the days are vessels

I am continuously encountering ideas of questionable quality. I started writing a play about Ayn Rand's doppelganger; a woman who, because of her devotion to selfless behavior, is condemned to a life of suffering. Unlike the real Ayn Rand, who was able to surround herself with lavish Art Deco opulence despite her complete lack of talent, this woman is an exceptionally brilliant individual. The project mocks Rand's treatment of the doppelganger myth in her own work. I feel as though it is falling apart. Perhaps it is turning into a story. Or just a series of images. Or, ideally, nothing at all.