It would stand to reason that a writer that has led an interesting life could write an interesting novel.
Unless you’re E. M. Forster.
If you’re him, you would lead an interesting life and then write a real clunker about despicable people doing deplorable things. You might posit that you’ve written a work filled to the brim with themes that your prose would never adequately explore.
None of which will matter when you eventually write A Passage To India.
Yeah, we didn’t care for this “essential novel.”