Why Most Advice Books Are 240 Pages (and Shouldn’t Be?)

A wake-up call for authors and readers who want their lives back...

Ever read a book and thought…

Interesting idea, but that could’ve been an op-ed. Or a feature in the Atlantic. Or, kept to the 12 minutes that seemed to do it justice on the TED stage.

Or, wondered why 95% of all advice books, regardless of the topic, are 240 pages, plus or minus 20?

Is it just a cold, hard truth that every idea worth sharing takes exactly that many pages to do it justice?

Seems suspect.

What’s really going on here?

I’ve written six books. Four were a blend of big idea/advice books, published by big NYC houses. Different topics, different publishers And, yet, to the one, each contract required me to deliver a 60,000 word manuscript, which translates to, you guessed it, 240 book pages.

Question is, why?

Why is nearly every advice book just about the same length? And, why do they have to be that long?

Turns out, it has little to do with how long it takes to share an idea in a compelling way. It’s about the business of publishing, excluding indie and hybrid, which are blowing up this paradigm.

Let’s break it down.

When you deduct printing costs, distribution discounts (booksellers often pay publishers less than half retail), returns, salaries, rent, office overhead, marketing, and publicity spends (ahahahahahaaa, that was funny), and, of course, author advances and royalties, publishers need to have enough left over to make the whole endeavor worthwhile.

Fair enough. Everyone deserves their piece of the pie.

For this model to work, they’ve got to be able to price a book at a level that not only covers these costs, but also makes a profit. In truth, they actually lose money on most books, break even on a handful, make nice money on a couple, then make mega bank on a precious few. It’s the venture capital model, let loose on words. In order to make it work, they need to be able to price the typical hardcover at $25 to $35, and paperback at $15 to $18.

Which begs the question…

How do you get someone to pay that much for a book?

If we approached this rationally, that price would be a no brainer. A bargain, even. I’ve read single sentences that changed the trajectory of my business, relationships, health, creative journey, and life. Simple phrases that, put into action, were worth a thousand times the price of the book.

When we buy a big idea/advice book, we’re not paying for words, we’re paying for wisdom. We’re paying for the discovery of an idea or moment of awakening that holds the power to transform, not the fact that it takes eight hours to learn it. The faster we can discover and apply it, the better.

But, when it comes to buying books, we cannot divine a it’s worth, we cannot know if those breakout ideas and words exist until we’ve read it. Or, until other people we trust tell us it’s worth it. We look at recommendations, blurbs, etc. But, still, we tend to need more convincing to make the actual purchase.

So, our brains look for more obvious tells of value. One of those, irrational as it is, is heft. We believe heft translates to value. Or, maybe more importantly, a lack of heft signifies a lack of value.

How do we measure heft in the domain of books? You guessed it, size. Word and page count. It needs to be long enough to telegraph there’s a ton to be learned. It’s gotta make you believe there’s real value in it. When it comes to what we’re willing to pay for advice-centric books, size matters.

The logic goes, if a book was 80 pages, but cost $28, you’d be all “seriously? You’re charging that much money for a glorified pamphlet? How could something so short be worth that much?” At least, that’s been the conventional thinking. But as you’ll learn in a moment, that may an outmoded assumption.

Still, it’s what mainstream publishers work with. And they’ve come to believe that somewhere around 60,000 words, give or take 10,000 (that’s 240 pages, plus or minus 20), is the heft-induced, wallet-opening breakpoint. It’s where brute size elevates perceived value to a level that motivates enough people to pay the price needed to sell books at a price that keeps the traditional industry humming.

It’s why most advice book contracts require advice authors to deliver 60,000-80,000 words, not whatever it takes to do the idea justice. If you underdeliver, you’re very likely going to be asked to write more. And, in a fascinating twist, if you overdeliver, you’re also very likely going to be asked to edit it down to that 60-80k word count.

People run to value, but run from overwhelm.

Remember, too, I’m not talking about other genres. Fiction, textbooks, technical books, historical deep-dives, romance, memoirs, gift, arthouse, and collectible books, are entirely different beasties. If I’m reading a great novel or memoir, or dropping into a gorgeous book of photo essays, I want it to last forever. Because the act of reading it is the very thing I’m seeking to experience, not the impact of the insights applied after the fact.

Back to our original prompt.

If you’ve been that person reading a 240ish page book, wondering why it wasn’t a magazine feature (or it was, and didn’t need further exposition), or why it wasn’t half the length, you’re not bonkers. Many times, it could’ve been. The industry just believes it needs to be longer for them to survive. And, we all do want them to.

Enter, reality…

If this assumption was ever really true, is it still now?

With people desperately trying to claw back moments lost to pace, pressure, politics, hyper-connectivity, apps, uncertainty, anxiety, burnout, overwhelm, and media, we’re realizing how precious and fleeting time truly is.

Distillation, curation, synthesis, brevity, and concision are riding the value tide higher and higher.

People want to be in the know. They want to be exposed to ideas and stories that will help them live, work, play, and relate better. But, what they want even more, is their lives back.

I’d pay more for four hours of time back with people I cannot get enough of than I’d ever pay for additional words on the page of an idea-driven book that could’ve made it’s point in half the words, and time.

I’m not alone.

There’s a short-form indie/hybrid publishing storm a brewin’ that’s quietly shattering the assumptions and changing the paradigm!

A friend who had a very successful first book with a traditional publisher couldn’t sell their second book. Why? Said friend wanted it to be capped at about 20,000 words. They knew that’s all they needed to say everything that needed to be said. Publishers all said no. They loved the concept, but it had to be longer. My friend walked away, and published it themselves.

Because they were not constrained by industry-scale overhead, nor the revenue cap imposed by the traditional publishing’s royalties, they could make it a shorter read, charge a lower, yet still a reasonable price, and make it work. To date, they’re closing in on two million copies sold. At a much lower unit cost, and much higher author net. And the brevity has returned something on the order of 10-million hours back to readers’ lives to spend living what they learned, rather than learning how to live.

Examples like this reveal a fascinating opportunity. It’s not that people don’t want, or are unwilling to pay enough to support shorter books. They do, and are. Nor is it that authors can’t convey their ideas, insights and stories in a much more succinct way. Most can (even if it’s hard, speaking to myself here, oy!).

The problem is that tight, punchy, two-hour advice reads rarely ever see the light of day. Because, with few exceptions, the traditional entities in the middle, thick with complexity and overhead, can’t make it work.

Which is why, as I explore dropping into my next book length projects, I’m revisiting what a book needs to be. And whether the choices I’m making about the fundamental structure, format, design, and publication are in service of the broader industry, the ultimate consumer, or both.

I’m not arguing for the end of traditional publishing.

Nor am I saying there’s no place for them, or for longer books. I think there is a very real and important place for both. I’m probably one of the rare beings who the industry has been good to in many ways. And, I’m not saying I’m leaving that world behind.

For certain ideas, at certain moments, and with the right intention and craft, there is a reason to bring longer reads to life. These would include topics and ideas where the complexity requires nuanced and deep unpacking, along with many well chosen, beautifully told stories, case studies. At times, a fuller exposition is justified.

But, most times? Still not sold on that.

It’s about getting clear on who and what a book is for. It’s about how to best plant the seeds of an idea that hold the capacity to change lives, without the process of learning gobbling up more of those lives than necessary.

Why on earth am I writing this, here and now? On this Awake at the Wheel newsletter? Where it’s supposed to be all about ideas that help you feel more alive and less alone? Well, because, as I shared in my last post, it’s been on my mind. And, it’s time I started sharing more of what’s spinning in my head, beyond the narrow scope of personal growth.

But, also, this touches, in a very direct way, on how we learn and live and spend our times, days, and lives.

I’m guessing I’m not the only one who has wondered why certain books weren’t articles, or short-form books, including some of those written by…me! #GAH

Also, because nearly everyone I know wants to write a book. So they can wake up their lives, feel more fully expressed, share their unique lens, taste, and narrative, and hopefully help others feel more alive along the way. And nearly everyone I know reads or listens to books, at least in part, to learn new things that’ll help them live better lives (yes, still. Go figure).

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for us readers and writers, and also our friendly, forward-thinking publishers, to test old assumptions and do some reimagining. Maybe it’s time to re-examine the what and why and form and shape of the book or books we feel so strongly compelled to bring into existence, support, and consume. And, along the way, maybe it’s time to free ourselves from the trappings of a convention that may no longer be serving us any of us on the level it could be.

What if we, as writers and publishers, spent less time saying what we needed to say, and more time giving those we seek to serve a fuller Slurpy cup of their lives back to actually do the work, feel the change, and come more fully alive?

And, yes, I’m painfully aware of how damn long I just took to share this diatribe. And, how every traditionally published book I’ve written to date was 60,000 words, give or take 10,000. But, I’m also aware of the fact that the single most important book I’ve written, and may ever write, took four years to craft 18,908 words, was published by me, and has a single copy in print. That’s all it took to say what I needed to say.

So, as I look forward to my next season of book writing, I’m owning my own need to focus the spotlight on how I show up as a writer and author as well. Still very much a work in progress.

Readers, writers, publishers, chime in. What’s your take?

Do tell…