You know the case. You know the rule. You can even picture the page of the textbook where it sits.
Then a problem question lands in front of you, and suddenly none of it seems to connect.
Almost every LLB student has felt this. You can spend hours revising negligence, contract formation or criminal liability, and still freeze when unfamiliar facts appear on the page.
The issue is rarely a lack of knowledge. More often, it is the jump from knowing the law to using it.
By the end of this guide, you will have a clear method for your next assignment.
Picture a simple scenario. A customer walks into a shop, slips on a wet floor and hurts their wrist. It looks like a classic negligence question, and everything you revised comes rushing back.
But reciting the elements of negligence does not answer the problem. A marker wants to see you ask what caused the fall, what the shop owner knew and what precautions were realistically available.
Was there a warning sign? Had the floor just been mopped, or had it been wet for an hour? Each detail changes how the law bites.
Contract law works the same way. A chain of emails with shifting terms will never match a textbook example neatly.
Think of it like this: the law is the framework, and the facts are what you test against it. That is what lawyers actually do, and it is what your lecturers are training you to do in Years 1 and 2.
Many students assume more research means a better grade. The notes pile up, case after case.
Yet if you cannot explain why a case belongs in your argument, another case will not rescue it. A long list of authorities often hides thin reasoning, because the marker is left to work out the connection alone.
Then there is the urge to write everything you know. A rule from week three goes in, then an exception, then another. Before long, the answer shows off your memory rather than answering the question.
Conflicting authorities cause trouble too. Imagine one case involving a visible warning sign and another where no warning was given.
Both may deal with the same principle, but that factual difference could explain why the courts decided differently. Do not hide it. Ask what changed, why it mattered and which approach fits your facts.
Good analysis depends on deciding what deserves space. Many students browse resources such as a Law Assignment Service Online to see how legal reasoning is laid out, and that can be a helpful way to learn structure. Still, the useful question never changes: which material genuinely helps resolve the issue in front of me?
Primary sources, meaning statutes and judgments, should carry the most weight where they directly govern the issue. Textbooks and articles can explain tricky principles or point you towards authorities, but they should never replace reading the law itself.
Read the assessment wording carefully too. “Advise”, “analyse”, “discuss” and “evaluate” ask for different things, and simply explaining a rule when asked to evaluate leaves half the task undone.
Instead of writing in one rush, move through the problem in stages.
A counterargument strengthens this process. If the other side has a sensible reading, acknowledge it and explain why yours is more convincing.
Before drafting the first paragraph, take the problem apart. A short sheet like this keeps research focused:
When reading a judgment, note only the material facts, issue, decision and reasoning you can use.
With legislation, read the provision slowly and notice the words doing the legal work. If a term is disputed, see how courts have treated it.
Then test every paragraph with one question: “So what does this tell me about the facts?” If you cannot answer, the paragraph is probably descriptive.
Case dumping is the first. Stacking authorities in one paragraph looks impressive, but if none connects to the facts, the argument stays thin.
Retelling cases at length is another. A marker needs enough context to see why the authority matters, not the full story of the judgment.
Then comes rule stopping. You state the test correctly and move on, but the facts still have to pass through it. Saying a shopkeeper owes a duty is explanation; showing why this shopkeeper owes it to this customer is application.
Watch for these warning signs in your final edit:
Moving from learning rules to building arguments changes what “knowing the law” means. At first, success feels like remembering the right case or the exact statutory wording. Those matter, but they are only the starting point.
The better question is always: what does this authority help me prove here?
That question changes how you read, research and write. A wet floor is no longer just a negligence scenario, because the warning, the timing and the claimant’s own conduct may all shape the answer.
Once this way of thinking feels familiar, assignments stop being a test of memory and become a chance to show you understand what the law actually does. That is when a pile of cases and statutes turns into an argument.