developing your ocs is 50% waiting for bursts of divine inspiration like an oracle sleeping next the vapours seeping from fissures in the temple floor and 50% stalking them in your mind relentlessly like a persistence predator until they tire out enough for you to get close and scamper away with the bloody scraps of "eye colour: brown" and "dislikes: people who think they're funny" clutched in your mouth like a hunting trophy
Sometimes they sneak up behind you with a 2x4 while you're busy doing something else and that's going to leave some damage you're just not going to recover from.
Sometimes they whisper in your ear some fleeting revelation that's absolutely incredible, and it's always at a time when you're unable to record it anywhere, so you get to just watch it slip between your fingers like the water from your writers-blocked tears.