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

“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—”

“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.”

Does eating bread before bed make you fat? If so, why?

“I need to do laundry.”

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

“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?”

How many women have accidentally pooped their pants and became turned on afterwards?

“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.

“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—”

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?”

What are the possible reasons for people feeling depressed after the holiday season? Why does being alone exacerbate these feelings?

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.

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

“No way.”

Why are terrible, boring art pieces done by famous people worth so much while beautiful pieces done by amateurs are worthless?

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

“Perv.”

“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?”

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“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.”

“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.”

“Cute girls?”

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

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

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

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

“Nary a cute boy in sight.”

Essentially, what you do is show the character:

Why do some men want to remain single despite the fact that many women want to have a romantic relationship with them?

“It’s not looking at you.”

“You need some tea!”

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

Have you ever witnessed political correctness harm someone?

“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…”

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

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?”

If sea levels were rising, wouldn't the acreage of coastal salt marshes increase? Are they?

Do that and you can ground your characters quite quickly.

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

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

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?

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

“Claire! Why are you still up?”

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

Why are Republicans such intolerant people?

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?”

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

“But they’re cold!”

What is the one thing you don't understand that others do?

Create a context between this character and other characters.

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

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

A kid threw a stone at my car. I confronted his mom (who was nearby). She said, "You can't prove it was my son." How should I have reacted?

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

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

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

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“I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Tart!”

“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.”

“Claire, I—”

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”