We all have culturally induced ADD: Why books are getting shorter

“Anyone who has time to clean is not reading nearly enough.”

— RE:BOOKS

Columnist Christie Blatchford (RIP) once threw a phone in my face, another time screamed at me bringing me to tears, and still owes me $80. But all is forgivable since she also taught me a very valuable — if not one of the most valuable — lessons when it comes to writing. 

In other more words, she taught me about word count.

Allow me to digress…

Yes, every mother thinks she’s the first woman ever to give birth. This is why when I went to the hospital for my first scheduled C-section 18 years ago, my hospital bag looked like I was going on a tropical vacation. 

I had packed Ann-Marie MacDonald's novel Fall On Your Knees. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking! Apparently, I thought, “Meh, when my baby is sleeping, I’ll have all this free time, so I might as well bring something to read to kill the boredom.” 

Well, it turns out I didn’t have time to read anything, let alone a novel that is more than 550 pages! But you don't get this advice in the 600ish-paged What to Expect When You're Expecting, which is considered the parenting horror bible. 

Aside from the actual bible (783,137 words) What to Expect — now in its fifth edition with more than 20 million copies sold — still remains #1 on Amazon in the “pregnancy” category. 

When it was initially printed 1,000 years ago in 1984, apparently 93% of expectant mothers had read this book. Interesting, it seems this is the only book that has grown lengthier with each edition. (The first edition was 351 pages. The fifth edition was 678 pages.) 

Even as the suggested weight gain for pregnant women continues to shrink, What to Expect keeps expanding (with more words to add to worries you’d never otherwise have). 

My guess is that each edition needed major rewrites. (No, I do not know how to knit a going home outfit! Yes, I know cocaine is bad for a fetus.) And the language given in 1984 needed a lot of updating (I have to keep my vagina away from the microwave? Lamaze classes? And yes, I will take the epidural. Why breath through pain when you can smother it?) 

What to Expect was published before a million parenting sites, Facebook groups, and mommy blogs popped up — although, it was smart enough to go digital. 

WhatToExpect.com debuted in April 2005. 

I never finished it — I don't think I got passed the intro — not because of the length but because it did the opposite of calming my nerves. The one and only reason this pregnancy book probably sold so many copies, and still does (even as it expands) is because (most) first time expectant moms devour any, and all, pregnancy advice.

But now? It is so much easier to Google what the fuck happens with a mucus plug than it is to flip through a 600-page book to find the chapter on dysfunctional mucous plugs.

(If you want to really know what to expect, you can read my memoir here it’s that once the baby comes out, it stays out.) 

Which is why even though Fall on Your Knees is one of my favourite novels, I only managed to finish it…three years after I had left the hospital with my beautiful baby.   

It turns out that once you become a mother, it not only becomes harder to write, as I wrote about here, but it has also become harder — mother or not — to find the energy to read these days. 

Any mother reading this should be laughing at my stupidity me for packing a 550-page plus novel before giving birth. 

My hardcover copy of Fall On Your Knees may have even weighed more than my daughter’s birth weight. (Come back to check out this article, where author Danielle Crittenden delves into the shocking weight pandemic in America.)

Spoiler alert for expectant moms about to give birth: you will not have time or energy to read anything longer than the cultish posters that say “Breast is Best.”

Even reading those three words after giving birth took a lot of work! (And was annoying. My boobs. My body. Don't agree? Don't care.)

Anyhow, I hope you're still with me because this piece is about length, namely how long in the year 2022 a book should be. 

Every single time I help coach an author, one of their first questions is, "How many pages should my book be?”

My answer: “I don’t think in pages. I think in word count.”

The problem, at least with a good book, is that you want to finish the book, but you don't want to finish the book. That’s how, as an ordinary reader, I can pinpoint a good book.

But back to Christie Blatchford, who was a very well-known — and much loved in many circles — columnist who taught me that word count matters.

One day when we were in the newsroom at the same time, which was as rare, she gave me her sympathies for my dead dog. It was super sweet — sweeter than when she threw a cellphone at my face — but there was one problem. 

My dog hadn’t died.

I had written a piece, which was obviously too long or too boring for her to finish to the end, where I wrote that my dog was indeed alive and well. 

Long story short — for word count purposes, obvs — I had written about my dog who had been diagnosed with a tumour. So, I went to spend the day with him. At the next vet appointment, the tumour miraculously disappeared. My dog was perfectly healthy. And, more importantly, still alive. 

I definitely don’t blame Christie for not finishing the piece. I blame myself.

To this day, I still think, “Me bad. That piece was too long to keep people's attention.” 

Another lesson I learned in the newsroom from one of my editors at the time, the brilliant journalist and editor Robert Benzie, is that the word “that" is the equivalent of using the F-word. Don't use it. It is not needed. It adds to your word count.

So, what is the length of an ideal book? 

From a purely ordinary person's perspective, if I stop reading to check to see the acknowledgment page, just so I know how many pages are left? Too long!

When I once missed my subway stop because I was so immersed reading? Well, let's just say it didn’t feel like a lengthy book — even though I ended up both in Buffalo and in tears, because I had no idea where I was and was also sad that the book had ended, leaving me in a state of grief (while also wondering how to get back home and what year it was).

If I finish a book and wonder what month we’re in because I couldn't stop reading? Perfect length!

The issue of word count has a lot to do with marketing and sales than that actual writing.

Most publishers consider novel-length word count between 50,000 and 110,000 words. If you are a first-time writer, aiming for 90,000 words is a safe goal, according to most publishers.

Personally, I tell aspiring authors to aim for 75k words. (If you want to estimate the number of pages, divide the word count by the number of words on a page. Standard manuscript formatting of double-spaced document in 12-point font contains about 250 words.)

The problem with a good book is that you want to finish the book but you don't want to finish the book. If you feel this way, does length actually matter?

I am terrible, utterly terrible, at keeping to strict word counts. Because I write conversationally, it is actually much harder to keep to a 500-word length than it would be for a financial advisor to write about the stock market.

Since starting this newsletter, “I’m double-booked” has taken on an entirely new meaning. 

I can also tell if the length of a book is about right when I don't start another book before I’ve finished the one I’m presently reading (thus not “double-booking”).

Admittedly, when Maya and I read the books we recommend, if the title just never makes sense by chapter four, well, we “double-book” and start reading a new one.

"It seems as though everyone is developing what's being called “culturally induced ADD," says

Michael Levin, founder, and CEO of BusinessGhost, Inc., which provides writing services, says in “Books are getting shorter; here's why.” 

Levin says, in ConsumerAffairs, that technology is “partially” to blame for shorter books these days.

He describes us as a society so easily distracted by the fascination of devices and what they offer (social media, email, stock prices, news, shopping, filters) that we are losing our ability for “sustained thought.” 

He says that books nowadays are “radically” shorter.

"You can find on Amazon countless 'books' that are from 30 to 100 pages; these would never have been considered 'books' a generation ago,” he says.

So does that mean authors should write shorter books? And don't some books need to be lengthy to get the author's story and plot across?

"Yes, absolutely — some books do have to be longer. But I'm hard-pressed to think of exactly which books those are," says Levin.

One brain scientist explains that texting decreases our ability to think —whether you are writing or reading — in an elaborate way because it eliminates sentences. 

“Put it all together and it seems that no one has the patience to sit quietly and read a book, as we might have a generation or even 10 years ago."

Partially is not exactly the word that I would use. If he sees, even partially, just how much my kid is addicted to his devices, I would rewind my entire parenting style, banning devices at home entirely and giving the kid a skipping rope. (When was the last time you saw a kid skipping? Exactly!) 

Dave Chesson and Kindlepreneur surveyed his readers and found that for fiction, the average is 280 words per page; 230 words per page was the average for non-fiction.

So if your novel is 90,000 words, that's 320 pages.

If you want to write a hit, 100k words might be the sweet spot. At 100,000 words, several novels became bestsellers, including Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, Ian McEwan’s Atonement, and Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice — all adapted for Oscar-nominated movies. (You can also scroll back here to see how Will Fucking Smith ruined my two-decade writing routine, thanks to his behaviour at #Oscar2022)

Ninety thousand words may seem daunting but also absolutely doable with discipline. (If you wrote 1,000 words a day, you’d be finished in three months!)

Again, pinch yourselves keep with me!

Patience is not one of my strong suits either. 

Sometimes, when I'm texting with My Guy and waiting for a response, I'll think, "It's been 12 fucking seconds! Is he writing a goddamn book?” That’s how impatient I am.

Knowing the ideal length for your novel helps in planning your story arc. A 300- or 400-page novel may be totally acceptable for telling a great story. But…

“The readership for the 600- or 700-page biography is vanishing,” says Levin. He asks us to ask ourselves, ‘When was the last time we read any 250-page or a longer nonfiction book on any subject, cover to cover?’ 

Even people who read a lot may have to think about this before trying to answer.

And, from a biz point of view, reading habits are changing. If we can't even commit to a fucking dinner date with people we actually like and are friends anymore, why would we commit to reading hundreds upon hundreds of pages of a book we may or may not enjoy?

We are suffering from intellectual laziness. For example, I consider the menu at the cheesecake factory to be “reading” a short story. 

Levin also blames e-readers for shorter books nowadays. He doesn't believe it’s a trend either. He thinks it’s here to stay. 

It's hard, he argues, to sustain the energy to read a lengthy book on a device, because we “associate devices with quick hits, short answers, and immediate intellectual gratification.” 

Which is what happens when we do a Google search, visit Wikipedia or WebMd. We expect instant answers, and we get them.

Most publishers (used to?) want a novel of at least 70,000 words for two reasons: More words = more pages = a bigger spine = more spotlight on a bookshelf. 

Some publishing research shows that readers see a slim book as “not worth the price.” 

I disagree. I read a fascinating memoir, Inconceivable, about a women’s journey of infertility and surrogacy that was super compelling, super informative, and super well-written. The length was just over 150 pages.

Does it look slim? Well, it definitely didn't need to go on a diet, so not really. As pointed out here, one of the greatest novels of all time is just over 47,000 words. 

“I have never heard anyone complain that The Great Gatsby was not a good value. There are plenty of others: Fight Club, Of Mice and Men, The Quiet American, The Old Man and the Sea (which is one of my father’s favs. Happy Father's Day!). All 60,000 words or less. 

“If the story is good, if the narrative is satisfying, length means nothing,” this author writes. 

I totally agree. That being said, it's just not how the world our brains work anymore. 

Have you noticed that posts on LinkedIn and various sites have started to display the time it takes to read an article before you’ve even read the first sentence?

Who is deciding my articles take 12 minutes to read and telling everyone so? I guarantee you, unless you are a proofreader looking for every comma error, my articles shouldn't take anyone more than seven minutes to read.

Apparently, showing the estimated reading time of articles helps engagement — meaning more readers. I, respectfully, disagree. In fact, anyone estimating how long it will take me to read something before I even read the first word is actually off-putting. I’m not THAT intellectually lazy. Yet. 

You’re not engaging anyone by guesstimating how long it takes someone to read something. Deeming the reading time actually turns people (at least me) away. Let me decide by reading the article first, if I want to finish it or not, and not by the amount of time some computer thinks I can read.

Imagine if physical books started adding estimated reading times on the cover? “This book will take you 14 hours to read!”

Exactly. 

Your first thought is, “I don’t have 14 hours of free time to read. Oh, look at those pretty blankets!”

Nowadays, if a book so much as looks too long, it actually is the equivalent of the best Jewish guilt trip ever pulled. And yes, I can say this because I am Jewish and being guilt-tripped is part of our DNA. My rabbi said so.

I feel guilty now looking at lengthy books because even though I am an author who supports authors, I am also a human who knows that if a book is more than 300-350 pages, I probably will not finish it these days, and it leaves me shaking and pleading to the universe, “Why are you doing this to me?” as I walk out of the bookstore empty-handed (aside from the pretty pair of earrings I bought).

The book publishing industry has this belief that when readers are deciding to purchase a book, its physical size plays a part.

There seems to be a new very slow changing standard in publishing that when it comes to word counts, but like many things that I'm learning, I candidly admit some of these “rules” are made to be should be broken, because they are so outdated that I find myself asking, “Why not bring back fax machines, DVDs, and memorizing phone numbers while we’re at it?”

Some agents and publishers still ask to send in your manuscript by mail. Um, I don't even know how much a fucking stamp costs anymore. I don’t own a printer either. Do you see how this is may be problematic for a modern-day author?

Alas, publishers are the gatekeepers — but obviously a more academic book, even if it’s the same length as a rom-com or thriller, is going to take me longer to read.

Editors at publishing houses — with their book-length “guidelines" decided by whom, some outlaw in the wild west? — will dismiss your book if it doesn’t meet their word count expectations. Even editors don’t have the same attention spans they once had.

According to this masterclass article, the general rule of thumb for a debut novel is in the 80,000 to 100,000 range. “While anything over 40,000 words can fall into the novel category, 50,000 is considered the minimum novel length. Anything over 110,000 words is (now) considered too long for a novel.”

With my editor's hat on, I also know a good book when I am loving it, but then my eyes dart to the last page, spoiling the entire book, making me go into self-loathing mode. And my children will be all like, “Why aren’t you looking at me upside down, Mommy?" And I'll be like, "Why aren't you looking at the book in my hand?”

But more often than not, I'll be like, "Mommy just asked you what you did today at school," to which my 17  10-year-old will respond behind his iPad with glazed eyes, “I’m in the middle of a game." 

"Put it on pause,” I’ll tell him. To which he'll respond, “I will die. You can't pause this game!”

To which I think, “Gamers are so fucking smart. Now you can't pause a video game anymore or you’ll die? What would happen if you couldn't pause a book or you'll die?” 

(That would be cool. I’d get to know my device-addicted son better.)

I've said from the start that publishing needs a makeover for the modern reader. I'm far from alone. As this reader/writer writes, “I love my indie bookstore. I support it. I want it to thrive. But the truth is, most book buying these days does not happen at a bookstore. Like it or not, it happens online.”

So, having a lengthy book with a big spine to show off the title is as relevant these days as using a paper map, in an age where we have step-by-step directions on Google Maps or Waze.

With the rise of self-publishing and bookstores on life-support, the only way to keep a bookstore in business is to also sell candles. But so what?

Personally, I think we need to shame people into reading again. (Read more about fat-shaming here!) 

Maybe if we shamed people into reading, they will eventually start to read longer books again!

My heart almost stopped — I even checked my pulse — knowing that Levin is probably more right than wrong when he says, “People seem to be getting along fine without books. The real trend is not just shorter books; it's that we may be moving away from the idea of reading books altogether.”

Basically, if a book can make my heart swell or break, then it’s doing its job. If I am staying up until 3:00 a.m. wondering how the protagonists can change their life and think I can give them advice as if they were real?, the book is doing a good job. If I absolutely want to smack the antagonist for their stupidity, the book is doing a good job. If the story keeps me emotionally invested, even finding myself mourning certain characters, then…you see where I'm going. 

So, I’ll stop. I’ve already taken up 12 minutes of your time. 

Until next time, flip your hair and flip the page (and if you did read this to the end, let me know here by saying hey (oh, and check out this handy chart below!).

xoxo,

Rebecca