Authors often worry about how to find new readers, yet one of the largest overlooked markets is sitting right in front of us. While women are driving the modern fiction industry, fueling viral online communities, and burning through books at impressive speed, male readers are quietly walking away. Instead, many are choosing entertainment that offers a faster payoff, such as movies, video games, or more hands-on hobbies.

In today’s blog, Ginger examines why male readership is shrinking and how the ever-growing length of contemporary fiction might be partly to blame. With books becoming longer and more demanding to finish, many men are simply unwilling to invest weeks into a single title. The answer may be shorter, punchier stories and serialized fiction that respect a reader’s time while still delivering a complete and satisfying experience. If modern novels are pushing men out, writing stories men can actually finish may be one of the smartest strategies an author can explore.

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There’s a crisis in publishing that nobody wants to talk about. 

Men have stopped reading fiction.

The National Endowment for the Arts reported that as of 2022, only about 27% of men had read a novel or short story in the previous year, compared to nearly half of all women.

And it’s a problem that’s getting worse. Deloitte Insights predicts that men and boys will continue to spend less time reading than women globally and The Guardian confirmed that while men are frequent readers of news and non-fiction, their engagement with fiction has dropped significantly compared to women.

While women devour books—sometimes finishing one per day on their Kindle, discussing them in massive online communities, and turning series like A Court of Thorns and Roses into cultural phenomena—men are largely absent from the reading landscape. The statistics are stark, and the cultural implications are significant.

But what if the problem isn’t that men don’t want to read? What if we’ve simply been offering them the wrong product?

In a podcast Craig and I recorded in August, we discussed this possibility with award-winning author Terrance Layhew, and potentially came up with a solution. But this week, I wanted to delve more deeply into the phenomenon and see if our bright idea might actually be actionable. 

The Length Problem

One of the first things Craig, Terrance, and I identified as a turnoff to potential male readers was the amount of time you have to invest to read and finish a book. Today’s novels have ballooned in size. A standard contemporary novel runs 80,000 to 120,000 words. Fantasy and thriller series regularly exceed 150,000 words per book. For a casual reader, that’s a six-week commitment (or more!)

For those of us juggling careers, families, and limited leisure time, that’s not just daunting, it’s a non-starter.

Think about the average man’s reading reality. Hell, don’t even think about the average man, think about me! I have three kids and a demanding career trying to work full-time as a self-published author. While I read voraciously as I do research for my own books and try to help other self-published authors find success, I don’t often have the luxury of reading for pleasure, and it’s something I really miss. 

But when I do have free time, I’ve got a choice to make. I could invest weeks into reading a thick novel, or do something with a more immediate payoff, such as watch a movie, play a video game, or work on a hobby project. I’m ashamed to say I pick the easier option more often than I’d like, and I don’t think I’m alone. The math simply doesn’t work in reading’s favor.

Compare this to the golden age of men’s fiction—the 1950s through 1970s—when paperbacks were compact, portable, and designed to be finished. Original James Bond novels ran about 40,000 words. Mickey Spillane’s hard-boiled detective stories were similarly brief. You could slip one in your pocket, read it on your lunch break, finish it over a weekend, and move on to the next adventure.

Those books weren’t asking for a relationship. They were offering an experience.

The Tactile Experience Matters

Here’s another uncomfortable truth for the digital age. Many men don’t like reading on Kindles. Start.io reports that Kindle readership tends to skew female by a few percentage points, which might not seem significant until you remember that early tech adoption is usually heavily skewed towards men. 

Yes, e-readers are convenient. Yes, they’re practical for travel and building large libraries. But in our overly digitized world, there’s something uniquely satisfying about holding a physical book. Especially one that doesn’t feel like a commitment or a burden.

A slim, well-made paperback offers something a Kindle can’t: a tangible experience. You can feel its weight, smell the paper, and appreciate the cover design. When you finish it, you can loan it to a friend, put it on your shelf as a badge of completion, or take it to a book event and get it signed.

There’s a reason vinyl records have made a comeback among music lovers. The same principle applies to books. In an age where everything is ephemeral and digital, physical objects carry weight. Both literally and metaphorically.

(They also can’t distract you with notifications and messages from a million other apps.)

In our podcast with Terrance, he told us about recently publishing Unwanted Passenger, a 15,000-word aviation novella that’s selling at a 50/50 split between digital and paperback, which is surprising for such a short book. For fiction aimed towards women, that split would be much heavier toward the Kindle version. 

But part of that is because the paperback of Terrance’s book is beautifully produced, and feels substantial despite its brevity. More than that, it costs just $9.99. That’s significantly less than the price you’d pay for one of the phonebook-scale romantasies that are topping the charts these days.

(Does anybody still use phonebooks these days?)

The price point is more significant than people might think. It’s less than a six-pack of decent beer, and provides the same value in the form of an afternoon of entertainment (minus the hangover, and plus something to keep and display after you’re finished with it.)

The production quality matters too. It doesn’t feel like a cheap, disposable product. Terrance’s book is beautifully printed and presented and feels like an experience you’re buying into, one that respects both the reader’s time and their investment.

The Investment Equation

That sense of investment is important. Men tend to be more risk-averse with their reading choices than women. While many female readers will happily explore new authors and take chances on unfamiliar series, men often stick to known quantities (like Jack Carr, Lee Child, Tom Clancy, or James Patterson).

There’s a practical reason for this conservatism: the investment required.

If you’re going to spend six weeks reading a book, you want to know it’s going to be good. You don’t have time to waste on something that disappoints. So men default to established authors they trust, which makes it nearly impossible for new authors to break through.

Shorter books change this equation entirely.

A 15,000 to 30,000-word novella—something that takes 90 minutes to two hours to read—is a low-risk proposition. At $9.99, it costs less than a movie ticket and takes roughly the same amount of time to consume. If it’s not great, you haven’t lost much. If it’s fantastic, you’ve discovered a new author whose backlist you can explore.

This creates a feasible entry point for new authors to reach male readers. Instead of asking for a six-week commitment to an unknown writer, you’re asking for an afternoon. That’s a much easier sell.

The Serialization Advantage

Here’s where shorter fiction becomes truly powerful: serialization.

Think about how The Count of Monte Cristo was originally consumed in small installments over time. Think about how comic books work, or how old-time radio dramas kept audiences coming back week after week. Serialization is deeply embedded in how we enjoy stories.

With a series of shorter books featuring a strong, recurring character, readers get:

• Manageable chunks of story they can actually finish
• Regular dopamine hits from completing books
• Anticipation for the next installment
• A sense of progression through a larger narrative
• Lower commitment per individual book

For authors, this model offers incredible advantages. Instead of spending two years writing one massive novel that readers might bounce off, you can write three or four shorter works that give readers multiple entry points into your world.

Each book becomes a trial offer for the series. And because they’re shorter, you can produce them more regularly, keeping readers engaged and building momentum.

Building Community Around Shared Stories

One of the most underappreciated aspects of reading is its social dimension. Books aren’t just individual experiences, they’re passports into communities.

Women understand this instinctively. They discuss books in reading groups, online forums, and social media. They bond over shared reading experiences. The book becomes a point of connection. There’s a whole BookTok community that has its own language and has the potential to turn self-published authors into overnight bestsellers.

Men crave this too, but they face a practical problem: If it takes six weeks to read a book, coordinating a reading schedule with friends becomes nearly impossible. Everyone’s reading at different paces, in different stages of the story. By the time you finish, your buddy has moved on to something else.

Shorter books solve this problem beautifully.

When a book takes an afternoon or a weekend to read, it’s actually feasible for a group of friends to read it simultaneously and discuss it. You can recommend it to your buddy on Monday and be talking about it by Friday. This creates the social cohesion around reading that men are missing but desperately want.

This is why the James Bond bookclub I was a part of was so successful: Ian Fleming’s books tended to be deliciously short and readable. 

Several publishers are already recognizing this and building communities around men’s adventure fiction—creating podcasts, Discord servers, and Facebook groups where readers can connect over shared stories. The shorter format makes this community building more accessible.

The Commercial Model

Let’s talk about the business case for authors considering this approach.

Yes, you’re selling a shorter book for a lower price point. But consider the advantages:

1. Faster production: A 15,000 to 30,000-word novella takes a fraction of the time to write compared to a 100,000-word novel. You can produce three or four in the time it would take to write one traditional novel.
2. Lower reader resistance: The price point and time commitment make impulse purchases more likely. At $9.99, buyers don’t deliberate for weeks, they just buy it.
3. Series potential: Rather than betting everything on one massive book, you’re creating a series of smaller bets. If the first one connects, readers will buy the entire series.
4. Multiple format opportunities: Shorter works are perfect for audiobook dramatizations with sound effects and music. They’re easier to adapt for film or TV. They’re ideal for direct-to-consumer subscription models where readers receive a new installment monthly.
5. Backlist leverage: Once you have ten or fifteen short books in a series, late-arriving readers have a substantial catalog to explore—all at a palatable price point and time commitment per book.

The MAYA Principle

There’s a concept in marketing called MAYA: Most Advanced Yet Acceptable. It refers to finding the sweet spot between familiarity and novelty.

When writing shorter men’s fiction, this principle is crucial. Your work needs to feel familiar enough that readers recognize what it is (adventure fiction, detective stories, military thrillers) while offering just enough difference to feel fresh and valuable.

“It’s like James Bond, but he’s an airmail pilot in the 1920s.”

“It’s like Die Hard, but on a submarine.”

“It’s Jack Reacher meets The Gray.”

These comparisons work because they give readers a reference point while promising something new. And the shorter format allows you to deliver on that promise without requiring readers to commit to an epic saga before they know if they like your take on the genre.

The Character Is King

If you’re going to write serialized short fiction, everything hinges on creating a compelling central character.

Think about why certain characters endure: Sherlock Holmes, James Bond, Jack Reacher, Harry Bosch. These characters are so vivid and consistent that readers want to spend time with them regardless of the specific plot. The character becomes the brand.

This is even more critical in shorter fiction because you don’t have 100,000 words to develop complex secondary characters and intricate subplots. You need a protagonist who can carry the story through sheer force of personality and capability.

It’s why Terrance’s books are marketed as “A Mitch Mayhew Story”. Readers grab each new installment wanting to catch up with a familiar friend. 

Men respond powerfully to these archetypal heroes. They want to spend time with competent, capable characters who face challenges and overcome them through skill, determination, and sometimes violence.

Your character doesn’t need to be complex in a literary sense. They need to be consistent and compelling. Readers should be able to picture exactly how this character would handle any situation. That consistency across multiple short works builds familiarity and trust.

Jack Reacher is the perfect example of this, and why Lee Child’s titular character has ploughed his way through 25 stories and counties.

The Path Forward

So what does this mean for you as an author?

If you’re writing for male readers—or trying to reach an underserved market—consider experimenting with shorter formats. Not flash fiction or short stories, but substantial novellas in the 15,000 to 40,000-word range.

Focus on:

• Strong, memorable protagonists who can anchor a series
• High-concept premises that work with the MAYA principle
• Clean, efficient storytelling without unnecessary padding
• Physical production quality that makes the book feel like an experience
• Series thinking from the start: plan for multiple installments
• Genre positioning that helps readers immediately understand what they’re getting

Price them reasonably. Under $10 for paperback, under $5 for digital. Make them impulse buys rather than considered purchases.

And most importantly, make them finishable. In a world where men are reading less and less fiction, the most revolutionary thing you can do is give them something they can actually complete.

Conclusion

The publishing industry has spent decades optimizing for female readers with longer books, emotional depth, and series that span thousands of pages. That’s been commercially successful, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

But in the process, we’ve left an entire gender behind.

Men haven’t stopped wanting stories. They’ve stopped being able to fit traditional novels into their lives. The books have gotten too long, too demanding, and too divorced from the physical, tactile experience that many men crave.

Shorter, well-made paperbacks offer a solution. They respect the reader’s time. They provide a complete experience in a manageable package. They create opportunities for social connection around shared stories. And they offer authors a sustainable model for building a career around serialized fiction.

The market is there. Men want to read. They’re just waiting for someone to give them books that fit their lives.

Maybe it’s time we did.

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