You can do more. This doesn’t mean you aren’t doing enough right now, it means you contain multitudes, you are a powerful force full of too many stories to tell the same one over and over.
The only way to get published anywhere is to actually submit your work. That guy might have gotten published because he was a man or because he has “life experience,” but ultimately, he got published because he submitted.
Whenever I put on my combat boots and layer a chunky sweater over a sundress, I hear a little voice in my head all day long that says “Fuck yeah, I am providing a valuable service because I have a marketable skill.” You just don’t get that vibe from your underwear (or maybe you do, in which case, kudos).
I get to hang out in a bar with my friends once a week, and I roll sparkly pink dice to determine if I successfully shoot a demon through its nonexistent heart, which is exactly the kind of femme fatale shit I’m looking for. But as a writer, I’ve noticed that my personality is not always overly compatible with D&D.