Back from the future

Science fiction writer Robert Silverberg was on the phone from his spacious home in the hills above Oakland, outlining his daily routine.

"I'm up at 5:30 or 6, but not willingly," he said. "By 8:30 I'm in my home office. I take a swim in the afternoon and I garden. We have about an acre of land."

Silverberg, 73, is one of the few remaining pioneers of the sci-fi genre. He appeared on the scene in the 1950s, when he was in his early 20s. He was much younger than the established giants such as Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke and Robert Heinlein, but his talent and professionalism gained their acceptance as a peer.

Silverberg's standing is certainly familiar to Kim Stanley Robinson, the awardwinning sci-fi author in Davis (the "Mars" and "Science in the Capital" series) and a historian of the genre. "Silverberg was a transitional figure who straddled two worlds - the straightforward storytelling coming out of the pulp magazines of the 1950s and the new wave of writers slightly younger than him who revolutionized science fiction in the 1960s," Robinson said.

The news here is that Silverberg's publisher, Subterranean Press, released in May "Something Wild Is Loose: 1969-72" ($35, 408 pages), the third of an anticipated nine volumes of his short fiction.

"I've been writing for 55 years," he said in a voice so cultured it could be the template for an elocution class. "(This series) will make it possible for me to say to readers, 'This is how science fiction has changed, it's how I changed.' "

Wait a minute...Nine volumes of short stories? That reminds us that Silverberg is likely one of the most prolific writers to ever tell a tale. His bibliography is daunting: nearly 300 novels and 600 works of short fiction, along with 100 nonfiction books. He has edited 100 anthologies and published in 100 magazines.

Then there are the hundreds of reviews and editorials, introductions and afterwords. And that list is assuredly incomplete. In one four-year stretch during the start of his career, he wrote 1 million words a year. So as not to overdose the reading public with his name, his editors suggested that he adopt pseudonyms. He ended up with more than 50 of them. "When people ask, 'How did you write that much?' I say, 'I did it one word at a time.' "

Silverberg has won every major sci-fi award. In 2004 he was named a Damon Knight Memorial Grand Master by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, the ultimate accolade.

An early start Just how did all this come about? The Brooklyn-born Silverberg began writing sci-fi stories as a child. Later, he was working toward a bachelor's degree in literature at Columbia University when he published his first novel in 1955. The next year, he was awarded his first Hugo for "most promising new science fiction author."

Dramatic stuff for a student, and it got even better.

"I was still in college when (sci-fi writer) Randall Garrett (the 'Lord Darcy' series) moved in to the apartment next door," he said. "Garrett said to me, 'I'm a professional writer with a lot of experience. I think we could work together. You are very disciplined, I amnot.'

"It worked out beautifully for two or three years," Silverberg said. "When he would fall asleep at his typewriter because he'd been up all night drinking, I would pick up the manuscript and continue writing.

"Eventually I got married," Silverberg mused, "and my wife said, 'That man is not going to enter this house.' "

The years in which sci-fi was being shaped were exhilarating, Silverberg recalled. "There I was, this hyperactive young writer in the midst of all the great science fiction writers, who accepted me as a colleague," he recalled with some pride. "I can list on one hand the famous science fiction writers I never met."

Reinventing himself - twice There's a story about Silverberg that has floated around for decades, about why he quit science fiction twice in his career and then returned to it.

"Essentially, it left me in 1959," he explained. "Most of the magazines I wrote for began collapsing, and the surviving ones were timid. So I found something else to do that was more rewarding to me artistically."