We were lucky to catch up with Louise Goffin recently and have shared our conversation below.

Louise, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today What were some of the most unexpected problems you’ve faced in your career and how did you resolve those issues?

I think for me, the most unexpected problems that occur stem from not understanding the best use of time.
There’s a constant push and pull between needing to connect with people and be visible, but also conserving your energy and focus so you have the agency to do things for yourself in a way that elevates your work.

When I was younger I spent a lot more time chasing opportunities, believing the answers to what I wanted for my career were in someone else’s hands—some mysterious figure with power, in some other place, who held the key to my success.

Over time, I learned that whenever you leave the space of your creativity—by not tending to it—other people will happily come in and fill that space with delays, opinions, and agendas.

A manager once stopped me at a party as I got up to mingle, saying, “You don’t need to go anywhere—the party will come to you.”
We’re taught to hustle, to shout, “Look at me! Listen to my song!”
But when everyone is doing the same, the focus shifts to being seen rather than truly seeing, and artists risk depleting their energy.

If creatives go to these spaces without replenishing their inspiration, they can get downhearted.
I see it so often—not just in myself but in all the artists I know—the constant feeling of not working hard enough or meeting the right people, Always believing we’re the ones falling short. But nothing could be further from the truth.

As artists, we are the ones who are over-functioning, trapped in systems designed to keep us that way.
Algorithms convince us we’re not doing enough, not being applauded, and must work harder—all to keep us producing content that drives ad revenue for platforms.

So to you, I say: You are doing enough.
Your work matters.
You are being seen, even if it doesn’t feel like it.
Ignore the illusion, trust your work, and know it’s making an impact. At the time, I thought it was pure fantasy.

What I gradually learned is how much I love doing what I do for its own sake:
To learn, to grow, to get better.
To treat it all like a big experiment and see what happens.

There’s nothing to chase except an idea you nurture until it gains traction and takes on a life of its own.
At that point, it becomes bigger than you, and your only job is to nourish and protect it.

I think of my inner muse like a little kid who wants to play but will clam up if it senses I want to exploit it—to prove something to myself or the world.
If I get too strategic or self-serious, the muse simply runs out of the room and stops giving me fun ideas.
It’s too present-focused to spend time with people who are fixated on career plans.

The other day, I was in a room that doubles as a nursery school, and I saw a poster on the wall that I wish had been in my nursery school.
It said: “Don’t Grow Up—It’s a Trap.

Louise, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I’m a Brooklyn-born multi-instrumentalist and singer-songwriter brought to the Hollywood Hills of Los Angeles when I was eight, and raised in Laurel Canyon. Music has always been a refuge and a passion for me. Growing up in a uniquely vibrant and complex environment—my parents were renowned songwriters, divorced, and my father was bipolar – all of this led me to discover that music was a space where I could process life, explore ideas, and express myself freely.

I got into music because it was always around me, but over time, it became more than just something I did—it became a deeper personal necessity, much like breathing. I approach it with a kind of discipline and devotion that keeps me grounded.

I’m proud that I’ve turned obstacles into fuel to keep going harder and better. There’s that saying that when people are talking behind your back, it’s because they’re standing behind you. I love that. I’ve learned to trust the process and stay connected to what I love most about music, even when the path feels uncertain.

For people new to my work, I’d want them to know that I do what I do from a place of dedication, passion, and honesty. I’m not interested in creating a persona that isn’t true to my humanity. The truth makes a lyric powerful…even if the story is made up. The human experiences we all have are what connect us. I have a survival need to push myself to learn, grow, and experiment, treating each song as another opportunity to connect—not just with others, but with myself. Music is one of the most powerful ways to tell a story. I want my work to create a space where I feel seen, understood, and inspired while inviting my listeners to feel the same.

Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?

Non-creatives often approach the world in a way that focuses on what can be seen, tracked, or measured—things like opportunities, deals, or external achievements. This makes sense because so many structures we grow up with emphasize visible success: what college you attend, what job you get, and how much you earn. But for creatives, there’s another layer to the process that isn’t as easy to quantify.

The life force of creation exists in the imagination. It’s about giving space to ideas that aren’t immediately tangible or visible. Ignoring that dreaming side of ourselves to focus only on what’s in front of us can feel limiting, like playing that game where you slide squares around a board—you’re constantly rearranging within a small, confined space.

A metaphor I often think of is when one of my kids was three and loved trains. We would build sprawling tracks across the entire living room floor, creating expansive worlds without boundaries. Then one day, his dad thought it might be better to get a table for the trains, but the table was only a tenth of the size of the floor.

It was a practical solution, but it changed how the building happened. To me, it illustrates how different approaches shape the space for ideas. One way allows for growth and the other works within defined limits. Both approaches have their place—it’s just that for creatives, that full floor space is where ideas are able to come to life.

Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?

Learning to honor myself and my work, even when it means letting go of what things appear to be to fully embrace what they are—that has been a journey. There’s often a belief that you can somehow have it all—fully commit to your passion while keeping up with every idea of what a “normal” life should look like. But I’ve learned that being true to myself requires accepting the trade-offs that come with it. For example, to protect my creative life, I’ve had to make peace with the idea that I can’t be everything to everyone. Sometimes you have to draw a line in the sand and ask yourself: Can I do this and still love myself?
Can I stay in this situation and still honor who I am? If the answer is no, walking away becomes an act of strength and resilience.

For me, resilience is trusting that what I create and who I become are worth the losses and lessons. A beloved mentor once told me “Some lessons are more expensive than others—get your money’s worth!”

Contact Info:

• Website: Louisegoffin,com
• Instagram: louisegoffrnmusic
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/louisegoffinmusic/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/louise-goffin-singer-songwriter-producer-1b482925?trk=people-guest_people_search-card
• Twitter: @louisegoffin
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/woieuyfg
• Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/louisegoffinmusic

Image Credits

Jon Premosch Photography
except the third photo: a photo by mom