In our house, we have a picture similar to this one. In ours, however, there’s a dock on the lake with two empty Adirondack chairs and a table with two glasses of wine. I bought it several years ago because it gave me something to dream about, something to aim for when we retire, and it’s been on our wall ever since.
But when I glanced at it the other evening, I realized I’d forgotten something about evenings around a lake.
They’re not in the photo, but you can be sure they’re there. (I was going to insert a picture here of one of the little blood-suckers having a meal off someone but I just couldn’t stand to look at it.)
My little fantasy is ruined. Now when I look at the picture, all I hear is that annoying buzz in my ear.
Readers don’t want to think about the mosquitos either. Or your heroine’s lactose intolerance. Or how long it took them to clean their car after their best friend puked in it. (Yuck!) Most people read genre fiction for escape. They probably have mosquitos and lactose intolerance and even puking in their real lives. You know, the lives they want to escape from? So I think it’s safe to say we can leave out those annoying little details (unless they somehow play an important role in plot or character development).
Obviously, this doesn’t give us license to go completely into the realm of fantasy (unless, of course, you write that genre). Our job is to give our readers a world in which mysteries are solved by the end of the book, our lovers live happily ever after, and there are no mosquitos.