How do you approach making crosswords for The New Yorker? Are there any clues you’ve written that felt particularly at home here?
As a puzzle-maker, I want to engage in a mental tennis match with the solver—to offer sneaky drop shots, down-the-line ground strokes, clues with top spin, and some groan-inducing net-cord puns. But, in the end, I want the solver to win. If they can struggle through and solve the puzzle, that makes me very happy.
As for clues, I’m fond of two punny ones that I’ve written for PLAGIARIZE: “Appropriate language?” and “Take a page from someone’s book?”
You’ve had a groundbreaking crossword-construction career. Your fellow New Yorker contributor Natan Last devoted an entire chapter of his book, about the history of crossword puzzles, to you and your work. What are you most proud of?
I was touched and honored when I read Natan’s book and realized, Wow, Natan really gets my puzzles! One I’m particularly proud of, which was published in the Times, was a celebration of the Guggenheim’s fiftieth anniversary. The puzzle was filled with notable works from the museum’s collection, and the grid featured a spiral shape—a tribute to the building’s design. On the day of publication, I visited the Guggenheim and saw museumgoers carrying my puzzle as they walked the spiral. That was rewarding.
I’m curious how your approach to puzzle-making has evolved over the years. Aside from adapting to new technologies, do you think you’ve changed as a constructor?
I’ve made dramatic changes in my puzzle-writing approach, and hopefully, through daily practice, my technique improves with each puzzle. These days, I’m not averse to massive revisions or discarding entire puzzles because they don’t feel right, and those decisions occur much earlier in my writing process now.
I also no longer obsess over so-called cheater squares. [Ed. note: This refers to the practice, in crossword constructing, of adding additional black squares to a grid to make it easier to fill—which some purists object to.] To call them “cheaters” is downright unfair, and unnecessarily shaming. To me, they’re simply extra squares that, when used properly, improve the solving experience.
Our solvers may not know that you are also an accomplished musician. Do you see any parallels between music and puzzles?
I’ve noticed that musicians love to solve crosswords, and they’re often very good at them. Perhaps it’s because they’re trained to practice every day; they’re constantly solving problems of intonation, tempo, and tone. And maybe puzzles offer a more concrete problem to solve than intonation, which can take years to master.
This is anecdotal, but I believe that one of the winningest professions at the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament is pianist. Two of the tournament’s most dominant champions over the years—Dan Feyer, with nine victories, and Jon Delfin, with seven—are pianists. I wonder if their sight-reading skills and two-handed dexterity translate into the economy of motion one needs to speed-solve puzzles by hand.
A fun one to end with: What’s a word that’s often disparaged as crosswordese—meaning that it shows up far more often in grids than in real life—but that you’re personally fond of?
I’m the daughter of a seamstress, so I enjoy using an ETUI: a holder for sewing needles, and an early form of responsible needle storage. Don’t we all want to encourage responsible storage and disposal of needles, be they sewing or medical needles? Loose needles spell trouble, and an ETUI solves that problem in an elegant way. As my mother used to warn me: “Store your sewing needle in its case, because if you don’t, it will find you the next time you sit down.”
