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I’m inching ever closer to 30. In fact, as of today there are 364 days until I cross the threshold and say goodbye to twenty-ville.

I don’t have a Before-I-turn-30 bucket list (they exist!?), and while my 12-year-old self would be disappointed with where I’ve ended up at age 29, I don’t know how realistic my idea of owning a penthouse in Manhattan after inventing a teleportation box was. (There is still time, there is.)

Not a lot changes come July 2014 - but there is a looming pressure to do something. Achieve something. Write another book. Or create the multi-media franchise that I know the book/movie/gaming/entertainment market is sorely lacking. Launch a start-up development company. Buy a house. Something.

By his late twenties Rimbaud had done all of his living, Zuckerberg had launched Facebook, Heaney had written Death of a Naturalist, Watson discovered the structure of DNA … Google was found when Sergey and Larry were 25.

I have a generous and long-suffering partner and some of the funniest, most inexhaustible and supportive friends. I work for three progressive and creative companies doing what I love.

And there’s still a petulant 12 year old in the back of my mind crying out, more? MORE! There’s still time to buy that Manhattan penthouse and invent teleportation.

I have 364 days to do something great: suggestions on a postcard, or comment below, please.