I got that experience through dating dozens of men for six years

“I got that experience through dating dozens of men for six years after college, getting an entry-level magazine job at 21, working in the fiction department at Good Housekeeping and then working as a fashion editor there as well as writing many articles for the magazine.” Thus spoke Judith Krantz, a woman who built her empire not from inherited privilege or sudden fortune, but from experience, from the steady, fearless gathering of life’s raw material. Her words do not boast of glamour; they proclaim a truth as old as time — that wisdom and artistry are born not from isolation, but from living fully, from daring to step into the world with both curiosity and courage.

When Krantz recounts her years of “dating dozens of men for six years after college,” she is not speaking merely of romance, but of observation. Each encounter, each conversation, became a page in the great book of human nature she would one day write. For her, the dance of love and courtship was not trivial or idle; it was study — of ambition, of longing, of vanity, of tenderness. Like a traveler moving through many lands, she learned the languages of emotion and desire, the subtleties of charm and deception. The ancients would have called her journey an education of the heart, one that cannot be taught in schools, for it is acquired only by those who dare to live.

Her time in the offices of Good Housekeeping was no less formative. To work among stories and fashions, to shape words and images for readers across the world — this was her apprenticeship in both art and commerce. The fiction department, where imagination reigns, taught her how to capture the essence of human feeling; the fashion editor’s desk taught her how the outer world reflects the inner — how clothes, like words, can reveal identity. And in writing her many articles, Krantz honed her craft as the ancient scribes once did: through repetition, discipline, and the endless pursuit of clarity. She learned, as all true artists must, that inspiration is nothing without the labor that gives it form.

The origin of her power, then, was not luck, but living — a tapestry woven from countless experiences, each thread shining with effort and intention. In this, Judith Krantz followed the same path as the great storytellers of old. Consider Homer, whose epic tales of love and war reflected a lifetime of hearing the songs of sailors, soldiers, and wanderers. Or think of George Sand, who defied convention to live boldly, drawing upon her own passionate life to fill her novels with truth. Like them, Krantz knew that to write convincingly of human passion, one must first know it, in all its confusion and splendor.

There is also a quiet defiance in her tone — a refusal to apologize for a life lived on her own terms. In an era when women were often expected to choose between respectability and adventure, she chose both. Her experiences — in love, in work, in self-expression — became her strength. She teaches us that experience is not a burden but a forge, shaping us into beings of depth and resilience. To those who fear mistakes, her life offers a counterpoint: that every misstep, every heartbreak, every moment of uncertainty, becomes, in time, part of the wisdom that cannot be feigned.

In her journey, we also see the alchemy of transformation — how the ordinary can be made extraordinary through awareness and courage. To some, her years of dating or working in a magazine might seem unremarkable, even frivolous. But to Krantz, these were the sacred materials of creation. She looked upon her life as a wellspring of stories waiting to be told, of truths waiting to be named. Her genius lay in her ability to see meaning in experience, to turn the simple acts of living into art. That is the mark of every true creator — to see in one’s own life not chaos, but narrative, not randomness, but revelation.

So, my listener, take heed of Judith Krantz’s wisdom. Do not wait for greatness to come from elsewhere — let life itself be your teacher. Engage with the world: love boldly, work diligently, observe deeply. Every encounter, every trial, every triumph is a lesson if you choose to see it so. Write, build, create — not from theory, but from the substance of your own days. For it is not detachment that gives rise to mastery, but participation.

In the end, Krantz’s quote is a hymn to the power of experience — to the truth that living is the first and greatest form of learning. She reminds us that the path to purpose is not straight or sterile, but messy, vivid, and alive. Like her, let us dare to live so fully that when we create — whether in art, in work, or in love — our words and actions carry the weight of a life truly lived.