New York Times, Saturday, January 25, 2020

Given that I spend too much time on Twitter complaining that the NYT weekend puzzles have gotten too easy, it's only right that my comeback as a constructor, and my solo debut, should be on a Saturday. (Feel free to razz me if this one turned out easy for you.)

When I quit constructing in 2010, I was fine with my decision. I was pursuing a lot of other interests, and eventually, I started writing trivia, which scratches my itch for clue-writing but with fewer constraints. So, despite being part of the crossword community all this time, I didn't miss making puzzles. But over the past couple of years, as the conversation has turned more to the underrepresentation of women in puzzles, I started to feel a little guilty about not constructing. I also realized that I wanted the puzzles I solve not to be so bro all the time! In 2019 I decided it was time to be the change I want to see in the world.

When I worked with Bruce Venzke, our arrangement was that one or the other of us would come up with a theme (if any), he made the grids, and I wrote the clues. So despite having published many, many crosswords, I felt very unqualified to do it on my own at first. At the 2019 ACPT, there was so much great discussion about constructing and women in puzzles, and of course, placing the highest I've ever placed as a solver helped to light a fire under me to get started. I asked Andy Kravis over and traded him a home-cooked meal for a gridmaking tutorial, for which I am eternally grateful.

Don't call it a comeback. I've been here for years! But I'm thrilled to be back as a solo artist, making puzzles with my own womanly voice.

Stella's back! I'm always entertained by her social media posts involving her lifting something gigantic over her head. I was tickled by her profile pic and the mantra on her T-shirt.

Once a week, I have a climbing session with a bunch of folks where we work on stuff that's too hard for us. It usually involves clenched teeth, unexpected falls, taping up cuts, and plenty of pain, but that's the way to get to the next level.

Similarly, reaching for stuff that was too hard for me in today's puzzle left me exhausted. Better off for it, though.

Jim Horne and I enjoy exchanging thoughts about puzzles, and I figured DURANCE VILE was something cultured, literary folks like himself would feel smug about knowing. His impression of the puzzle overall? "Loved it, except I had no idea what the heck DURANCEVILLE was."

I have a feeling it's not as fun a place as Margaritaville.

I know GAMINS from crosswords, similarly with PALAVER. I felt high and mighty that I could plop in that crossing letter with no problem. Take that, non-solvers-extraordinaire! Peons, can't even determine that it's not PALEVER / GEMINS or PALOVER / GOMINS (that's a goblin + gremlin hybrid).

Jim said he felt smug knowing Ravel's "Pavane Por UNE Infante Defunte." I, as a classical cellist, of course dropped that in too, not SES then LES then ILE then UND then AAAAARRRGH! None of those make any sense, of course, only a gamin would even think of them.

Similarly with "lemniscate." Exactly 50% of Jim and I dropped in FIGURE EIGHT without blinking (hint: not the guy who took roughly 63 years worth of math through an engineering masters degree).

One's assessment of a themeless has a large component of "how smart did this make me feel." Sure, there are many other criteria, like quality of snazzy long entries, quantity of crossword glue, solving flow, fairness of crosses, but it's so much about smugness. Things that are good for you don't usually generate the shot of elation that a piece of candy delivers.