When writing a novel, how can a character be developed well, but QUICKLY?

“Damn straight. So get to it! This time next week, I want to hear some moans coming through that wall.”

“Nope, I mean a cat followed me home. A black cat, to be exact. All the way from the club. Probably still out there, for all I know.”

Create a context between this character and other characters.

Why are some people afraid of monsters?

“Well, maybe if you’d wear more clothes, they wouldn’t feel so cold. Hussy!”

“It’s not looking at you.”

“Claire, I—”

Do you have any attributes quirks sensitivities abilities etc that you've come to learn most people don't experience? E.g. dream with subtext or experience de ja vu regularly or know you experience life very differently from those around you etc?

“I don’t know. Partying. Going to a pub. Anything besides sitting on the couch reading…” She squinted. “What the hell are you reading?”

Doing something they enjoy, that expresses their personality, and that is in some way unusual or noteworthy;

“They are! He broke the rules of the boarding house by petting this character while she was in cat form, so they invoke the ancient rules of single combat via ping-pong, and—”

How would you feel if your friend confided in you that she is cheating on her husband, knowing that he loves her deeply? What emotional and ethical considerations would you grapple with in response to her revelation?

After Eunice and I finished London Under Veil, I entered the first chapter in a contest at a convention where you could submit something and have it critiqued by a professional book agent.

“I’m glad my sex life is so entertaining.”

“I’m just a fan of your catch and release program.”

Why does it matter so much to atheists that God doesn't exist?

“Why is that always your first suggestion? I do not need some tea. It’s three o’clock in the morning! If I have tea, I’ll never get to sleep.”

In the kitchen, Claire set out a battered pair of mugs: May’s black, with “PEBKAC: Problem Exists Between Keyboard and Chair” in white letters; Claire’s white, with “This must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays” in dark blue. She carried both mugs into the living room. “A moggie followed you home? Is this some weird Internet slang I’m not current on?”

“Exactly.”

What is every dictators biggest fear?

“Claire! Why are you still up?”

“Number one, it’s not porn, it’s ecchi, and number two, why would I waste a perfectly good Saturday doing anything else?” Claire pulled at her tea and sighed. “The only thing that could make this day better is if you'd come home with some cute boy, so that after you kicked him out tomorrow I could live vicariously through you.”

“Exactly.”

Why do atheists love to preach against Abrahamic religions and mock God? Even if they do not fear the eternal fire of hell, pious Muslims will certainly not leave them alone and will take brutal revenge until they surrender and repent of their sins.

“I need to do laundry.”

“None of those either. Look upon the wasteland that is my sex life, and see that it is barren. Naught but a moggie followed me home.”

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

What would have happened if Shin was a good movie instead of a bad one?

“Yep!” Claire chirped. “There’s this schoolboy, see, and he’s homeless, so he lives in this boarding house that used to be a hot springs bathhouse, which is cheap because it’s haunted, so he decides—”

They both burst out laughing. “I’m right, though,” Claire went on.

“Yuuna and the Haunted Hot Springs!” Claire turned the book around.

— we are metamorphosing!

“Fine.” May collapsed into the warm spot Claire had just vacated.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t spend all day reading—” May prodded the book with its garishly-coloured cover with her foot. “Bizarre comic book porn…”

“Perv.”

I refuse to date any women that are social media influencers, content creators, TikTok celebrities, and use Only fans. Would this be seen as normal, or would I be going too far? Why?

“No way.”

Here’s how we presented the character Claire when she was introduced, which the agent particularly singled out:

“You don’t need a cat. You can’t take care of a cat. You can’t take care of a ficus.” Claire flopped on the other side of the sofa and wriggled her feet beneath May.

Why do flat Earthers run away like whipped dogs with their tails between their legs when asked simple questions that expose their delusions as fantasy?

“So you didn’t meet any cute boys at the club tonight?” Claire called as she bustled about the small kitchen.

“I try not to, but thank you for reminding me. I know I don’t need a cat. I don’t want a cat. What would I do with a cat?”

“Nary a cute boy in sight.”

Which bands became massively popular for covering songs rather than recording originals?

The agent had only one bad thing to say (the synopsis was crap; writing synopses is hard!), but praised the characterization and particularly how well we introduced a character’s personality quickly.

“Cute girls?”

Engaging in conversation that also shows something about their intelligence, personality, wit (or lack thereof); and

Why was the rock band Kiss so successful?

“From the look of you, if you try to sleep now, you’ll spend the next three hours hanging onto your bed trying to stop the world spinning. Since you’re not going to sleep anyway, you might as well keep me company.”

“I’m serious!” Claire said. “It’s staring straight at me.” She let the curtain fall. “Weird.”

Essentially, what you do is show the character:

“But they’re cold!”

“It’s a cat. All cats are weird.” May sipped from her mug, inhaling the warmth. She closed her eyes. The room spun. She opened them again. “Ugh. I think I drank too much.”

Claire sat back down, legs tucked elegantly beneath her. “You are looking a bit sloppy,” she said, inspecting May through narrowed eyes.

“Yes way. It’s washing itself under the street light. Uh-oh, I think it spotted me. It knows I’m watching it. I swear it’s looking at me.”

May studied the black and white comic panels. “Oh, my. She looks…anatomically implausible. What is she doing to that poor man? Wait, are those cat ears?”

“Thanks. You’re looking pretty ratty yourself. Have you been in that bathrobe all day?”

“May! You’re home late! Early, I mean. Well, I mean, it’s early in the morning, but you’re home before I expected. Er, after. Before?”

“You know what? Never mind,” May said. “I am way, way too drunk to be having this conversation.”

May pushed Claire’s feet away. Claire rose to peer out the window. “Huh. It’s still there.”

“I know! That’s why I’m putting them under you!”

May yelped. “Hey! Your feet are cold!”

Do that and you can ground your characters quite quickly.

“You need some tea!”

“Hang on, are they playing ping-pong?”

Claire, one of May’s three flatmates, former university roommate, and best friend in all the world, shrugged expansively. “It’s a Saturday night. What else would I be doing?”

“Tart!”

“No, about the cat. You don’t need a cat. You remember what happened to your spider plant, right?”

“About wearing more clothes? How am I supposed to catch any fish if I don’t show off the bait?”