It’s probably the easiest crossword question you will ever come across: Who is the puzzle master?

For those of you who need help finding the 10-letter answer, here’s a clue: Every time you finish a weekday New York Times crossword or struggle with the brain-busting Sunday version, you have the puzzle master to praise or curse.

The answer, across or down, is Will Shortz, crossword editor for The New York Times. He’s a man with a passion for puzzles.

“Crosswords are the most flexible forms of puzzles ever invented because they use language, which we use every day, and they turn everything we know and say into a game,” he said. “It’s a way of sharpening your wits.”

The New York Times crossword puzzle is the most popular and — according to the venerable newspaper — the most influential puzzle in the world. It appears in 300 newspapers worldwide, including daily in the Honolulu Star-Advertiser’s Today section.

The 63-year-old Shortz, who started solving puzzles when he was a boy, will entertain Hawaii crossword enthusiasts in person for the first time during an evening presentation Thursday at the Hawaii Theatre. He’ll share trade secrets, offer tips on completing (and creating) crosswords, and test your puzzle-solving skills with a few word games.

Solving puzzles goes to the heart of human nature, Shortz said in a telephone interview from his home in Pleasantville, N.Y.

“We’re faced with chaos every day in life, and we just muddle through and do the best we can,” he said. “In most cases we don’t find perfection. But with a human-made puzzle, you are carrying the challenge from start to finish, and when you finish the last square, you feel a sense of elation at putting the world in order.”

Shortz grew up on an Arabian horse farm in Indiana and created his first crossword puzzle when he was about 8. When he was 14 he sold his first puzzle. He took that love of clues and words to Indiana University, where he was allowed to design his own curriculum and, in 1974, receive the world’s only degree in the study of puzzles — enigmatology.

Three years later he graduated from the University of Virginia School of Law. His initial plan was to practice law for 10 years and make enough money to retire and create puzzles full time.

But puzzles were his calling and he skipped the bar.

He went on to edit Games magazine for 15 years before moving over to The New York Times in 1993, where he added bylines for puzzle creators, who had worked without recognition, and made the puzzles increasingly more difficult throughout the week. He also expanded the use of cultural references to include movies, television and rock ’n’ roll.

Producing seven New York Times crosswords a week is a demanding task, Shortz said. He receives about 75 to 100 submissions every week from crossword creators. He looks at all of them and responds to everyone, whether their puzzle is accepted or not.

“Puzzles that are no good at all, I can tell in a few seconds, and ones that are fantastic, I can tell in a minute,” he said. “The ones in the middle I have to think about and play with a bit.”

The typical New York Times crossword asks 76 questions, and few puzzles sail through to publication untouched.

“I’m a very hands-on editor,” Shortz said. “On average, about half the clues in a New York Times crossword are mine. I am editing for accuracy, obviously, but also for the right level of difficulty.”

As anyone familiar with the puzzles in the Times can attest, they grow more difficult each day.

“At the end of the week, the clues should be tricky, misleading — but in a fun way,” Shortz said. “It’s like the punchline of a joke. You slap your head and think you should have seen that.”

Shortz has been to Hawaii only once before, in 2004, when he presided over his nephew’s wedding on Maui. Shortz isn’t a minister of any kind, and the wedding had already taken place in a Los Angeles County courthouse. This was just for show, Shortz said.

And, of course, that’s what he gave the bride and groom, puzzle style.

“I made a puzzle and incorporated their names, and every once in a while in my presentation, I left a blank that they could answer — if they could — and if they couldn’t, I threw it out to everyone else there,” Shortz said. “It was one of the most unusual wedding ceremonies ever.”