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

“Tart!”

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

Essentially, what you do is show the character:

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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?”

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

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

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Create a context between this character and other characters.

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

“I need to do laundry.”

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“Claire, I—”

“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.”

“No way.”

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

Do that and you can ground your characters quite quickly.

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

Hello, I have a question about astral projection. I started to get interested in this a little while after my mum passed in april. I thought I may be able to see her and speak with her if I managed to achieve astral projection. Since this interest, every time i sleep on my back I go into sleep paralysis. However, I cant progress into astral projection because it is very scary for me as I feel like I'm suffocating when this happens. I panic and force myself to wake up. This only ever happened about once a year before this. It sometimes lasts a long time. This has happened about 3 times per week since my mum died, as mentioned on a previous post. I no longer try to go into it anymore(due to the suffocating feeling), but it still happens. I read that sleep paralysis is the pathway to astral projection. Why has this started to happen so frequently since simply taking an interest in it? Is this connected to the afterlife? I am concerned about it as I now cannot seem to stop this happening. Could it be my mum trying to communicate? Im asking due to more knowledge around this in this group.

“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—”

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

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

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

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

“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.”

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“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.”

“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?”

“Claire! Why are you still up?”

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“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.

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

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“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.”

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

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

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

“Cute girls?”

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.

Why do some people enjoy being dominated?

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

“Perv.”

“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—”

“Exactly.”

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

“Nary a cute boy in sight.”

“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…”

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“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 glad my sex life is so entertaining.”

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

“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.

“You need some tea!”

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

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

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

“It’s not looking at you.”

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?”

“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.”

“But they’re cold!”

“Exactly.”

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

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?”

“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.”