Creating a character is the most important element of writing. When I did my MA at Exeter, I was told that any character is like an iceberg, the writer only uses a small percentage of the information she has for the story, the rest provides the motivation for the way the character behaves.

The protagonist in my novel, Crucial Evidence, is a female barrister born in 1974, in Lancaster in the north of England and her parents still live there. Her father, Bernard, is and electrician and her mother, Elaine, makes cakes for weddings, birthdays and other special events. She has a younger sister Amanda, known as Sandy, who is married and has two sons.

I have a picture of Cassie helping her mother, stood on a stool in a warm kitchen, a spotted apron tied round her, mixing fruit into a cake batter, and then licking her fingers as she hands over the mixing bowl to her mother.

Another major influence in her life was her grandfather, Frank. Lancaster was the home of the furniture manufacturers, Waring & Gillow, whose products are now highly sought after because of the quality of the workmanship. The factory closed in 1961 and Frank was made d at the age of 50, after that he had to find work as and when he could.His wife, Alice, died before Cassie was born, so she only knew about her from her father. Frank never remarried and centred his life around his family. When Cassie won a scholarship to Lancaster Grammar School for Girls he made a desk for her and it is one of her most treasured possessions.He died when she was about 14, but not before he had instilled in her a strong work ethic and a sense of fair play.

Her mother thought Cassie would go to Catering College and use the skills she had acquired in their home, but the headmistress of the Grammar School encouraged Cassie to go to University. Cassie was undecided what she should study at University, until she went to the Crown Court when it was sitting in Lancaster Castle. She enjoyed the drama of the courtroom and the pursuit of justice by the barristers representing the prosecution and defence, and decided she would study law.

She went to University in Nottingham, where she met and married a Ph.D. student Tony Cranston. After getting a 2.1 degree in law she became a student at Grays Inn and attended the Inns of Court Bar School. This meant she had to spend the week in London and go home at weekends.. As the final exams approached she found herself working longer and longer hours, and Tony started going out on his own. One evening, she telephoned him on his mobile and she could hear a woman’s voice in the background giggling. She asked him where he was and he said in the library, pretending he was working on his thesis. At the weekend she picked up his mobile phone and scrolled through his text messages. her suspicions were confirmed when many of the messages are from the same woman,  saying how much she enjoyed their evening together and thanking him for sending her flowers. Casssie had begun to have doubts about her marriage and was uncertain she could forgive his infidelity. To test Tony, she told him she was contemplating searching for pupillage in London. He told her it was up to her, but of course he couldn’t leave Nottingham.

She took advantage of the sponsors programme at Grays Inn, attending dinners with another Lancastrian in whom she confided. The older barrister arranged for her to have pupillage with her (a form of apprenticeship). Living and working in London she saw less and less of Tony and they drifted apart.

Getting a permanent place in a set of barristers’ chambers is difficult and Cassie along with many other young barristers found it hard. On one occasion a judge’s son get the place she hoped she would get and she was angry that who you know was as important as what you know. Her own working class background and the hint of a Lancashire accent in her voice she believes went against her.  Eventually she does get a place in 3 Burke Court and her career  began in earnest.

Well that’s the background. By the time of the novel she has been in practice at the Bar for 12 years and is a hardworking, natural advocate. She puts her career first, although her family is very important to her. Her divorce was made absolute in 2002, but there have been no permanent relationships up until now. Her career has been successful and she has bought a flat in Notting Hill, likes nice clothes, even though she has to wear black suits for work, and good food. She still cooks as it is the only hobby she as time for, she has to eat so she might as well prepare herself a good meal and enjoy a glass of wine with it.

I have received two rejections in the last two days. One liked the idea of the legal background and thought my personal knowledge shone through, but didn’t think the plot was ‘big enough’ and it was too realistic. Also my main character Cassie Hardman needed more ‘oomph’. The other said the novel, Crucial Evidence, was well crafted and well conceived but not for them.

Sometimes I feel I am nearly there and the next agent who reads it will love the book and want to try and get it published, other times I just want to give up the whole idea, put Crucial Evidence, metaphorically in a drawer’ and forget about this writing business, but I’ve started a second novel and perhaps that will be better, but I am struggling more with the new one.

I have just finished reading ‘Scenes from Early Life’ by Philip Hensher. The life in this novel is that of Zaved Mahmood the author’s husband. Philip was one of my tutors on the Creative Writing course I did at Exeter University. He told us that he didn’t like ‘I’ novels, those written in the first person singular and yet he has chosen to do just that in this book, and does it brilliantly. He has taken those childhood memories both real and believed as Zaved’s family have repeated them, and told a story about the war of independence that gave birth, violently, to the country of Bangal Desh. When he finds the first person singular too restrictive, Philip changes to the third person to tell the story of two musicians and their reactions to the war and to describe some of the atrocities committed. The change in perspective works and provides a lesson for aspiring writers in switching point of view.

The main protagonist in my novel ‘Crucial Evidence’ is female barrister called Cassie Hardman. Here is one of her early experiences at the Bar.

Being in a rush seems to throw one off balance, or at least that’s my experience. It was nearly seven o’clock when I grabbed a robe from one of the pegs in the ladies cloakroom. Fortunately it was not too big or too grubby so I didn’t have to search for another one amongst the few still remaining. I hurried from there across the lane into the medieval hall of Grays Inn. The room was almost full; a mix of  bespectacled students down from University planning a drunken weekend, smug young barristers not yet aware of the problems of pupillage and a sprinkling of more senior members of the bar who didn’t have anyone to cook them a reasonable meal. Dining is obligatory for full membership of an Inn. It’s not a pleasure, the food is indifferent, the wine sour and the port hangover inducing.

The Hall is imposing, a hammer-beam ceiling of oak, large windows reflecting the light, the panelled walls hung with portraits of past Masters of the Inn, sombrely dressed and serious; all presided over by that painting of Queen Elizabeth 1 which everyone knows; a diamond and pearl tiara in her tight red curls, a white ruff round her neck, a cream dress embellished with rubies and the most unfriendly black eyes. Under the portrait, the High table, as usual, was ablaze; the silver was polished, the wine glasses sparkled and the napkins were a bright starched white. The four long rows of refectory tables were not quite so well furnished; the cutlery, a dull steel, the wine glasses, slightly opaque and  thin paper serviettes. I looked round for a space and saw that Mr Senior, not his real name which I have now forgotten, but part of the strange rituals in which the Inn indulged, was a man who had been pestering me for the last few weeks. He was an unattractive specimen, over weight, over-confident with a bad case of halitosis and I had been doing my best to avoid him. He waved at me; I pretended not to see him and ducked down onto a bench near the back of the hall, trying to keep out of sight. Also I was nearer the doors making it easier to escape after the meal, and avoid the possible humiliation of being challenged over some minor mistake in observing the Inn’s etiquette. As I said they go in for some strange rituals.

I was in the middle of introducing myself to my neighbours when the High Steward, actually Bob, the Head Porter, in fancy dress, robes of deep lilac, embroidered with black braid and pompoms and carrying a silver topped staff, walked towards me purposefully. I panicked – were my earrings too large, my skirt too short or perhaps my pale pink shirt had been noticed.

‘Miss Hardman, Mr Senior has asked if you would care to join him’

I gulped, forced a smile to my face and got up. ‘Of course, I’d be delighted.’ I followed Bob to the seat opposite Mr Senior.

‘I thought that you would prefer to sit with us than with those rather disgusting students.’ Mr Senior said. I nodded at him and poured myself a glass of wine. I leant back, as far as I dared without falling backwards off the bench. I was saved from making any further conversation with him by the sound of a gavel on the table. We all stood up whilst a procession of the Benchers, Law Lords, High Court  Judges and eminent silks to a man, and I mean man, slowly moved  into the room. Their black robes embellished with gold braid worn not with tabs but with collar and tie to demonstrate that they were not in formal court dress.

   Another one of the bizarre rituals is that the two most senior Benchers come to the table where Mr Senior sits, and shake his hand and those of the other three members of hall sitting with him. Lord S and Mr Justice Y approached us and began to shake hands with the group of four. I was last; I was stood in an awkward position, my knees bend by the bench behind me, which had not been pushed back far enough to enable me to stand upright. I needed to turn to my right, lift my right hand and extend it across the table to reach that of Lord S.  As I moved my arm, the hands and fingers extended, the tip of my middle finger caught the glass full of red wine. I watched, my eyes wide open in horror, as it tipped and rolled slowly over the edge of the table, showering the left pinstriped leg of His Lordship’s trousers and depositing droplets of wine over his shiny black shoes.

I couldn’t move. I looked down at the table as I mouthed an apology.  Lord S backed off stepping on Mr Justice Y’s toe and ‘Bob’ hurried over with a spare napkin to mop up the spilled wine.

After we sat down again Mr Senior leaned across and said, ‘Well that’s your prospects at the Bar ruined.’

At least he never bothered me again.

A report in The Times says that out of date laws are to be repealed. It reminded me of my favourite unenforceable and rather laughable piece of legislation that makes it illegal to fail to do archery practice every week. So get out your bows and arrows and head to your nearest archery ground – usually called something Butts. I would guess most are under concrete now.

I looked up recipes for Beetroot and found one in Jane Grigson’s Vegatable book for beetroot with potatoes that came from a book of recipes by Jessie Conrad, wife of the novelist Joseph. Mrs Conrad’s cookery book contained a preface written by her more famous husband who concluded that cookery books are the only truly moral books as there ‘only aim is to increase the happiness of mankind and add to the cheerfulness of nations.’ he argud that his theory was proved by the ferocity of native Indians around the Great Lakes was due to suffering from dyspepsia.

Why the title scribbling advocate, you might well ask. It’s simple, I was a barrister who worked in the Courts in London principally defending those accused of crime, murder, robbery, burglary etc. The sex and violence but also some serious frauds. Since retiring I have written a novel using my experiences called ‘Crucial Evidence’.

I find friends are always asking me about cases they read about in the newspapers or they see reported on the TV so I thought it would be a good idea to explain why somethings happen the way they do in the Criminal Courts. Or at least why I think they have occurred. So if anyone has a question about stuff they’ve seen or heard, just ask. I can’t help on any ones individual cases and any way you wouldn’t want your personal affairs all over the internet would you.

I will also describe my search for a publisher and, how if I fail, my route to self publication of my novel.