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

Essentially, what you do is show the character:

“Nary a cute boy in sight.”

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?”

What are some prime examples of gibberish from the bible?

“It’s not looking at you.”

“Claire! Why are you still up?”

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?”

Can the right person make a narc want to change their ways? Is love that powerful? Has anyone seen this or experience it?

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.

“Exactly.”

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

Why have feminists not demanded that females be required to register with the selective service? Are female lives more precious than male lives?

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

“I need to do laundry.”

“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.”

Dear atheist, do you realise that there is a God watching over you who will one day judge and condemn you for every wrong thing you have said and done before casting you into the lake of fire?

“Tart!”

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

“Exactly.”

Why is my older sister so mean to me as if I was her enemy?

“Cute girls?”

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.”

Can they start feeding only one meal to prisoners on death row or those doing a life sentence? Because only then will it be real punishment. If they want extra food they can work or pay from their own pocket.

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

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.

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

Do you consider masturbating to porn cheating if you are married?

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

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

“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.”

Have you made a female relative or friend squirt?

Create a context between this character and other characters.

“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.”

“But they’re cold!”

Has anyone ever had sex with their cousin? How did it start, and would you do it again?

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

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

“No way.”

Hauler Talk: Dissecting the wet-weather tire rules for Mexico City - NASCAR.com

“Claire, I—”

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?”

“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—”

When Trump blames DEI, isn't he just saying "it must be because there's black or brown people involved"?

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

“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 need some tea!”

What is the dirtiest thing you have witnessed your wife do?

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

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

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

“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?”

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

“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?”

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

Do that and you can ground your characters quite quickly.

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

“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.

“Perv.”

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

“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—”

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

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

“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.”

“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…”

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

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

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

“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.”