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Bill Glose

BILL GLOSE is an award-winning writer whose honors include the F. Scott Fitzgerald Short Story Award, the Virginia Press Association First Place Award for Sports News Writing, and the Morgantown Chapter Award for Poetry. He is the author of three books of poetry—Personal Geography (David Robert Books, 2016), Half a Man (FutureCycle Press, 2013), and The Human Touch (San Francisco Bay Press, 2007)—and editor of the story anthology, Ten Twisted Tales (San Francisco Bay Press, 2008).

Since 2003, he has been a contributing editor with Virginia Living and a regular contributor to other magazines. He appears frequently as a featured speaker on literary craft and serves as a judge in writing contests. Hundreds of his articles, short stories, and poems have appeared in numerous publications, some of which are shown at the right.

For a complete list of publication credits, click HERE.

PUBLICATION CREDITS INCLUDE:

Bill's latest book
“Innocence and experience, hope and cynicism are equally performed in these imagery rich, artfully crafted poems.”

      —Jane Ellen Glasser
author of The Red Coat, Light Persists, and others

The Writer Magazine

Homage to My Mentor
“Do you want to write,” he said, “or do you just want to be a writer?” The difference, he went on to explain, was that many people want to be known as a writer, to be some famous name that people talk about, but few are willing to do the work that good writing requires.

The Missouri Review, fall 2016

Four Poem Feature
"Among the Crenellations"
by Bill Glose

Like wolves in packs of four and five, they lope
along the avenue, these muscled men in gray shorts
and tees, hair shorn to bristles...

Southern Writers Magazine

No Comment
The Assignment sounded easy enough: a profile story on a super-heavyweight lawyer who wore a purple suit and diamond-studded Rolex to trial and alternated days driving his Ferrari and Rolls-Royce. Best of all, Max (not his real name) spoke his mind and spouted memorable quotes, especially on the topic of his favorite subject—himself.

Coastal Virginia Magazine

The Rise of Bria Kelly
Bria Kelly had prepared for this moment, but she was only seventeen and scared to death. In a few minutes, she would step onto stage to sing 90 seconds worth of music to four titans of the music industry...

Army Times

Sand Soccer Attracts Players with Grit
Short fields, no shoes, bikinied spectators. No wonder more than 6,000 athletes came to Virginia Beach for the largest single-weekend of sand soccer in the world.

Virginia Living

Racing for Glory
The four-minute mile: For decades it was one of sport’s mythical milestones, the standard by which all middle-distance runners were measured. The first person to break the four-minute barrier was Roger Bannister in 1954. “Doctors and scientists said that breaking the four-minute mile was impossible, that one would die in the attempt,” Bannister said. “Thus, when I got up from the track after collapsing at the finish line, I figured I was dead.”

Hampton Roads Magazine

Norfolk Scientists Zap Cancer
Sandy has skin cancer and will die. Sylvia has the same cancer—four melanomas on her skin— and will live. The difference? Electricity. Sylvia received two high-voltage treatments and is now a cancer-free mouse while Sandy, part of a control group, died within four days.

Maryland Super Lawyers

Chasing the Issue
"It's not my fault! My accountant filled in the form!" Caroline Ciraolo can't tell you how many meetings with new clients have begun with those words.

Southern Arts Journal

Poker Goes Mainstream
Twenty is a typical weeknight crowd for Manhattan's Deli and Pub in Newport News, Virginia, but tonight—a Tuesday—the Pocket Poker Aces League is hosting a poker tournament. It's only the second time they've appeared at this location, but word has already spread and tonight over 200 people pack inside.

Narrative Magazine, Winter 2013

Four Poem Feature
"Particles"
by Bill Glose

All smells are particulate. Think about that
as you march past burned trucks.

Upon melted seats are forms, blackened and shriveled
like banana peels left in the sun...

The Sun, March 2010

Walking Home
The guard at the park entrance regarded my driver’s license with skepticism. “This doesn’t look like you,” he said. He was right. My weight had nearly doubled in the nine years since the photo had been taken. Most mornings I barely recognized my own face in the mirror.