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

“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.”

“You need some tea!”

“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…”

How did the trans issue metastasize within just a decade from being a question of kindness and tolerance to a tiny minority to convulsing a whole society?

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

“No way.”

“I need to do laundry.”

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

“It’s not looking at you.”

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

Why am I dreaming of people I've never seen before?

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

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

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

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

Do that and you can ground your characters quite quickly.

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?”

When a black man and a white woman have a child, does the child become white? If a white man and a black woman have a child, does the child become black?

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

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

“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?”

What do you do when your family doesn’t care about you?

“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—”

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

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

Do you ever feel like you are doing good, but would do better if people hadn’t blamed you or even bothered you? I have gotten lonely, but I always am up to something (creating my destiny).

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

“Claire, I—”

“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.”

My wife found I had been on Pornhub. She considers this adultery and wants a divorce. She hasn't touched me in over 6 years. What should I do?

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.

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

“But they’re cold!”

What is the degree of influence of Saudi Wahhabism on the modern Muslim world?

“Perv.”

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

“Cute girls?”

How do I seduce a maid for sex?

“Nary a cute boy in sight.”

“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—”

“Tart!”

How can I get rid of the fake girls on social media that are claiming to be hookups? Is there a way to shuffle through them and the real women that actually want to talk?

“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.”

“Exactly.”

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

Why is pornography still alive and not illegal? Why doesn’t the government do about tricking women into them?

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

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

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

Are democrats inherently stupid or just lazy? They can Google " Ohio is investigating reports by residents that migrants are eating the local wildlife " why can't they seem to do the most simple things? Blind, ignorant, stupid or obtuse?

Create a context between this character and other characters.

“Exactly.”

“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.”

Is Replika conscious?

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.

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

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

Is there anything wrong with me because I'm still single?

“Claire! Why are you still up?”

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

Essentially, what you do is show the character:

“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.”

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

“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?”

“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.”

“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.

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?”

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

“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.”

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?”