Developing stories

We all have our stories to tell. I just hope I don't have only one. 
That's the storyteller's biggest concern. Unless you're particularly gifted or happen to be the reincarnation of William Faulkner, able to tell the same story several times over in marginally differing ways, you have to try to vary your work. Becoming marginalized is the worst sort of fate the writer can have--not unlike being typecast as an actor. Look at Al Pacino and tell me you don't think Montana every time he's on screen. Cop? It's close. Satan? Not too far away, in the grand scheme of things. But he'll always be Tony Montana to me. 
My current project is a graphic novel set in a small rural town not unlike the one I lived in from 1997-2001. This place is the setting for most of my adolescent development, my high school years. It's where I had my first kiss. It's where I learned that girls can be heartless. In the winter, the snow comes down in heaps so thick you breathe them in and they sting. To be very honest, I hated living there. But this place elicits from me an emotional response. From it, stories can be extracted like marrow, retold not for the nostalgia of it all, but for artifice of creation, to say something.  I've no indelible memory of the place, it is, rather, transient, shifting images that swirl around until one or two come out to paper (or, in this case, to screen). I wish to say more about the project at the moment, but I've been sworn to secrecy. 
You can check out our website (where the magic happens) here:  
Wife is calling, until next time,