There are writers who tell stories, and then there are writers who open doors you’re not entirely sure you should walk through. Maliha Rao belongs firmly in the second category.
Born and based in Karachi, Maliha writes speculative fiction that lives at the deliciously uneasy intersection of South Asian folklore and the fantastically strange. In her world, jinn wrestle with existential dread, ghosts hold grudges like heirlooms, and monsters don’t simply terrorise, they giggle. Her horror doesn’t rely on cheap jump scares. It lingers. It tilts its head. It smiles at you with something slightly off about its teeth.
But here’s what makes her particularly compelling: by day, she is a seasoned digital communication expert with over two decades of experience in advertising, concept building, and brand storytelling. A graduate of Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture, she has spent years shaping narratives for brands. By night, or perhaps more accurately, by obsession, she shapes entirely new worlds. Her debut folkloric horror collection, Dark Tales of Wonder, published in October 2025 by Liberty Publishing, marks a bold step in carving space for speculative fiction within Pakistan’s literary landscape.
Maliha’s imagination was never confined to a single shelf. Alongside western favourites like The Lord of the Rings, Fear Street, and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, she devoured Tilism-e-Hoshruba and Arabian Nights in Urdu, absorbing epics of magic, trickery, and impossible worlds. That dual inheritance, global fantasy and deeply rooted South Asian lore, now forms the spine of her writing.
What’s perhaps even more striking is that Maliha is not simply writing strange stories, she’s building the ecosystem she wishes existed. In a publishing space where speculative fiction is still treated as niche, she runs writing circles, connects authors and illustrators, and creates spaces without gatekeeping. She understands that in Pakistan, being an author means being your own publicist, strategist, and community builder. And she leans into that with the same creative energy she brings to her monsters!
She describes herself as a hardcore Karachi person, with the obligatory love hate relationship with the city. She lives with too many books, a few spoiled cats, and an unwavering urge to create something beautifully unsettling.
In this conversation with FLWL, we talk about folklore, fear, publishing realities in Pakistan, AI, community building, and why sometimes the most powerful horror stories are the ones that grin instead of scream.
Can you walk us through the publishing process in Pakistan from your own experience…what surprised you most once you were inside it?
From my experience, publishing in Pakistan, especially in English, is still a growing space. We do have stronger traditional publishing structures in Urdu and regional languages, but for English, there are very few proper traditional publishers, so a lot of what you see is vanity publishing.
That also means if you’re an Indie author and you have the budget, getting published isn’t necessarily the hardest part. What surprised me most once I was inside it was how little visibility speculative fiction still gets. Even traditional publishers can be hesitant to take it on, so I genuinely feel lucky I had an editor who believed in my book and gave it a real chance. And honestly, another big learning was that authors still have to do most of their own marketing. It’s tough out there, even with a publisher.
How welcoming is the local publishing scene to speculative fiction, especially horror, which still sits outside the literary mainstream here?
Honestly, it’s slowly getting better, but it’s still not fully welcoming yet. Speculative fiction, especially horror, is often seen as niche here, so it doesn’t always get taken as seriously as literary or contemporary fiction. That said, there is definitely a growing reader base, and more writers are experimenting with the genre. Speculative fiction globally is gaining so much momentum right now, which makes me really happy, but South Asia definitely needs more visibility and support. I think the demand is there, we just need more publishers and platforms willing to take bigger chances and give these stories real space.
As a writer based in Karachi, how accessible are editors, publishers, and literary networks compared to authors working abroad?
Honestly, it’s not easy at all. Most people I come across have no clue about the publishing process, so I spent over a year doing my homework on who to approach and where I could publish. Literary festivals here also don’t do as much for new or aspiring authors as they could. There aren’t proper platforms where editors and publishers actively connect with people who have questions about the industry, like you see at WorldCon.
That’s part of why I’ve started building a community of authors, readers, and creatives. I run writing circles, connect authors, illustrators, and other collaborators, and try to make it a space without gatekeeping. It’s growing slowly, but it’s exciting to see people genuinely want to contribute and support each other.
From your perspective, what are the structural gaps in Pakistan’s publishing ecosystem that make it harder for new voices to emerge?
I think the main gap in Pakistan’s publishing scene is that we simply don’t have enough traditional publishing houses. That makes it harder for new voices to emerge. There are also very few platforms to celebrate or support new authors, so we keep hearing the same names over and over. Most new writers don’t know how to market themselves, and publishers often don’t have the expertise to do it for them, especially for niche genres. I had to handle almost all of my marketing myself, which I could do because of my background in communication, but that’s not something every author can do. The industry needs to grow and invest in proper marketing and PR strategies so new voices can get the visibility and support they deserve.
How does writing horror rooted in Pakistani folklore challenge existing ideas of what “Pakistani literature” is supposed to look like?
Writing horror rooted in Pakistani folklore automatically challenges what people expect “Pakistani literature” to be, because for the longest time, anything speculative was seen as not serious or not literary enough. Even globally, speculative fiction has only recently started getting the kind of recognition it deserves, especially in the last decade, and I really hope Pakistan catches up to that shift too.
For me, using folklore and mythology in horror is also a way of showing that our stories can be strange, dark, magical, and still deeply human. I don’t even limit myself to just horror, I prefer calling it speculative fiction because I’m drawn to dark fantasy, fairy lore, wizards, and even the idea of humanizing demons. It expands the idea of what Pakistani literature can look like, beyond just one style or one “acceptable” theme.
How much of the work of being an author in Pakistan happens outside writing – marketing, community-building, explaining your genre?
Honestly, a huge amount of it happens outside the writing. In Pakistan, you’re not just the author, you’re also your own marketing team, PR person, and sometimes even your own event planner.
A lot of the work is also explaining your genre, especially if you write speculative fiction or horror, because people still don’t always know how to place it. Community-building becomes just as important too, because support systems aren’t built in, so you end up creating your own network to grow as a writer and help others along the way.
What advice would you give to Pakistani writers who want to write boldly weird stories but are unsure there’s a market for them?
My biggest advice is don’t restrict yourself, in any way. Write your first draft with zero pressure, don’t worry about spelling, grammar, structure, or whether it’s good or bad. Just get it out. You can always edit the hell out of it later, that’s where the story really comes to life. And don’t hold back on the weirdness either. Your readers are out there, someone is going to love what you’re writing. Just be mindful with sensitive cultural and religious topics, but otherwise, let the words flow.
From your perspective, what can AI never replicate about human storytelling, especially in horror and the uncanny?
AI can copy patterns, but it can’t replicate lived experience. In speculative fiction, especially darker stories like horror and dark fantasy, the most powerful moments come from real emotion, cultural context, and that instinctive feeling of “something is off” that you can’t always explain. Most importantly, every writer has a tone and a style, and that voice comes from the soul and passion of the person writing. AI can imitate structure, but it can’t recreate that emotional truth or the intention behind every sentence.
How do you think emerging writers should navigate AI…avoid it entirely, use it critically, or learn to define themselves against it?
Writers need to understand that AI isn’t a crutch, and it’s not something you should use blindly. If you’re a passionate writer, you’re not going to let someone else tell your story, so why would you let AI do it for you? I think it’s fine to use it critically as a support tool, like for brainstorming, quick research, or understanding certain terms and phrases. But you shouldn’t use it to write the actual story. That’s your job, and it should be the part you’re most excited about.
Growing up in Karachi, were there any childhood experiences – stories, places, or genuinely spooky moments that still haunt their way into your writing?
As a child, I never had truly scary experiences, but my elders didn’t hold back when sharing spooky stories with us. They’d tell tales of churails, karsaaz dulhan, all koti, and other urban legends, and instead of being scared, we’d get excited. I think being exposed to these stories really sparked my imagination. Karachi has its own set of urban legends, maybe not as many as older cities like Lahore, but plenty of intriguing stories and places. I’ve always been curious about stories, and that curiosity stayed with me, shaping the way I collect and retell folklore in my writing today.
Do you believe writers of horror are simply better at paying attention to the weirdness everyone else ignores?
I think speculative fiction writers in general are drawn to conspiracies, lore, and strange ideas, and that’s what makes our writing exciting. We’re not just open to the unusual, we love creating the impossible. The most exciting part is letting go of the box entirely and fully embracing the weird, the uncanny, and the unbelievable. Like, I totally believe in unicorns and dragons.
What are you currently up to Maliha – do you have any projects, or a second book perhaps, in the pipeline?
Right now, I’m working on a few projects at once. I’m building more community spaces for writers through writing circles and creative sessions, and I’m also developing new speculative fiction ideas that blend folklore, horror, and dark fantasy. I’m working on a series of novellas as well as a complete novel, which may or may not turn into a series. It’s shaping up to be a mix of dark fantasy, whimsical horror and weird fiction. And maybe, just maybe, Dark Tales of Wonder will get a volume 2, but time will tell.