a life of their own, but it does lead me to the conclusion that I’ll never write a book literary types would think of as great. I don’t see the world that way, I don’t see people that way – for all the flaws characters of mine possess. It might well be the sort of people I associate with, the intentional avoidance of ‘that’ sort of person and prefer friends who don’t mess with each other – who don’t play games and see others as a means to an end.
So I’ll never write the Great Gatsby, but I’m guessing I’ll enjoy life more as a result.