Communicate Crossword Clue

I get a kick out of cryptic clues that mean 'communicate' because they're so flexible — the surface can be about gossip, but the mechanics are pure wordplay. My go-to approach is to split the clue into definition and wordplay first: the definition will almost always sit at one end of the clue, so circle the first and last few words and ask which could mean 'communicate' (words like 'relay', 'relate', 'impart', 'tell', 'air' pop up a lot). Then scan the rest for indicators — 'about', 'again', 'partly', 'scrambled', 'heard' — they tell you what type of trick is being used.

Next I test plausible constructions. For example, 'Again slow to communicate (6)' parses nicely as RE (again) + LATE (slow) = RELATE, which means 'communicate'. Another neat device is the hidden indicator: in a clue like 'Claim partly to communicate (6)', 'partly' signals a hidden answer inside 'claIM PARTly' which gives IMPART. Anagrams and homophones show up too: 'Layer scrambled to communicate (5)' -> RELAY (anagram of LAYER). I always jot down crossing letters from the grid if possible; that often narrows multiple synonyms to a single fit.

Finally, practice pattern recognition. After a dozen clues you start spotting favorite indicators and usual synonym lengths. Keep a short list of common cryptic verbs for 'communicate' and their typical entrances: 'impart' (hidden), 'relay' (anagram or charade), 'relate' (re+late), 'tell' (charade or homophone variants), 'air' (broadcast). It feels satisfying when the wordplay locks up and the definition just clicks, and I always smile when a clever surface hides a tidy parse.

There are a handful of six-letter verbs that crossword setters reach for when the clue reads 'communicate', and I've learned to spot the likely candidates by tone and crossings.

'Convey' and 'inform' are the two that show up most often for me — 'convey' for getting an idea across and 'inform' when someone is being told something. 'Relate' tends to appear when the clue hints at telling a story or reporting. 'Signal' is the go-to if the clue implies nonverbal or coded communication. 'Impart' has that slightly formal, literary bent and often appears in clues about giving knowledge. I also keep 'notify', 'confer', and 'parley' in the back of my mind: 'notify' for formal notice, 'confer' or 'parley' when the clue leans toward discussion or negotiation. Crossings usually seal the deal, but thinking about whether the clue is formal, conversational, or physical helps me pick the right six-letter fit — it’s a tiny semantic dance that never gets old to me.

I love how a simple clue can open up a whole little world of language. When you see 'communicate' as a crossword clue, the setter is usually nudging you toward a shorter, tidy synonym — and 'convey' is a perfect fit. It matches the sense of transmitting an idea or message, and it’s compact enough to slot into a grid where space matters. Crossword constructors favor words that are versatile: 'convey' can mean to carry physically, to transfer legally, or to express meaning, so it pulls double duty when crossings need to be flexible.

Sometimes solvers get tripped up because 'communicate' can spawn many possibilities — 'tell', 'relay', 'impart', 'express' — but the crossing letters often force the choice. If the pattern is ONVY or ONEY, 'convey' becomes the clear winner. I enjoy that little click — the moment when a long-sounding clue compresses into a neat word. It makes solving feel efficient and slightly poetic, like folding a sentence into a pocket-sized version of itself.

Ever stared at a New York Times grid and had 'communicate' staring back like a tiny challenge? I get that itch — for me the fun is in matching tone and letter count. Short, punchy fills the Times loves: 3-letter 'say' and 4-letter 'tell' are classic go-tos. If crosses point to a slightly more formal verb, 5-letter options like 'relay', 'speak', or 'utter' pop up often. For six letters, 'inform', 'convey', and 'impart' are frequent choices, and they carry subtle differences: 'inform' = give facts, 'convey' = carry meaning, 'impart' = bestow wisdom.

Sometimes the grid wants a phrasal or idiomatic option: 'get across' or 'put across' (often clued as two words), 'talk to' or 'reach out' could fit if spacing and theme allow. For tech-leaning clues, 'transmit' or 'broadcast' might be in play. I always scan crossings — they’ll nudge you toward whether the puzzle needs a blunt 'say' or a softer 'convey'. Personally, nailing the nuance feels like unlocking a small victory every time.

A lovely thing about clever clueing is that it talks to you in two voices at once: the straightforward definition and the playful instruction for how to build that answer. I enjoy the tiny rules-setters follow — anagram indicators like 'mixed' or 'shaken', hidden-word leads like 'inside' or 'concealed', homophone flags such as 'sounds like', containers signaled by 'around' or 'holding', and reversals hinted with words like 'back' or 'returned'. Those bits are the grammar of cryptic clueing, and once you know them the setter’s wink becomes a conversation rather than a trick.

Beyond mechanics, a setter crafts a surface reading that misleads without lying: elegant misdirection, rhythm, and sometimes a joke. Enumeration (the little (5,4) or (7) note) is the setter’s promise of fairness. Theme entries and grid constraints mean sometimes the clue’s wording has to fit the puzzle’s shape, so I admire how setters fold constraint into creativity. When a clue clicks — that delightful, absurd moment when the wordplay and definition snap together — I feel like I’ve found a secret handshake with the puzzle-maker, and that small victory never gets old.

On my daily puzzle habit, I’ve noticed that setters love short, punchy synonyms for 'informer' because they fit tidy grids and are easy to clue. The three-letter classic is 'rat' — brutal, compact and utterly crossword-friendly. For four letters you'll often see 'narc' or 'fink'; both carry slightly different flavors (one cops-on-drugs, the other squeals generally), and clue writers exploit that nuance. When the grid allows six or seven letters, 'snitch' and 'squealer' pop up; they're more conversational and let setters play with surface readings.

Across different outlets there's regional variety: British puzzles like 'grass' or 'stoolie' more than US papers, and cryptic setters might use 'mole' for an undercover informer. I always scan crossings for a vowel pattern first — a lot of these synonyms have very predictable letter shapes — and that little trick saves me from getting tangled by lookalike options. It’s oddly satisfying to see how a single clue can lead to 'rat', 'narc', 'fink' or 'snitch' depending on tone and enumeration — it keeps me hooked and smiling at the setter’s cheeky choices.

My go-to approach for a clue like 'assess' is to slow down for a beat and think about what part of speech the puzzle setter expects. If the grid wants a short fill — four letters is common — my brain immediately circles 'rate' and 'tax' because those are crossword staples. If it's longer, words like 'appraise', 'evaluate', 'size up' or 'gauge' pop to mind. I make a quick mental checklist: verb vs noun, tense, and whether the clue could be hinting at a more specific meaning (like 'assess' as in 'levy' — e.g., tax).

Then I use the crosses. I always fill the clues I know instantly and let the crossing letters narrow down which synonym fits. For example, if the pattern is AE and the clue is 'assess', 'rate' becomes almost certain; if it’s AE and a pair of crossings are G and E, 'gauge' fits nicely. Provisional fills are fine — pencil them in mentally and move on if anything feels iffy. I also watch for little indicator words in the clue that change meaning: 'often' for habitual, 'reportedly' for sounds-like, or odd punctuation that might suggest a non-literal take.

Practice helps more than you think. I keep a short mental list of common short verbs and noun forms that setters reuse, so when time is tight I can scan three or four obvious possibilities and be done. There’s a small, addictive thrill when a single crossing letter locks the whole thing in, and that feeling is why I keep doing Sunday puzzles on my subway rides.

That tiny clue 'informer' is one of those little traps that makes me grin and groan at the same time.

My default fill for short crosswords is usually 'rat'—three letters, blunt, and used so often it's almost crossword shorthand. If the grid wants four letters, I lean toward 'fink' or 'tatt' (if it's playful), and for longer slots 'snitch' (6), 'informant' (8), or 'stoolie' (7) often fit. If the puzzle's from the UK, don't forget 'grass' or 'nark'—British setters love those. For cryptic puzzles the setter might be more sly: 'sings' could be clued by 'informer' (as in 'to sing' = to inform), so verb forms can appear rather than nouns.

Crosses are king. A lot of solvers panic at the clue but once a couple of crossing letters are in, the right fill jumps out. I like how this clue showcases regional vocabulary and setter style; it keeps every puzzle fresh and a little cheeky.

I still hunt for words with a kind of quiet glee, and 'condemn' is one of those clues that makes my brain snap into solver-mode. When I see a clue like that I immediately parse what part of speech the puzzle needs — is it a verb (to condemn) or a noun (a condemnation)? That narrows the field fast. For three-letter slots I usually test 'pan' and 'rap' first because crosswords love them; for four letters 'slam' or 'damn' are instant contenders. Longer slots push me toward 'decry', 'censure', 'denounce', or even 'convict' if the clue leans judicial.

Beyond raw synonyms I pay attention to modifiers and surface language. If the clue reads 'Condemn loudly' I shove 'decry' to the front of the list; if it reads 'Condemn, perhaps, in court' I'm thinking 'convict' or 'sentence'. Crosses are everything — a single confirmed letter often collapses a handful of options into the one right answer. I also keep a mental list of solver-favorites like 'pan' and 'decry' because puzzle setters repeat certain economical verbs, and that memory saves me time. Solving one of these clues feels like tuning an instrument: a few adjustments and the right word rings out, which never fails to make me grin.