A listing description can be long if the house gives you enough useful things to say. The problem starts when every sentence feels like work.
I was teaching a listing-marketing class when someone asked me when public remarks become too long. I gave what felt like a very unhelpful answer at the time: I don’t think length is the best way to measure it.
I’ve read descriptions for expensive properties with a cove, guest house, outdoor kitchen, acreage and several spaces that genuinely needed explaining. Those descriptions had a reason to be longer. I’ve also read 150 words about a perfectly normal living room that somehow required me to fight through “beautifully designed,” “modern style,” “everyday convenience,” “true standout,” “prime location” and “appealing package” before I learned anything useful.
That’s when I use my peanut-butter test.
Read the listing description out loud
When you’re finished writing public remarks, say them.
Out loud.
If you feel like you’re trudging through mud or trying to speak with peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, rewrite them.
Long compound sentences are one culprit. Adjective piles are another. A house can only be “stunning,” “gorgeous,” “inviting,” “sleek” and “luxurious” for so long before those words stop helping a buyer picture anything.
I especially notice this with AI-written descriptions because the sentences can be grammatically fine while still sounding like nobody has ever stood in the house. “Modern style meets everyday convenience” could describe a townhouse in Tennessee, a condo in Florida or a toaster oven. It doesn’t tell me why this particular property deserves a showing.
The read-aloud test catches that quickly. Your mouth notices awkward writing before your editing brain does.
A good description should sound like something a knowledgeable person could naturally say while walking someone through the property. That doesn’t mean casual to the point of sloppy. It means the sentences should move. The details should earn their place. You shouldn’t need a thesaurus to make a laundry room sound exciting.
Use the words for what the photos cannot do
The MLS already contains a lot of facts. Bedrooms. Bathrooms. Square footage. Lot size. Property type. Photos cover another layer of information.
Your description has limited attention available, so I want those words doing a job the other fields aren’t already doing.
Maybe all of the bedrooms are upstairs. That matters to the person who needs a main-level bedroom, and I would rather they know before scheduling a showing. Maybe the kitchen and living room connect in a way that makes the house feel much more open than the photos suggest. Maybe there’s separation between the living space and bedrooms that gives guests some privacy. Maybe a beautiful lake property has several distinct outdoor spaces that need context before the photo sequence makes sense.
Those are useful sentences.
A maintenance history can be useful too, but it may belong somewhere else. If the seller replaced the water heater in 2013, the roof in 2016, several windows in 2019 and six other things after that, I don’t necessarily want to turn the public remarks into a chronological home-improvement receipt. Depending on the MLS rules where you’re listing, some of that information may be better presented in supporting documents or another appropriate field.
The description can carry the experience of the house while the rest of the listing carries the documentation.
Let a normal room be a normal room
There is nothing wrong with a nice living room being a nice living room.
We get ourselves into trouble when we decide every property feature needs to become an emotional event. Suddenly a backyard is an oasis. A countertop is a culinary masterpiece. A hallway is thoughtfully appointed. The refrigerator isn’t included; it’s “ready for move-in ease.”
At some point the language becomes bigger than the house.
That hurts the description because the buyer still needs the useful information buried underneath it. If the townhome gives someone more space than an apartment with less upkeep than a detached house, say that. If the bedrooms being upstairs creates separation from the main living area, say that. If the washer and dryer stay, say that.
Specificity is usually more persuasive than another adjective.
I want the public remarks to make the person who would genuinely like the house more interested in seeing it. I also want someone with an obvious deal-breaker to understand that before everybody wastes a showing.
So I don’t have a magic character count for when an MLS description becomes too long. Your MLS may have a technical limit, and local rules always control what can go in the field. Editorially, I care more about whether the description still deserves the reader’s attention.
Read it out loud.
If your tongue gets tired before you reach the end, you’ve got editing to do.
Related reading: Before You Post a Listing, Decide What You’re Selling.
