Writers are very lucky people, I think. I wanted to be a writer since I was in first grade, and I remember when I sold my first short story, to the Michigan Quarterly Review, I got myself a T-shirt that said WRITER on it, cut out the neck (that's what you do in ballet class) and wore it to the studio all that year. I was so proud and excited! (No one really cared. They all wanted to be dancers.) But I cared, and every pirouette I made (I admit I could do four! Count them! Four!) I felt more like a writer than a dancer, and I swear that made me spin.
Now, I can't do more than one sloppy pirouette and my toe shoes are a thing of the past. But put me in front of a computer or a piece of paper, and I feel as if I'm home.