“A crossword is a battle of wits between the solver and the setter in which the latter should always concede victory gracefully to the former.”
So goes the maxim about which the crossword setters’ world revolves.
This post will outline how to manage to lose gracefully but not without providing a tussle in which a funny bone or two is tickled, a forgotten memory re-sparked, a desire to learn kindled, and dare I say, one or two of the solvers’ egos is gently massaged!
Ever since Achilles chased Hector around Troy (Iliad 22), Odysseus served wine to Polyphemus (Odyssey 2), and Aeneas attempted to embrace Creusa (Aeneid 2), the number three has held a special place in literary production and I am delighted to say that crossword setting is no different.
There are precisely that number of distinct stages in setting a crossword puzzle, videlicet:
1. A decision regarding the pattern of black squares in an empty grid;
2. The selection of interlocking words which fill that grid;
3. And the production of clues to those words.
Although the parts add up equally to form the overall quality of a puzzle, they constitute varying amounts of work for the setter. Let’s look at each step of the process in turn.
Designing the grid
The grid should be symmetrical and it should allow words to flow from one quarter to next without causing isolated corners. In addition, in each slot for entering the answer, or ‘light’ in our jargon, a word should be not really have more than 50% of its letters unchecked by intersecting across and down words.
Since the decision was taken – somewhat before our 2015 kick-off – to use 13 x 13 grids we had the opportunity to use the same set of grids which our alma mater, The Times, uses for its quick, non-cryptic puzzles. Luckily this one of our wheels did not need reinventing.
Selecting the words
Having decided which of the 60-odd available grids to use, it is time to fill it with words. Now, the admission which follows will not surprise any fully paid-up members of the twenty-first century, scilicet there is software out there which takes the strain out of this part of the process. The sole desideratum is a suitable word list with which the filling algorithm can work its magic. Such things do exist and even if they did not it would not be an arduous task to produce one with a special little gizmo found within this software and resources such as www.thelatinlibrary.com, inter alia.
Having seeded a couple of lights with appealing answers (vide infra ‘Translation clues’) the software offers a list of words which could fill each light in turn. The setter’s choice is restricted to words which could feasibly complete the task of filling the entire grid. One does not blunder into and have to reverse out of blind alleys—a few moments pondering will confirm that Latin words are constructed in a very much more regimented manner than English ones. As an exercise, list for yourself those letters which cannot come at the end of a Latin word.
But what sort of words should be encouraged into the grid?
A good selection of nouns in all cases, verbs of various person, number, tense, mood, voice, adjectives and adverbs, &c. It is clear that having a firm grasp of temporal and spatial adverbs aids translation, so pedagogically dropping plenty of them into the grid is no bad thing.
Producing the clues
Finally, writing the clues is the part of the process which really allows a setter to showcase some personality and character. The touchstones here are variety, accuracy, and wit all wrapped into clues which go that extra mile in begging to be solved. We are to amuse the solver for a finite period not stymie her completely and certainly not to snuff out love’s light. Our armoury consists of perhaps half a dozen identifiable types.
Multiple definitions (double, or more, defs). At least one of each or either English and Latin but preferably more of either or each. Although they are, at heart, quite a boring clue-type as far as producing a smile is concerned they are pedagogically powerful—they do bring synonyms together in a way which few other classroom exercises do. Of course giving a Latin synonym tells the solver which of two choices the answer is not! “He’s quiet: silet (5) leaves our solver with ample confidence that tacet is required.
Quotations can come with or without accompanying translation. At the grid-filling stage it is good practice to endeavour to include a word or two which is immediately recognized from mainstream literature. Of course what is mainstream ‘common’ will not be common across the whole spectrum of solvers. Personally I rarely stray far beyond Virgil, Catullus, Ovid, Cicero, Caesar, and Tacitus for this type of clue except that I do indulge my pleasure in Plautus and Terence with (what I consider) to be very simple words and stock phrases.
There is a genre of clue which demands some morphological dexterity. These can be the epitome of tiresome if used unhelpfully. “She will have laughed (13)” is neither particularly helpful nor much fun nor educational. Isn’t it preferable to encourage success for the solver by feeding him all of the grammatical info and a translation? “She’ll have laughed her little cotton socks off, 3rd sing. fut. perf. act. indic., cachinno, ~are, ~avi, ~atum (13)”.
Translation clues can provide a little amusement, e.g. when a statement which is factually true leads the solver to the answer. Pons, I think, is a justifiably suitable answer to the question “Quid in Londinio concidebat? (4)”.
Likewise a paraphrase of a quotation, “He sings: Vergilius arma virumque ____ (5)”. One need not read too far into the Aeneid to have no doubt that canit is expected.
Other possibilities include translations of Latin phrases as used in current English, translations of titles of pop songs (going back far enough to comfort those of our solvers who remember bobby sox and brilliantined quiffs), translations of titles of TV shows, UK comedians’ tags. “Shut that door, Larry Grayson, cf. Plautus Mostellaria 425 (7,6)” gives plenty of entry points for occlude ostium.
Classical Gen. Ken provides a way to retain the attention of lovers of Latin literature who may not necessarily be gerund-grinders. Setters should not forget that joyous subset of solvers who assiduously tinker without ever entertaining the expectation of finishing. When a proper noun, say, finds its way into the grid the benignly avuncular setter should grasp it with a view to cluing it with a ‘gimme’. One gimme per quarter is not too many.
Random one-offs which defy categorical taxonomy may provide a happy route to humour. “Such as belly with wind (4)”: here the trick is to read ‘belly’ as an intransitive verb and not as the noun which it most readily appears, the answer vela should follow soon after.
In fine I shall fail to answer to your satisfaction the question of how long it takes to set a puzzle. Stage one takes next no time at all since we use an existing set of grids. Stage two takes at most thirty minutes to get a satisfactory fill, or Fortuna iuvante, as little as ten. I do not race through stage three ab ovo usque ad mala, from soup to nuts, but prefer to beaver away slowly and steadily. Most days I would write up about half a dozen clues in something like an hour. However, what is not quantifiable is the time spent collecting suitable material for the long entries nor the subliminal activity which results in sideways connections, fatuous humour, and the most satisfying of penny-drop moments. So let’s say ten hours, but I could be quite wrong.
scribebam in solitudine mense Martio MMXX
Auctor
