In these tough times, it's often difficult to explain to others why we writers keep writing. Where does the time come from for such frivolity as creating imaginary folks dealing with imaginary conflicts when real dilemmas devastate so many? Surely our time might be better used chasing after more lucrative endeavors — feeding the family, paying the bills, saving what we can. If you're anything like me, you have a rote list of answers you can throw at your naysayers:

Oh you know, writing relaxes me.
It's in my blood. I don't know how not to write.
Tough times give me good material, beats writing about sunshine and eternal happiness.

All of these may in fact be true. But lately I've found myself giving people a different response:

It's in times like these when we need to be writing, and reading, more. Not just to preserve our cultural history but also because tough circumstances afford us a lens through which we can see the world more clearly, let us reflect on the human condition more holistically.

I don't mean to say that everyone should go out and pen a tale about fiscal excess and greedy Ponzi scheme masterminds, although tragedy does invite exploration via the written word. One only has to look at the explosion of 9/11, Taliban, and Iraq-based writing, fiction and non-fiction, to see how global misfortune compels the imagination. And I personally can attest to the recent increase in financial conspiracy stories I've seen in my writing groups.

No, what I mean is that tough times bring out unexpected truths about human nature. In times of war, we might see stories about a war profiteer who does what he does to feed his own family. In times of plague, perhaps we see a woman who intentionally exposes her children to the germ so they will survive the disease first and be stronger for it. And in times of depression, recession, or just plain crappy economics, what truths can be found? For the father working two jobs to make ends meet, is the reward having the money to pay for his daughter"s band trip? Is it the grateful kiss his wife gives him in his sleep? Or is it the silence that greets him when he comes home at 2 a.m., the only moment of peace he has for himself?

Adversity is just as much a part of the human condition as prosperity. We may bemoan the lack of compensation we get for our hard-fought words, but we should never forget to be grateful that we have the will, and the opportunity, to observe human triumphs and stumbles, to stimulate discussion about them, and to leave our readers pondering our views. The experience is worth far more than the 2 cents per word we might someday receive for our efforts.