Staying Connected -- A.J. Larrieu

Talking to a three-year-old on Skype is a good way to understand the limitations of the medium. Since I live in California and most of my family doesn’t, I end up having a lot of conversations over the internet, and it works much better with the adults in my life. “Talking” to my nephew usually involves him running by in a blur, waving a toy truck. I’m glad I get to see how much he grows every year, but it’s not the same as taking him to the park in person.

If there’s a spirit of our times, I think it must be this: the paradox of families being hyper-connected but spread thin across the world. There are so many ways for us to get in touch with people we love, but none of them ever feel complete compared to being in the same room. I’m not saying all the social networking we do is bad: I love it! But it’s no substitute for the real thing, and I think the popularity of facebook, twitter, facetime, etc. etc. etc .is linked to the fact that none of these things is quite enough.

It’s a disturbing talent of mine to link everything back to writing—sort of a self-centered six-degrees-of-separation—but this one’s easy. What are stories, if not ways for us to connect with each other? My nephew tells me complicated, made-up stories about the adventures of his tiny toy cars. Having dinner with a couple of new friends, my husband and I told old stories we’ve heard a hundred times, taking a different kind of comfortable pleasure in hearing them again. (Like the one about him almost getting hit by a train: funny now, not funny at the time.) Stories aren’t just a nice way to connect, they’re the only way to connect. Publishing a book, well, that’s a way to tell a story to thousands of people, whether it’s a true story or one that only feels true.

Every so often, an agent or publishing professional will post a blog entry about the explosion of unsolicited submissions, wondering aloud why they keep increasing. (Here’s an example from literary agent and writer Nathan Bransford.) Is it the economy? The fact that anybody with a computer can write a book? I think those things are probably part of it, but I also think there’s something more societal and systemic at work. Now more than ever, people are moving away from their families and trying to forge new lives in strange cities, strange countries. It’s what I’ve done. My husband and I have become part of a community of other “orphans” out here in San Francisco, but sometimes it can feel sad, being cut off from your roots and trying to grow news ones. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, and I’m betting I’m not the only one writing stories as a way of understanding it, as a way of connecting with the huge, scary rest-of-the-world. Anybody else want to confess?


A. J. Larrieu writes urban fantasy set in southern Louisiana and the San Francisco Bay Area. She is represented by Sarah LaPolla at Curtis Brown, Ltd., and her first novel is on submission. Visit her at www.ajlarrieu.com.