what the what?

I happened upon a piece of an interview with the writer Linda Barry the other day as I was driving home from the morning carpool.  She said that creativity, be it drawing or singing or writing, is a biological need.  I found myself chewing on that phrase for most of the day.  What are our other biological needs?  Eating, breathing, drinking, sleeping.  Are artists simultaneously so revered and reviled because we've found a way to make a living (sort of) by living?  Are we akin to the folks at the Coney Island Hot Dog Eating contest--fulfilling a biological need in an obscenely public and gluttonous sort of way?  I don't think this is what she meant.  I think she meant that the desire to tell our stories and connect to one another is as integral to our species as opposable thumbs.  Whatever she meant, I found it a little bit easier to sit my ass in the chair and do it.  Breathe, Drink, Write.  (Great book title, eh?)  I sat down to do my work and I thought--it's in me.  It's biological, for god's sake.  Like acids breaking down proteins.  Like bones connecting and twirling in their joints.  Like the thick muscle in your chest flexing itself with a rhythm it found years ago.