While editing manuscripts, I often suggest revising sentences for more clarity or precision. A common reason is because the original version of the sentence had a “dangling modifier” or an uncertain “pronoun referent.” These terms might seem intimidating, but they don’t have to be.

In this post, I’ll offer examples of what modifiers and referents are, why they matter, and how you can make sure they’re working the way you want them to.

I’ll use some terminology for those who find the names of things helpful, but ultimately, you don’t need to worry about exact terms. Instead, think about what these sentences look like and how the words relate to each other. To be playful, we can think of words like Lego blocks: they snap together to build sentences and stories.  

What is a pronoun referent and why should I keep track of it?

In these examples, pronouns are bolded and referents are italicized.

I knocked into the vase and it fell over.

“It” is the pronoun. The “referent” – the noun that the pronoun refers to – is “the vase.” It’s that simple.

Keep in mind: a pronoun is usually assumed to refer to the last noun mentioned, provided that noun matches it in gender and number (and the reader knows both the gender and number).

My two-year-old daughter bumped into the bronze vase and she fell over, startled but uninjured.

There’s the noun “vase” in between, but “she” clearly refers to “my daughter.” (As I considered how knocking into a vase could make a person fall over, I had to assume the person is quite small and the vase is quite heavy – then I wanted to make clear this hypothetical person is unharmed by the incident!)

I tripped over a skateboard and knocked into a row of vases, but luckily none of them fell over.

So far, so good. What happens, though, when the pronoun could match any of multiple nouns?

I nudged the statue into the vase and it fell over.

Here, we assume the vase fell for two reasons: one, “vase” is the closest noun to “it.” Second, context: the statue has already been nudged, so we assume its fate is fully accounted for.

Readers can use context to make sense of sentences even when the pronoun isn’t close to its referent.

I took a fork from the drawer and stabbed her with it.

Since it’s implausible to stab someone with a drawer, readers assume the fork is my weapon. However, relying on context and “common sense” can get risky – readers are smart, but they can’t read your mind.

Harry was talking with Ricardo. I pulled at his sleeve to get his attention.

Whose attention? The proximity guideline makes “Ricardo” most likely, but neither is certain. We either need more context or for the sentences to be written differently.

I recently had an experience where “common sense” misled me even though the grammar was correct. Here’s a simplified, anonymized version of what I read:

They set out on a quest to rescue the prisoners. Only they can stop the traitor.

I misread “they” in the second sentence as referring to the same group of people as “they” in the first sentence. In fact, the identity of “they” changes—the prisoners, once the first group frees them, will be the ones to stop the traitor. Grammatically, the writer is correct. I still alerted them to my error and suggested they look at alternative phrasing in case other readers make the same mistake.

Overall, it’s easier for readers when you don’t let your pronoun referent get too far from the noun:

I knocked into the vase. It had been a long day, ending with the exhausting drive to my uncle’s mansion, and I never liked the blue-on-white design anyway. It fell over.

Logically, the reader knows the day, the mansion, and the design didn’t fall over. They still might need a second to catch up to what’s going on. While rambling like this can fit a conversational narrator (or in dialogue from a speaker with a flighty personality), be careful of testing the reader’s patience.

What’s a dangling modifier, why is it a problem, and how do I fix it?

In these examples, the modifier is italicized. The thing being modified is in bold…if it’s in there.

Knocked by my elbow, the vase fell over.

Here are two ways to spot modifiers and how they connect. First, assume the thing being modified is what immediately follows the modifier. Second, you can recast the sentence a bit by adding a to-be verb (like is, was, were, are): “the vase was knocked by my elbow.”

Antique Delftware that it would bankrupt my uncle to replace, the vase fell over.

“The vase was antique Delftware that it would bankrupt my uncle to replace.”

After cleaning the room, the maid brought the vase shards to my uncle.

Here, if you want to apply the “was” tip, look past the time-setting “after” – “The maid was cleaning the room” shows the modifier applies to the maid.

So when do modifiers dangle?

After cleaning the room, my uncle grumbled over the shards the maid brought him.

The maid was the one who cleaned the room, not my uncle, so things have gotten mismatched.

Knocking into the vase, it fell over.

“It” refers to the vase, and the vase didn’t knock into itself, so something has gone wrong here.

Knocking into the vase, I sent it crashing to the floor.

Yes, I have to own up to breaking the vase.

Keep in mind: modifiers modify. That is, they describe someone or something. You could think of them as elaborate adjectives (but only if that comparison makes this clearer for you).

While I was dusting, the vase was knocked over.

The second part of the sentence is passive, but none of it is incorrect. “While I was dusting” doesn’t describe the vase and it’s not supposed to, so all is well. (It’s a subordinate clause that describes the timing of the vase’s destruction.)

But if you remove “I was,” suddenly “dusting” has nothing to modify except some Delftware that can’t do housework:

While dusting, the vase was knocked over.

Now there’s a dangling modifier.

Because you weren’t answering your emails, Ricardo called.

The “because…” phrase isn’t a dangling modifier, it’s a subordinate clause.

Worried because you weren’t answering your emails, Ricardo called.

Now we have a modifier, and it isn’t dangling: Ricardo was worried.

Bonus tip: Not Simultaneous – that can’t all happen at once!

A related editing issue is the “Not Simultaneous problem.” I call it this thanks to the Turkey City Lexicon (a manual of terms originally used by the Turkey City science fiction writers’ workshop), which goes on to define it as “misuse of the present participle” related to “Ing Disease, the tendency to pepper sentences with words ending in -ing, a grammatical construction which tends to confuse the proper sequence of events.”

Or to put it more briefly: the writer says all this stuff is happening at the same time, but the reader can’t believe it.

Knocking the vase over, I ran upstairs to apologize to my uncle for ruining a piece of his collection.

At the moment the vase was falling to shatter on the floor, I was probably not already running up stairs and composing my apology.

It’s the “Ing Disease” that links Not Simultaneous problems and dangling modifiers. In both cases, for some reason, the -ing form makes it easy to get imprecise. This doesn’t mean you can never use words ending with -ing, but when you do, make sure they fit into the sentence correctly. Any kind of fuzziness is a risky habit to get into. It’s only a matter of time before you wind up saying something you don’t mean.

In general, my advice for Not Simultaneous issues is to break up the sentence. This stuff can’t all happen at once, and it doesn’t need to. “The vase hit the floor and shattered. Desperate to purge my guilt, I ran upstairs to apologize.”

I hope these tips leave you with no guilt to purge, but more confidence in your ability to build stories with words!

Interested in working with me to catch dangling modifiers or anything else? You can get a free sample edit of 1,000 words by filling out this form and learn more about my services here.