I talked a little bit about personal vs. editorial voice last week, and I thought I’d follow that up by emphasizing one of the fun things about indie cryptics: there’s more room to play. Everybody’s got their own thoughts about what does and doesn’t work (that’s where I said a variety of test solvers helps), but in order for this type of puzzle to grow as an art form, you need to actually experiment with them in the wild and see what works, what doesn’t, and learn why. Maybe there’s a type of clue that audiences aren’t yet ready for; then again, maybe that time is now. The only thing that’s for sure is that if you take the most prescriptivist stance, you’re unnecessarily limiting yourself. The best editors out there right now (in my book) are the ones who mostly stick to rules, but are willing to break them for a handful of clues in each puzzle, especially if the crossings are clean. How much does this bit of a shared root bother you, really? Is the surface worth nothing? Again, this is where testing matters, and for most of us, the best place to get that is by letting our puzzles out in the wild instead of keeping them hidden away, only releasing them once they’ve conformed entirely to what is acceptable instead of asking what could or should be. God, I feel like a “Think Difference” Macintosh commercial right now, so let’s just move on to the puzzle links: you can solve the latest grid at Crosshare, or grab the PDF below.
Perhaps you’re here because you found my latest variety puzzle over at Gin & Grapefruit, and if so, welcome! And if you—like the host of the very funny Game Changers—have been here the whole time, I have a puzzle up at Gin & Grapefruit, so check it out! As for this week’s Sneaky Six, I think it’s time to talk about difficulty and wavelength. One of the reasons why I suspect cryptics are so difficult to get started with (and why I’m mostly doing minis right now) is because you not only have to understand cryptic conventions, but you have to understand how each individual constructor might interpret and present them. Some are fairly rigid about it, some (like me) are perhaps too loose. But now that we’re in the fifth month of this series, I’d like to think you know me a bit better. You see, whether from just solving or from reading these blurbs, what I’m attempting to do. You’re getting on my wavelength. That doesn’t mean the puzzles are getting any easier, mind you, but you’re probably parsing them a bit faster: you can see a surface and go, What Would Aaron Do? and be right more often than not. I personally think that’s pretty cool—but I also think that’s why most publications use multiple test solvers. I might breeze through a super tough cryptic because I’m prepared for the traps; those less familiar with that setter might struggle to find a foothold. It’s an interesting dance to find the balance between an individual’s voice and an editor’s/outlet’s, and if you did check out that Gin & Grapefruit, I think you’ll see what I’m talking about. (All in a good way!)
Anyway, you came for a Sneaky Six, and you can find it as always up on Crosshare in app or in .puz, plus as a PDF below. Many thanks to skaldskaparmal (who is definitely getting on my wavelength) for the test solve.
It’s funny how a shift in perspective can change how we feel about our work, no? When I started writing these, I was just thinking of how much more manageable it would be to write one 6×6 mini a week than it would be to write a full grid each month, but it’s basically the same thing. But even doing the math, realizing that I’m essentially writing a clue a day, it still feels more approachable. I think this goes the same for solvers, too: if you solve four midi puzzles a day, you’re basically solving as many clues as a full-sized grid, and yet it moves faster. Maybe that’s because there seem to be fewer places to get stuck, even if this is (I think) one of my harder grids? Maybe it’s easier to walk away from (or look up) answers in something that you might not deem a “real” puzzle? I don’t know; there’s probably a psychological term for this effect, and maybe I’ll put it in a full-sized grid some day, but until then, I’m going to keep “zipping” along with these.
Thanks to juff and skaldskaparmal for their great advice in the testing phase; you can find the final version in PDF form below or over as a .puz and in-app solve at Crosshare.
Sorry for this one being so late; we started potty training our kid today, and it’s been intense, to say the least. Not much to say, consequently, but I hope at least one or two of these clues gives you a break from whatever stressors are in your life. PDF is below, and the .puz/online solve can be found at Crosshare.
My biggest problem with constructing and blogging these puzzles, small as they may be, each week is that I always feel like I have to be cleverer than necessary. Some part of that may be lingering imposter syndrome, or some might just be due to the community, which by nature is pretty darn clever, and I don’t want to say or clue something stupid or unoriginal. Even these little introductions get me worried that I’m starting the whole puzzle thing off on the wrong foot.
The solution to that, as with solving or writing any puzzle, is to stop thinking, step back, and just DO the thing. Nobody ever constructed a grid by contemplating doing so, and as I’ve said before, what’s freeing about doing a small weekly puzzle is that I don’t get nearly as bogged down in the “What if this isn’t good enough?” weeds that would stop me from ever releasing anything. Here’s what I’m trying this week, I hope you like it, and if you don’t, that’s OK, I’m still learning and I’ll be back next week with another, y’know?
Anyway, the new grid’s up on Crosshare (where you can also download the .puz if you prefer a different interface), and you can also get the PDF below. Shoutout to test solvers skaldskaparmal and Sophie and of course all of you other solvers for encouraging me to keep at this.
Having chosen to try and put out a puzzle each week—and just a mild 6×6, mind you!—I want to take a moment nearly four months in to voice my awe of those who really do this on a regular basis, producing full-length weekly puzzles (like the duo over at Out of Left Field, the Everyman, or Jack Keynes) or bi-weekly variety puzzles (like Steve Mossberg). I honestly don’t know how they have the time, but it’s downright impressive and inspirational. This is especially so given that they’re not really slouches in their cluing: every now and again I’ll spot an entry that seems familiar or which feels a little more pedestrian than I’d like, but it’s not like they’re just settling for any old clue. With just seven clues to do a week, I can already feel the temptation as (self-imposed) deadlines approach to just settle for a surface and submit; I can only imagine what that’s like when writing significantly more. That said, writing cryptic clues is as much a muscle as anything else, and I will admit that the more I’ve done it (along with the occasional test solving), the easier it is for me to find phrases or indicators that excite me and, perhaps more importantly, to dismiss cluing angles that just aren’t going to work well. And so, the experiment continues! Hope you enjoy this grid, which you can download as a PDF below or find over at Crosshare as a .puz and online experience. No test-solvers this week, by the way, so apologies in advance if it’s rougher than intended.
Came close to not finishing this puzzle in time—it’s been a hectic week. That said, I find that when you’re stuck on one thing, it is helpful to come back to another, and sure enough, returning to this grid with fresh eyes helped to lock everything down by my (self-imposed) weekly deadline. That advice goes for solving puzzles as well: regardless of the size of the grid, don’t feel as if you have to finish everything in one big gulp. Take your time, let your subconscious process things, and you may find yourself enjoying the whole process a lot more.
There’s been a lot of talk in the US cryptic community—at least in the corner that I frequent—about what the second cancellation of the New Yorker‘s well-regarded weekly 8×10 cryptic means. That puzzle wasn’t the only one to take a hit on that site, as it also downgraded two weekly puzzles from full-sized 15×15 American crosswords to smaller minis, but without any insight into the overall numbers for these puzzles (or, I guess more importantly in a world of infinite growth, the desired numbers for these puzzles), it’s hard to make inferences about whether audiences are or aren’t turning up.
The question I’ve been asking is how we, as a community of solvers, streamers, and constructors (sometimes all three), can go about helping to get newer solvers involved, whether that’s transitioning from straight crosswords or jumping straight into the deep end of cryptics. (I once recommended Puns & Anagrams in the New York Times as a way of loosening up for the cryptic way of thinking without needing to learn all those meddlesome rules—the Spades to the Hearts of crosswords and the Bridge of cryptics, if you will, but the Times stopped distributing those digitally, even though they still commission and physically print them.) Great ambassadors like Steve Mossberg (who has made his editorial skills available at a number of charity packs and venues, the AVCX included) and joeadultman (who leads a friendly Discord and Twitch)—among many others!—have provided Quiptic and mini 101 packs, and the weekly Browser, a great source for cryptics, once ran a series of smaller-sized Sevens for intro solvers.
I’m curious, then, to see how the AVCX’s recent foray into minis (their first pack of three, which includes Supakorn Pupeerasupong, Matt Monitto, and myself) works out. Does a 5×7 mini seem more approachable (in the same sense as the increasingly popular 5×5 to 10×10 American midis) to audiences, such that they’ll take a shot? I follow a bunch of cryptic setters over on Crosshare (where I also post a weekly 6×6), and the weekly roundup generally highlights minis over full-size puzzles on the site, suggesting that they’re indeed more popular.
I think minis are also greatly helpful to constructors, particularly newer ones who are still figuring out not just their own voice, but the requirements of the few venues they might submit to, because you can get a puzzle out faster and, consequently, get precious feedback more regularly about what is and isn’t working to your targeted audience. I’ve been vocal about using my mini almost experimentally—i.e., to try out potential new indicators or stretchy definitions. But it has to go both ways; World of Games magazine seemingly lamented a lack of trust in newer, “indie” constructors, and while I obviously disagree, I understand that it’s important that there are regular, consistently edited sources for users to find their footing, and that there’s a way to encourage them to keep at it, whether that’s through helpful hints and annotations or a step-by-step blog, vlog, or stream that walks through each parse.
TL;DR: We need more mini cryptics in the world, not less. That seems like the best way to encourage and grow both audiences and setters. I applaud those editors and venues who are helping newer setters to make their debuts, and while I don’t criticize The New Yorker for choosing to recycle rather than publish new ones (hey, at least their stuff is still digitally available), maybe it’s up to the community to make a regular, easier 8×10 of their own.
While testing this puzzle (and reflecting upon 1D from last week’s), I realized that it was very important that solvers all have a relatively fair shake of parsing the clue without outside knowledge. Now, granted, a clue like 6A this week works better if you’ve heard of Minhaj or Piker, and if you’re aware of the term “elder millennial,” but you can still figure it out regardless. Ditto with 5A, where even if you’re a cryptic solver who has avoided hearing anything about The Listener, the surface should still work. The one proper noun I’ve used as an answer in this puzzle—which I try to do so very sparingly—is universally known and the cryptic cluing is about as gentle as it’ll ever get from me. That said, I still want to expose people to things they might not know, and play to my strengths, so apologies in advance if you know nothing about video games; hopefully you can still solve and enjoy 2D, and I’ll continue to try and strike a fair balance as I continue these experiments.
In the original draft of this puzzle, I used one type of cryptic mechanism too often, and I’m glad I had test solvers in skaldskaparmal, n0hk, and juff to help encourage me to not take that easy way out. But it leads to the broader discussion of what the point of a mini puzzle is, really. For me, it’s a means of sharpening my own wordplay and sensibilities, but also for experimenting. With only six (or seven) clues, each one has to count, ideally trying something I (and hopefully other solvers) haven’t seen before, and that’s harder to do when all the clue types are too similar (unless there’s a thematic purpose to that). Writing these puzzles has made me finally appreciate the lessons I never quite picked up in creative writing classes, where I was too taken with my own first drafts: now, I find myself actually getting excited to take another, different crack at a surface. This clue is good, I think, but couldn’t it be better?
The Crossword Scholar 