NELL Freudenberger first made a splash in 2001 when her story "Lucky Girls" was printed in the summer fiction issue of The New Yorker. Freudenberger, one of the four "debut writers" published by the magazine, was 26 then. Overnight she came the envy of all twentysomething writers who all had their first books in their heads. Freudenberger’s insider status — she was editorial assistant at The New Yorker when her story was published — her looks, all ensured that of these four debut writers, the buzz about her lingered the longest.

Next followed a bidding war for her then unwritten book, purely on the basis of her first published story. ‘‘At least now there is this book. But before it was written, the hype was frightening. People would ask me, is it all hype? And I would think, well, maybe it is,’’ says Freudenberger, in New Delhi for the India release of her five-story collection Lucky Girls.

Freudenberger and her stories perhaps best illustrate the predicament of today’s creative nomad. She, a sometime New Yorker, has for instance taken up temporary residence in cities like Delhi and Bangkok. Her stories — personal and those of her imagination — are thus rooted in scattered urban settings. Together they may make up a whole, and certainly the process of crafting them must be enormously satisfying. But at some point these tales must be sent to individual territories, and the rather common demand for ‘‘authenticity’’ can be frightening.

At a reading of her short stories in Chennai, Freudenberger didn’t choose a story set in India, she went for the one in Thailand. ‘‘I was terrified,’’ she confesses, ‘‘that someone would point out a mistake or something.’’ It’s a terror most writers are beginning to get familiar with. Globalisation has meant that films and books are being released almost simultaneously all over the world and the Internet has spread the word on who is writing what in other parts of the world. The impulse to write about other cities, other cultures is now being balanced by the fear of going wrong and being found out. ‘‘You do think of what people in the countries that your stories are set in will think of them but it’s not a pressure when you are writing. When I write I don’t think of it as a book that will be read by other people. If you do that, it’s just not possible to write because you will be constantly thinking, oh, I stole that detail about that person, I hope she won’t mind. I don’t even think of my book as something that will finally go in between two pieces of cardboard.’’

Freudenberger may be a part of the growing circle of urban globetrotters for whom home is a shifting space and disorientation a feeling that stays on even at home, but as she says, there is a lot that’s American about her that won’t just fade away. Which is probably why her characters remain essentially American, whatever their surroundings. They are always representatives of Americans Abroad. And their stories are not essays in cultural dissection. ‘‘I’m not a sociologist and I haven’t stayed in other countries long enough to write like that.’’ Freudenberger has been to India three times and during one of her stays she taught English at a school run by an NGO in Delhi. ‘‘I’ve been to India before but now being an American Abroad is almost distasteful. Actually it’s a bit embarrassing.’’

A year of teaching in Bangkok gave Freudenberger another opportunity to broaden her canvas. So in ‘‘The Orphan’’ — one of the best stories in the collection — Mandy is a young American looking after HIV-infected kids in Bangkok and her brother is part of the Cool Rich Kids club who give some of their parents’ money to charity.

In "The Tutor", Julia is an American preparing for her SAT exams who prefers low slung jeans, has her belly button pierced and hangs out at Barista.

‘‘In my stories mainly I write about expat-Americans who may be in other countries but they get together and make little islands — which is true of other communities too, like Indians in America. But that’s not me though — for one I didn’t have so much money when I was travelling. I couldn’t afford to stay in hotels like this then,’’ says Freudenberger, relaxing at the Imperial in Delhi.