Good Girl - Mimi Collins discusses the deeply personal inspiration behind Good Girl.

Writer and performer Mimi Collins makes her Edinburgh Fringe debut with Good Girl, a funny, heartbreaking and deeply personal show exploring infidelity, emotional collapse and the unexpected care found within the world of BDSM and kink. After Alix discovers her husband has been unfaithful, she becomes determined to save their marriage, but as years of lies begin to unravel, she finds herself searching for self-worth in increasingly unexpected places. Exploring shame, desire and the reasons people remain in relationships long after they stop feeling safe, the show offers an unflinching look at love and survival. We caught up with Mimi Collins to find out more.

The title Good Girl takes on a very different meaning as the story unfolds. When did you realise it captured the journey you wanted to tell?

It was late in the journey when I realised the significance of the title. The title simply was what it was. It came naturally and felt right. And as the piece unfolded - specifically as others began to read and experience and be affected by it, I realised how many more layers it contained. More so than with other plays, the audience is incredibly significant. They are, for all intents and purposes, my scene partner. What they take from the piece and what they give me back is crucial to my understanding of it. So only once I got them in - first in the readings, and then at previews - was I able to fully discover what the show really is.

Alix spends much of the play trying to repair something that is no longer entirely within her control. What interested you about writing a character who keeps believing the next compromise might be enough?

The interest in writing about Alix’s experience was largely in attempting to understand it myself. When you react differently to an experience than you anticipate, it rocks your sense of self. If I was wrong about myself in this aspect, what else don’t I know about myself?

So many more questions follow, and almost no answers. I think the beginning of the piece was me looking for those answers. And as I found them, I realized how many other people were very likely asking the exact same question. 

The show contrasts a marriage built on secrecy with a community that places such importance on honesty and consent. Was that contrast something you noticed in real life before it became part of the play?

The real-life observations of the differences in communication between a traditional marriage and the kink community were probably what most demanded the play be written. It was such an eye-opening thing to experience, and I wanted so badly to share what I was learning and feeling. So, I did exactly that, the only way I knew how.

The story moves between moments of raw confession and dark comedy. Were there scenes where you found the humour first, and others where it emerged much later?

If we don’t laugh, we cry. The humour was always present throughout this story, because that is such a core crutch of mine throughout life. I have a very hard time not saying the joke when there is a joke to say. And while I don’t think that’s ever more welcome than when things are hard, the challenge here was actually more in culling some jokes and letting some of the more tender and painful moments have their space. 

Alix's decision to post a nude photograph online feels like an impulsive act, but it changes the course of her life. Did that moment always sit at the centre of the story?

Absolutely, the story has always existed as “before nude” and “after nude.” It was a very impulsive decision, but looking back felt inevitable. Maybe not posting a nude, specifically, but certainly something big and brash and seemingly out of character. It’s interesting to then examine a real-life pivot-point like that from a story perspective; it brings into sharp focus the cause and consequence of such an act - because they were also real-life moments.

Most people will tell you not to lean too much on the reality of the situation when trying to write a based-on-a-true-story piece. And I agree with that sentiment entirely. However, this story was an exception. This story demanded that reality be preserved. And I’m so glad it did.

You're performing a character inspired by your own experiences while exposing her blind spots and poor decisions. Did that make writing the play more liberating or more daunting?

Creating a character based on myself - warts and all - was incredibly liberating to write. When I stopped trying to fictionalise and “storify” the piece, it was simple and freeing. It was enough on its own. I was enough on my own. And my faults allow others to connect with the piece, to feel seen and welcome and free. That said, performing is a different beast. Performing this character is hard. There is a cost to it. She is me, but she isn’t. Nobody can go through these experiences and not change dramatically. I know Alix, and I love her, but I don’t always recognize her. And I desperately wish I could give her a hug. 

I also wish I could say that I figured out how to deal with this, but I haven’t. I don’t have a solve. I have simply recognized and accepted that this is going to be hard. That said, I have a really great support system; the story deserves to be told, and, most importantly, I can do hard things.

Bespoke Plays exists to champion new writing and reduce barriers for playwrights. Has running that organisation influenced the way you've approached your own work as a writer?

Running the organisation has absolutely influenced my understanding of what’s possible on stage. I’ve become so much more creative and resourceful, and that’s allowed me to push my own pieces further beyond what I would have previously assumed to be the limitations of stage.

Good Girl will be performed at10:20pm at Gilded Balloon Patter House from 5^th to 31^st August.

Booking link: https://tickets.gildedballoon.co.uk/event/14:7082/