I have a long commute. It's approximately fifty-seven miles to work, and fifty-seven miles back home. That takes almost two hours out of my day. However, I am lucky because there is no traffic, and the speed limit is 75 mph.

Sometimes when I drive, I sit in silence and think. It is a nice time for reflection and for brainstorming. I have also found that I can be productive during that time, by dictating story scenes and blog posts.

I often think about how much time I have wasted in my life. Time that I cannot get back. I am incredibly busy, cramming as much as I can into every moment that I am awake. I want to be able to say that I lived my life well, and I didn't squander it away.

I am proud to finally be a published author, and am thrilled to know that I have a novel, short stories, and legal articles out there that show that I do exist. I may never be a well-known author, but what I have produced leaves behind a footprint showcasing one of my talents.

This would never have happened if I hadn't finally taken a chance on myself. I remember the day my first story was accepted for publication. It was a nonpaying magazine, but I was thrilled to know that an editor thought my writing was good enough to print.

After I got that first acceptance, I knew I had to continue putting myself out there, so I did. Yes, there have been several rejections, but they don't hurt as much as I thought they would. I don't take rejection personally, and I don’t have time to dwell on why I was rejected. I just send it out again, and hope that I find the right match.

I have enough confidence in my own abilities to know that I can write, and sometimes I get lucky enough to share it with others. Every submission is nerve-racking, but if you don't continually take a chance on yourself, you will never know what success feels like.