
I finally found my people. At least I thought I did.
You know the feeling. You’re at a social get-together, someone mentions a book, and suddenly you’ve found your new social circle. They read the same genres. They’ve read the same authors. They understand the appeal of shadow daddies, masked men, and intense violet eyes.
We have things to discuss.
Then someone asks the dreaded question: “So, how many books have you read this year?”
“Well…” I pause. “Define read.”
Because sure, we could get into the whole does an audiobook count? debate. But my answer gets a little more complicated than that.
“Are we counting novels? Novellas? Novelettes? Short stories?”
“Novelette?” someone asks.
“Yes.”
“What’s that? A novel with a French accent?”
Honestly, fair question.
So I start explaining. I’m a reader, but I’m also an author, which means I think about books in word counts, not page counts. A 50,000-word book is a 50,000-word book, whether the pages are tiny, huge, double-spaced, or printed in 47-point font for people who forgot their glasses.
Except everyone else is thinking in terms of pages and they stare at me when I mention word count.
So I try to explain how the number of words translates into book length. That there’s about 200 to 300 words on a typical page. Then I do the math in my head. I’m a pharmacist. Math is easy.
But still, by the time I get to, “Well, a novella is generally between 85 and 200 pages,” they’ve moved on to talking about sourdough starters.
Mine is named Edgar Allen Dough, by the way.
So let’s clear this up, once and for all, so I never have to do long division at a party again.
What’s the actual difference between a novel, novella, novelette, short story, and flash fiction? How long is each one? And, perhaps more importantly, does reading a novella or novelette actually count as reading a book?
I’ll give you the definitions. You can tell me what you think.
Flash Fiction: The Snapshot
Flash fiction usually clocks in under 1,000 words. Some go even shorter, down to 100 words or less, which is basically writing a story on a napkin. There’s a legend that Ernest Hemingway once wrote an entire six-word story on a napkin: For sale: baby shoes. Never worn. Six words. An entire gut-punch of a story. I still think about it more than some 400-page novels I’ve read.
So, how many pages is a piece of flash fiction? Answer: five or less.
Here’s the thing about flash fiction: it’s not really a story in the traditional sense. It’s a snapshot. A single moment, frozen and turned over in your hands. You get one image, one gut-punch, one flash of insight, and then it’s gone.
Think of it like a photograph instead of a movie. You don’t get a beginning, middle, and end so much as you get a single frame that implies all three. A woman standing in a doorway with a suitcase. A father reading a letter he’s already memorized. The story lives in what’s not said.
I respect flash fiction enormously as a craft. Writing something complete in 500 words is genuinely harder than writing 500 pages, because you need to do a lot with a little. But as a reader, I’ll be honest: I usually want more. Flash fiction is the sample size at the ice cream shop. Delicious. Over too fast.
Usually, these get posted individually online or gathered into a collection with its own cover. So when your friends ask how many books you’ve read this year, you do what you want, but here’s my two cents: one single piece of flash fiction doesn’t count as a book. A whole collection in book format, with its own cover? That one counts.
Short Stories: The Full Arc, Just Tight
Short stories run from about 1,000 to 7,500 words, which lands somewhere between five and forty pages. This is where things start feeling like actual stories, with a beginning, a complication, and an ending.
A good short story writer has to be efficient. There’s no room for a slow burn spanning three hundred pages. Every sentence has to pull weight. You get a full, gut-wrenching arc, but you get there fast with no fluff.
Short stories can absolutely wreck you. They just do it efficiently.
Again, these typically show up the same way flash fiction does: posted online, especially in digital magazines, gathered into a single-author collection, or tucked into one of my favorite formats, a multi-author anthology. My opinion, which you’re absolutely welcome to argue with, is that one story on its own doesn’t count as its own book. But I do have a few pieces that run up to about six connected chapters, bundled together with a cover of their own, and I’ll let you slide on counting those. 😉
Novelettes: The Sweet Spot Nobody Talks About
Here’s where I need you to lean in, because novelettes are the most underrated length in all of fiction, and I will die on this hill.
A novelette runs between 7,500 and 17,500 words, which is probably about 35 to 85 pages. That’s the official definition, straight from award organizations like the Hugos and Nebulas, which actually have a whole category just for novelette length. Most casual readers have never heard the word. Ask someone what a novelette is and you’ll get a blank stare, maybe a guess that it’s a fancy word for novella, or, if you’re at my party, a guess that it involves a French accent.
It’s not, and it doesn’t. A novelette is its own thing, and honestly, it might be the perfect length. You get real character development. Actual stakes that build instead of just existing. Room for a subplot or two, a slow burn if the story wants one, maybe a red herring if it’s a mystery. But you’re still finishing the whole thing in an hour or two, which means you get a complete, satisfying arc without giving up your entire weekend.
If flash fiction is a photograph and a short story is an Instagram reel, a novelette is a really good short film. Long enough to actually feel something. Short enough that you’re not checking your watch.
That is as long as the author doesn’t just think this length is an excuse to write a completely unresolved cliffhanger. I don’t like cliffhangers. Period. Drives me nuts. But that’s a topic for a whole other blog post.
Usually these are published individually, or in a multi-author collection. My take: if it’s published alone with its own cover, count it as a book, even if it only takes you an hour to read. Enjoy the boost to your year-end reading stats. This is the one you casually mention at the party without clarifying further.
Novellas: The Complete Meal, Just Smaller Portions
Novellas run from about 17,500 to 40,000 words, or roughly 85 to 200 pages. This is the length everyone’s at least vaguely heard of, thanks to books like Of Mice and Men, The Christmas Carol, Animal Farm, or The Old Man and the Sea, which are novellas whether your high school English teacher clarified that or not.
The novel vs. novella difference isn’t about quality. It’s about scope. A novel often juggles multiple storylines, a big cast, maybe years of time passing. A novella tells one story, cleanly, without the detours. You get a full narrative arc, real depth, characters you actually care about, a side-storyo r two, and you can still finish the whole thing in one long sitting or two shorter ones.
Novella length is basically the goldilocks zone (ahem: “just right”). Long enough to be a whole book. Short enough that “I’ll just finish this tonight” is a realistic plan instead of wishful thinking.
Yes. Yes! YES! These count as books. Count them, no asterisk, no hedging. They can be 200 pages, take two hours to read, and still leave you feeling like you actually got to know the characters and the world. Usually you’ll find these published individually on Amazon, though sometimes they show up in a collection too.
Novels: The One You Already Know
A novel runs 40,000 words or more, which is 200-plus pages, and takes at least three hours to read, though plenty run far longer than that. This is the size we all default to when someone says “book,” the one with room for multiple POVs, a sprawling cast, a subplot about someone’s estranged sibling, and enough time passing that characters have actual arcs across years, not just an afternoon.
There’s nothing wrong with a novel. I write them too. But it is the one length that never needs defending at a party. Nobody’s ever asked me if a 90,000-word book “counts.” Only the short stuff gets interrogated, which, frankly, feels a little unfair to the novelette.
And another thing about Novels. Sometimes, I don’t like all the details. I want the story, but don’t need two paragraphs describing the particular shade of the hero’s eye color or the quirky way he smiles. Give me one well written line and move on. Geesh.
Why Any of This Matters
So back to that party, and that question I still don’t have a fast answer for.
“How many books have you read this year?”
Knowing these definitions isn’t just so you can win that argument at book club, or stall for time while you do word count math in your head like it’s a pharmacy shift. It changes how you shop for your next read, and it changes what you get to count when someone asks you that dreaded question.
Craving a quick gut-punch on your lunch break? Look for flash fiction or a short story. Want a complete, satisfying story you can finish in an evening but still feel like you actually went somewhere? A novelette is calling your name, and yes, it counts. Want something with real depth, a story that unfolds a little more slowly, but still doable in a weekend? Grab a novella, and count that one twice in your head if you want, I won’t tell anyone.
None of these are “less than” a novel. They’re just built differently, the way a short film isn’t a failed feature and a single isn’t a failed album. Each length does something the others can’t.
So next time someone hands you a 90-page book and calls it “not a real book,” you now have the right to argue. It has a name. It has a word count. It has an actual award category at the Hugos. And honestly? It might be exactly the length you needed all along.
Here’s a handy little guide, so you never have to do the math at a party:
| Story Type | Word Count | Approximate Page Count | Approximate Reading Time |
| Novel | 40,000+ words | 200+ pages | 3+ hours |
| Novella | 17,500–40,000 words | 85–200 pages | 1.5–3 hours |
| Novelette | 7,500–17,500 words | 35–85 pages | 30 min–1.5 hours |
| Short Story | 1,000–7,500 words | 5–40 pages | 5–30 minutes |
| Flash Fiction | Under 1,000 words | 5 pages or less | 5 minutes or less |
One more practical tip while we’re here. Amazon actually has a Short Reads category, and it breaks books down by reading time: 15, 30, 45, 60, 90, and 120-plus minutes. In my experience, anything filed under 15 minutes tends to be placeholder content or click-and-purchase bait, with a few exceptions. The 30-minute titles are hit or miss. But anything labeled 45 or 60 minutes is almost always the novelette length we just talked about, and the 90-minute to 2-hour titles are your novellas. For short stories specifically, there are better places to find them than Amazon, but for novelettes and novellas, that reading-time filter is genuinely useful. Especially if you have Kindle Unlimited or utilize the “Free” tab to get started with new authors. Many others are priced low, like 99 cents, and that’s a buck well spent.
Here’s my plug, now that you’ve survived the vocabulary lesson I couldn’t finish at that party before everyone wandered off toward the sourdough conversation: I write a lot of these myself, novelettes and novellas mostly, and they all live in something I call the Wet Dog Reading Room, free to read a full month before they ever hit Amazon. You can check out what’s available now, or sign up to get an email every time I release a new one, right here: linktr.ee/wetdogpressauthor
So. How many books have you read this year? And did you include shorter works into your number?
Take your time answering. I’ll wait. I still haven’t figured out my own number either.
72 and a few novellas are included in my total.
That’s a very respectable number, even if they all were novellas!