Think of it like tuning an amplifier: the supernatural can be turned up or down, but empathy is the input signal. If empathy is strong, you can crank the weirdness to
Eleven and it still feels grounded. I usually start from the character’s immediate need — not the prophecy or the apocalypse, but the broken relationship, the job loss, the fear of being invisible — then make the supernatural challenge intersect with that need.
On the craft side, I use rules to prevent the supernatural from becoming a deus ex machina. Rules create tension: what can the ghost do, and what can't it? Limits force characters to improvise, revealing who they are. I also alternate big set pieces with quiet, character-driven moments so the reader catches their breath and re-centers on emotion. Examples like 'Buffy
the vampire Slayer' and 'Stranger Things' do this well — huge monsters with very human losses at their core.
Another tactic is to show consequences that affect ordinary life, not just cosmic order. When a spell costs a memory, when a possession ruins a career, the stakes become empathetic. I love using secondary characters to mirror the protagonist’s emotional truth; their reactions make the protagonist’s choices readable and real. In my drafts, scenes that balance showy supernatural moments with small, raw human beats are the ones that survive revisions, and that’s always satisfying to see.