Why Luck Isn’t a Chance. It’s a Choice.

They say fortune favors the brave, but I think it just favors the ones who think to ask.

A few weeks ago, I came across a contest to build an app using a no-code tool called Lovable.ai. The winners would fly to Stockholm for a 48-hour hackathon and a chance at 20,000 euros.

So, I rallied an application, submitted it pretty much right before cutoff, and crossed my fingers. Spoilers: I did not get selected. No Stockholm. No prize money.

Around the same time, I took another swing at something. Seattle AI Week is coming up at the end of October, with talks and seminars all over the city. Since I spend my days in tech (and more recently, neck-deep in AI), I applied to be a speaker.

A couple of days later, I got the email: I’ll be speaking at Seattle AI Week. Venue TBD, but still…Seattle, not Stockholm. And I’ll take it.

Both of these moments reminded me of a practice I’ve been trying to keep lately: every so often, take a moonshot. Throw your name in for something bold, different, or out of reach. Give it a try just to see what happens. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you win. But either way, you give luck a chance to find you.

So this week, let’s talk about shooting your shot, what it really looks like, how to handle the misses, and why asking for things you might not get is still one of the smartest things you can do.

What Putting Yourself Out There Actually Looks Like

My brother used to say that half of life is just showing up. But that’s easy to forget.

It’s so tempting to wait for the perfect conditions…the right mood, the right preparation, the right amount of confidence. But perfect conditions almost never exist. Showing up means stepping into the arena despite the uncertainty. It’s saying: I may not know everything, but I’ll try and be willing to learn. That mindset separates those who wait for opportunities from those who create them

Cause shooting your shot isn’t about being the best candidate. It’s about being a candidate. Most people never even apply. They see something exciting, unusual, scary, or fascinating and then immediately list all the reasons they’re not qualified. The why I shouldn’t do this voice is often so much louder than the why not voice.

That Stockholm application took me all of three hours total. I wrote a quick pitch for what I’d build, gave them a quick bio of yours truly, and sent it off. No grand strategy. No perfect timing. Just a decent attempt at the last possible moment.

Seattle AI Week was a similar story. I looked at what they needed, figured out what I could offer that might be useful, and put together a simple, direct email, something easy for them to say yes to.

Cause being qualified can be beside the point. Most opportunities aren’t about finding “the best.” They’re about finding someone interesting, useful, and frankly available. And sometimes that’s enough.

The Lovable contest wasn’t looking for the world’s top developer; they wanted people who could build something functional in 48 hours and tell a good story about it. Seattle AI Week wasn’t looking for industry titans; they wanted speakers who could share practical insights with their audience.

I wasn’t the best candidate for either one. But folks, I was a candidate. And sometimes, that’s all it takes.

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How to Handle the Misses (And Why They're Not So Scary)

So yeah, about putting yourself out there: most people never do it. And I get it, I really do.

Putting yourself out there, especially for something that feels like a reach, is uncomfortable. Your brain starts running disaster scenarios: What if they say no? What if I look unqualified? What if I embarrass myself?

But the worst thing that usually happens is (wait for it)…nothing. No response. No dramatic rejection. Just silence.

And silence isn't all that bad when you think about it. It's actually kind of peaceful compared to all the catastrophic scenarios your brain was running.

The real problem isn't rejection. The real problem is that we treat every "no" or radio silence like it's feedback about our worth as human beings. Most of the time, a no just means "not right now" or "not the right fit" or "we already filled that spot." It almost never means "you're a terrible person and should never try again, what in God’s name were you thinking!?!"

Take my Stockholm application. Did they reject me because I'm awful at building apps? I’m gonna go with no. More likely, they had hundreds (if not thousands) of submissions for a handful of spots, and mine didn't make the cut. That's it. End of story.
No.
Big.
Deal.

Once you realize this, rejections stop feeling so heavy. They're just information. Data points. Part of the process. If you can really embrace this mindset—oh. my. gawd!—it's freeing.

Cause the people who seem to "get lucky" aren't always more talented or more deserving. They're just more willing to take shots they might miss. They understand that "no" isn't the end of the story. It's just part of the story.

It’s so easy to take rejection personally. At one point in my life, a form letter could have ruined my day. But over time I learned something important: the fear of rejection was almost always worse than the rejection itself.

When someone says no, I'm in the exact same spot I was before I asked. The only difference is that now I know where I stand. But when I don't ask at all, I'm stuck wondering what if forever.

And the math maths out: if you never ask, your success rate is zero. If you ask and get rejected 90 percent of the time, your success rate is still so much better.

Why This Is One of the Smartest Things You Can Do

I believe that asking for things you might not get is a skill to be learned. And like any skill, the more you practice it, the better you get.

Every chance you take, whether you make it or miss it, teaches you something:

• How to spot opportunities.

• How to craft a clear message.

• How to handle rejection without taking it personally.

• How to follow up.

• How to time your request.

When you build the habit of shooting your shot, you train yourself to see opportunities instead of obstacles. Most people look at a contest or speaking slot and immediately go nope. Not for me. They talk themselves out of it before they even consider applying.

When you start asking anyway, you flip the script. You see something and think, "Why not me?" Instead of focusing on why you don't belong, you start focusing on why you just might.

And guys, that shift changes everything. It really does. You notice opportunities you would have overlooked. You start conversations you would have avoided. You put yourself in rooms you never would have entered.

Even when you don't get what you asked for, people are gonna remember that you asked. They remember that you showed up. They remember who the hell you are. My brother was right y’all.

Every shot you take builds your reputation as someone who shows up. Someone who contributes. Someone worth paying attention to. And more often than not, that's worth more than the outcome of any individual ask.

In Conclusion

Alright, so I still don't have a venue for my Seattle AI Week talk. But I’ll figure it out. Because when you start saying yes to yourself by taking a chance at the things you want, the universe has a funny way of saying yes back.

Most people spend their whole lives waiting for permission that's never going to come. They wait for the perfect moment, the perfect qualifications, the perfect opportunity. But the perfect F’ing moment is almost never when you feel ready. It's when you decide that all you have to do is get out of your own way.

That's how you make your own luck. Not by hoping good things will happen to you, but by actively creating opportunities for good things to happen. By putting yourself out there before you feel ready. By asking for things you probably won't get.

Because sometimes—just sometimes—you will get them. And when you do, you'll realize that luck was never about chance at all. It was about having the courage to ask.

As always, thanks for reading,
— Derek
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