Need a word count calendar for NaNoWriMo 2017?

The first batch of desktop wallpaper calendars are ready! Featuring word counts for 50k, 75k, and 100k goals. They’re 2560 x 1440 resolution, but there’s enough space on either side that they should fit most computer screens. 

“I’m so glad we all get to do this,” Bitty said, making sure Alexei knew now that everything was all okay. Out of habit, he slid into the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

Alexei was having none of it. He pointed a big finger at one of the stools by the island. “You can sit butt down and be pretty,” he said. “I always do that for you before, now is your turn.”

Bitty felt his face go warm. “I- well, if that isn’t the nicest thing,” he said, because it was, and if he tried to say anything else, he was absolutely positive that it would be embarrassing. He hopped up on a stool, and smiled as Kent wordlessly passed him a pair of molded icepacks. He let the packs sit on his hands, bracing for the sharp ache of the cold before his wrists got used to it. The first few minutes were never fun, but the respite from the pain was always welcome.

“Thanks honey,” he said to Kent, then turned back to Alexei. “Whatcha makin’, sweetie?”

Alexei pulled his head out of the fridge, arms full of ingredients. “Blini,” he said. “Mama’s recipe. She get from her mama, and she teach me when I’m little.”

Kent snorted. “You were little? Like, there was a time where that was a thing?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Alexei said, but it was with such fondness that all of the scolding was completely lost. “Come here, you. Instead of running mouth, you help set table.”

Kent arched a perfectly done brow. “Lyosha, I don’t have a dining table and you know it.”

“Pffh,” Alexei huffed, waving a hand as he scooped thick farmer’s cheese into a cheese cloth, squeezing out the extra water. Bitty couldn’t help but watch carefully. Someday, his wrists would be better, and he could cook again, and he wanted to soak up this new culinary information.

“What? I’ve never needed one!”

“We make sure you have one when Mama Mashkova and Babushka come visit,” Alexei said. “Have proper family dinner.”

“My blood runs thick with coffee,” other writers say.

“I’d be dead if that happened, probably,” I reply.

Muse: *shrugs*

Me:

Muse: