Many times, I’m asked how long a chapter should be in a novel. Today seems like a good day to discuss this rather subjective topic.
Personally, I try to consider my readers’ comfort. I’m like many other readers. Once I begin reading a chapter, I want to finish it before I have to put the book down.
In my opinion, nothing is better than a long winter’s weekend spent sitting on the sofa in my comfy jammies, reading a book I’ve waited more than a year for.
However, life is hectic, and most of us rarely have the opportunity to sit and read all day, no matter how much we wish we could.
Having said all that, each author must decide what their style is based on their own reading preferences. This opinion might change as a writer’s career progresses, and it may not.
I’ve read and enjoyed many books where the authors made each scene a chapter. I barely noticed that detail because:
- Their transitions were smooth.
- The pacing was flawless.
- The story was engaging.
Some well-known authors limit their chapter length. One suggested 1500, while another has said not more than 2500.
One of my favorite authors sometimes has chapters of only five or six hundred words, which keeps each character’s storyline separate and flows well. For my storytelling style, 1,500 to 2,500 words is a good length. This allows a reader to take a break for whatever reason, and if the hook I ended the chapter on is good, they will return as soon as possible.
I feel that each chapter should detail the events of one scene or several closely related scenes. I see chapters the way I do paragraphs. Cramming widely different events into one place throws off the pacing. It makes the narrative feel erratic and disconnected.
Some books require longer sections. This is true of my novel, Julian Lackland. The overall story arc is comprised of short stories that detail important events in chronological order.
So, what is a transition?
Transitions move us from one scene to the next. They offer a chance to convey necessary information in just a few words.
Soft transitions: Brief conversations make good transitions to propel us to the next scene. They also offer ways to end a chapter with a tidbit of information that will compel the reader to turn the page. Information is crucial, so we want to provide it when the protagonist and the reader require it.
Hard transitions: This chapter is over. A new chapter begins.
Sometimes, a hard transition consists of a hashtag or extra space between closely related scenes. This is useful in a short story or when small incidents combine to form a larger crucial event that should be covered in one chapter.
When the next chapter opens, the protagonist steps into an opening paragraph that leads into the next action sequence. We find out who and what new misery is waiting for him on the other side of that door.
I use fade-to-black transitions only to finish certain kinds of events. I haven’t written smut in years, and don’t see a reason to start now. So, I use that literary device when two characters are romantically involved.
Consider the passage of time. When a real chunk of time has passed between the end of one event and the beginning of the next, end the chapter and give it a firm finish with a hook. Good hooks encourage the reader to keep turning the pages.
With each scene, we push all the main characters forward and raise the stakes a little more. Action and information keep the reader engaged. Good transitions are crucial to pacing. They let the reader reflect and absorb what they’ve learned before moving on to the next scene.
This brings me to how the narrative point of view can influence the length of a scene or chapter. Some editors suggest you change chapters, no matter how short, when you switch to a different character’s point of view.
I agree with this stance, as a hard transition when you switch narrator-characters is the best way to avoid head-hopping and subsequent confusion.
But what is head-hopping? When you change the narrative point of view in the same scene, one paragraph to the next, with no definite separation, you create a “viewpoint tennis match.”
First, you’re in Character A’s head hearing her thoughts, then you’re in Character B’s head hearing his. Then you’re back in A’s head. It becomes challenging to know who is speaking or thinking. The characters tend to lose their individuality and begin to sound the same.
However, sometimes it is okay to switch narrator-viewpoint within a chapter. Some events require showing more than one character’s perspective. However, be careful how you handle the narrator change. Use a hard break, such as an asterisk between the paragraphs where the switch is made.
Between the larger scenes and within the chapter, we might include bookend scenes as a soft transition. These will only be a paragraph long, a few words exchanged between characters as they progress to the next event, or even a mention of the world through the protagonist’s eyes. These scenes are short but should reveal something and push the story toward the unknown.
Bookend scenes lay the groundwork for what comes next.
The short transition from scene to scene does the heavy lifting when it comes to conveying information. It is the best opportunity for clues about the characters and their history to emerge without an info dump.
You may be wondering: should I use numbers, or give each chapter a title?
If snappy titles pop up in your mind for each chapter, by all means, go for it. Otherwise, numbered chapters are perfectly fine. Whichever style of chapter heading you choose, be consistent and stay with that choice for the entire book.
I try to end my chapters at a logical place with a hook that entices the reader to continue reading. Sometimes I am successful at that. Other times it’s hard to think of a good hook.
But each narrative has logical places where chapters should begin and end. You, as the author, get to choose what those places are. The length of your chapters is up to you.
Directors will tell you they focus the scenery (set dressing) so it frames the action. The composition of props in that scene is finely focused world-building, and it draws the viewer’s attention to the subtext the director wants to convey.
As I work my way through revisions, I struggle to find the right set dressing to underscore the drama. Each item mentioned in the scene must emphasize the characters’ moods and the overall atmosphere of that part of the story.
The opening paragraph of a chapter and the ending paragraph are miniature scenes that bookend the central action scene. They are doors that lead us into the event and guide us on to the next hurdle the character must overcome.
When the next chapter opens, he steps into an opening paragraph that leads into the next action sequence. We find out who and what new misery is waiting for him on the other side of that door.
When you begin making revisions, take a look at the opening paragraph of each chapter. Ask yourself how it could be rewritten to convey information and lead the reader into the action. Then, look at the final paragraph and ask yourself the same question.
But the scenes themselves are pictures within the larger picture of the story arc. Think of the story arc as a blank wall. We place the scenes on that blank wall in the order we want them, but without transition scenes, these moments in time appear random, as if they don’t go together.
Our bookend scenes are not empty words. They should reveal something and push us toward something unknown. They lay the groundwork for what comes next.
One of my favorite authors sometimes has chapters of only five or six hundred words, keeping each character thread separate and flowing well. A hard scene break with a new chapter is my preferred way to end a nice, satisfying fade-to-black.
The second draft is where the real work begins. I set the first draft aside for several weeks and then go back to it. I look at my outline to make sure the events fall in the proper order. At that point, I can see how to write the transitions to ensure each scene flows naturally into the next.
As a reader, books work best for me when each chapter details the events of one large scene or several related events. I think of chapters as if they were paragraphs. Paragraphs are not just short blocks of randomly assembled sentences.
I’ve mentioned before that one of the complaints some readers have with 
Short stories run up to 7,000 words, with under 4,000 being the most commonly requested length. 7,500–17,500 is the expected length for novelettes, and between 17,500 and 40,000 words are the standard length for novellas.
In my work, the first draft is really more of an expanded outline, a series of scenes that have characters doing things. But those scenes need to be connected so each flows naturally into the next without jarring the reader out of the narrative.
We are always told, “Don’t waste words on empty scenes.” I find this part of the revision process the most difficult. Frankly, I have a million words at my disposal, and wasting them is my best skill.
If you ask a reader what makes a memorable story, they will tell you that the emotions it evoked are why they loved that novel. They were allowed to process the events, given a moment of rest and reflection between the action. Our characters can take a moment to think, but while doing so, they must be transitioning to the next scene.
Visual Cues: In my own work, when I come across the word “smile” or other words conveying a facial expression or character’s mood, it sometimes requires a complete re-visualization of the scene. I’m forced to look for a different way to express my intention, which is a necessary but frustrating aspect of the craft.
Code words are the author’s first draft 
Thought (Introspection):
That is true of every aspect of a scene—it must reveal something we didn’t know and push the story forward toward something we can’t quite see.
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