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

Last Updated: 21.06.2025 15:42

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

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

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

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?”

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

“You need some tea!”

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

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“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.”

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

Create a context between this character and other characters.

What misfortune led to an important discovery?

“No way.”

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

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

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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?”

“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.”

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

“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.”

“I need to do laundry.”

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

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

“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—”

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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?”

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

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

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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.

“Perv.”

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

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.

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

“It’s not looking at you.”

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“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 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?”

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

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

“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.”

“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.”

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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?”

Essentially, what you do is show the character:

Do that and you can ground your characters quite quickly.

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

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

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What kind of person makes you think "how come there are people like that"?

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

“Cute girls?”

“Claire, I—”

“Nary a cute boy in sight.”

“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.”

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

“Exactly.”

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

“Claire! Why are you still up?”

“Tart!”

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

“But they’re cold!”

“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—”

“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.

“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.”