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

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

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

“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—”

What do feminists mean when they say they want to ‘normalize’ menstruation and its discussion?

“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…”

Do that and you can ground your characters quite quickly.

“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.”

Could humans be selectively bred, like dogs, to create 2 subspecies that can no longer have offspring? Do I not understand selective breeding properly? Im not worried about the moral implications, just the science please.

“Claire, I—”

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—”

Why do people turn a blind eye to bad behaviour if someone is very good looking? Whereas if someone is ugly, they get harshly judged for everything?

“Perv.”

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

“Nary a cute boy in sight.”

Is it okay for my husband to help other ladies without telling me?

“No way.”

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

“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.”

What is your opinion on the belief that one can change their life by changing their thoughts and having a positive mindset?

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

Create a context between this character and other characters.

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

What do you think is the most powerful line in the song "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" by Édith Piaf?

“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.”

“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.”

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

I’m 17 and looking for a girl. What do I do?

“Exactly.”

“Cute girls?”

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

What is the attitude of the Swedish people towards sending soldiers to Ukraine to fight for the freedom of Europe?

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

Essentially, what you do is show the character:

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

Why do trans people get so deeply offended when a stranger misgenders them, especially when it's a first encounter? I've been socially transitioned for 4 years and it just feels like a waste of energy to be so hurt by it.

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

“Claire! Why are you still up?”

“But they’re cold!”

What would you change in the "Game of Thrones" storyline if you were one of the writers of the TV series?

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?”

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

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

What is life without a job?

“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.

“It’s not looking at you.”

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

Are today’s baseball pitchers faster than a few years ago, or is it that radar guns have improved and get the pitch speed as it is released rather than as it reaches the plate?

“You need some tea!”

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.

“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?”

If a non-LGBT man (of any age) from a Western country attracts far more mosquitoes than potential dates, what does that say about him?

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

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’m glad my sex life is so entertaining.”

What are mean nicknames to call my sister? She is always so mean to me.

“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.”

“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?”

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

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

“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.”

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

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?”

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

“Exactly.”

“Tart!”

“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.”

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

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

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?”