An Inspired Chat with Louie Love of Decatur

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Louie Love. Check out our conversation below.

Hi Louie, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: What are you being called to do now, that you may have been afraid of before?
When I was about thirteen, my family moved from Fort Huachuca, Arizona to Frankfurt, Germany. I had barely finished unpacking before I met a kid named Jameel Horton, who became my first friend and unofficial guide to life there. By week two, he walked me down to the outdoor basketball courts on the Platen Kaserne — the main hangout for every middle and high school kid on base.

Most of them were East Coast: New York fashion, New York energy, and New York hip-hop blasting from somebody’s speaker. Meanwhile, I showed up looking like I’d stepped out of a surf shop, still saying “fresh,” “rad,” and “bummer.” They roasted me, I fired back, and the vibe stayed cool…
right up until she walked up.

A popular girl looked me over, paused, and said with absolute confidence:
“Oh… you’re Louie Love? I thought you’d be somebody.”

There’s no comeback for that. I told Jameel I was heading home and left ten minutes later. But that moment stuck. It was the first time I realized my name would always enter the room before I did — and that I needed to become someone who lived up to it.

That idea has driven everything since: the training, the stage work, the late nights, the discipline, the skill-building no one sees. Brick by brick, I’ve been building a foundation strong enough to stand on.

And now I feel the pull toward film, television, and streaming — a transition I wasn’t ready for years ago. But the work is ready now. The craft is ready now.
I’m ready now.

I’m finally becoming the “somebody” that younger me hoped to be — not because of my name, but because I’ve grown into the artist who can carry it.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Louie Love — actor, creative producer, and writer, building toward work grounded in honest, character-driven storytelling. Born in Memphis, raised in Germany, and now based in Atlanta, I found my way into theatre after serving in the Air Force. Over the past several years, steady stage work and close collaborations have sharpened my craft and shaped my voice.

August Wilson’s work has been a compass along the way. I’ve performed in eight of his plays, and next April I’ll step into Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, leaving only Joe Turner’s Come and Gone before completing the full cycle. His world taught me to build characters from the inside out, uncovering the history they carry rather than adding what doesn’t belong.

Now I’m stepping into a new chapter: film, television, and streaming. The shift feels both new and overdue — earned. The foundation is there, the craft is ready, and I’m excited to bring years of lived-in stage experience to the screen while developing original projects and collaborations that align with the artist I’m becoming.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
My sister, Audra Edwards, has always seen me more clearly than I’ve ever seen myself. She’s the one who reminds me not to shrink, not to limit myself, and not to forget the gifts I was born with — the person who hands you a mirror and says, Look — this is who you are. Stop pretending you’re smaller than that.

Years ago, she wrote me a Christmas note using lines from Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go! — all about mountains waiting and paths worth taking — and it hit me harder than she probably realized. That letter became a reminder that the people who know you best often see the future you’re still hesitant to claim.

Her belief has shaped how I work, how I move through the world, and what I’m willing to reach for. And now, as an uncle to two boys who quietly watch the choices I make, that responsibility has a different weight. They don’t need the spotlight — they need an example. Someone committed to climbing his own mountain. And that keeps me honest, focused, and moving forward.

What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
One of the biggest wounds in my life happened in sixth grade. I did the work, I earned my move to seventh — and a teacher still made me feel like I didn’t deserve it. Not because of anything I did, but because she thought other kids had “struggled more.” This was the same year Arizona voted down the MLK holiday, and the whole atmosphere was tense. Adults said and did things they probably assumed kids wouldn’t catch. And that classroom moment stuck the hardest.

It planted this quiet belief that I had to prove everything twice. Even when I earned something fair and square, I felt like I had to defend it. I still say, ‘I have to be undeniably good,’ and it pushed me — made me disciplined, prepared — but it came from learning early that my best might not count unless it was impossible to deny.

I carried that weight for years without realizing it. During the George Floyd moment, things finally clicked. I started thinking about my nephews and the world they’re growing up in, and I finally caught it — how that old classroom memory had quietly shaped me. I realized how long I’d been living out someone else’s bias as if it were the truth about me.

I’m still unlearning it. I still catch myself wondering whether I’m “allowed” to want certain things or if I need to shrink to keep from upsetting anything. But I’m not ashamed of that wound anymore. It shaped my work ethic and how I move. And now it always reminds me: what’s meant for me doesn’t require anyone else’s permission.

Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
At my core, I believe the work tells the truth. If I stay focused, keep learning, and keep my head down and grind, everything else tends to fall into place. I try to walk into every room like an empty cup — ready to listen, ready to grow, not assuming I already know — but still ready to contribute and collaborate. That mindset keeps me steady, no matter how big the goal looks from the outside.

I’ve learned to love the process more than the attention around it. The grind, the discipline, the slow stacking of skill — that’s where the real payoff is. I remind myself that what I’m building only stops being possible if I stop. And those dreams that seem huge or intimidating? They only feel that way… right up until the moment I win.

These are the quiet rules I live by. I don’t say them out loud often — I just let them guide how I move.

Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
That he lived it.
That he made the hard choices even when no one was watching.
That he kept showing up — for himself, for the work, and for the people he loved.
He didn’t waste his talent — he used it, honored it, and built something real with it.
He grew, he adapted, and became the version of himself he was meant to be — not the one anyone else tried to script.

And for my nephews, I hope it’s even clearer:

He showed us what discipline and belief look like up close.
He always made space for us — our interests, our questions, our growth — no matter how full his plate was.

Because the truth is, this stopped being about me a long time ago. Every choice I’ve made, every level I’ve aimed for, every standard I’ve raised was about building a platform they could launch from — a head start, a signal that someone from our family faced doubt, burnout, and the long grind toward mastery and still choose to rise.

That’s the story I hope survives me:
A man who took his shot seriously.
A man who didn’t make excuses.
A man who left his family — especially the next generation — better equipped than he ever was.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm3425755/?ref_=ext_shr_lnk
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the2ndlove?igsh=dGNjNzJnMnZ4NHpl&utm_source=qr
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/louie-love-220b621b?utm_source=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=member_ios
• Twitter: https://x.com/the2ndlove?s=21&t=ieQww027WuIhHGo0WrvoQg
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/19k8KrP5wo/?mibextid=wwXIfr
• Youtube: https://youtube.com/@the2ndlove?si=AyiE3RY6b0EuufRW

Image Credits
Vandon Gibbs, Joshua Starr, Princess Starr, Benjamin Tincher, Amber Germain, Zolton Williams