I started getting into electronics earlier this year. I came up with a problem I wanted to solve that I thought would have a fairly simple solution (because I thought I had the outline of it). Then I started breadboarding out parts of the circuit. Then things didn't work as I expected, so I tried different things, looked at a simulation, read more, etc. Then I decided it would be easier if I had slightly better gear, so I bought some. I'm still not done with my simple project.
I've learned a lot though. One of the most important things I learned is that having a known-good design, with known good but broken implementation (ie a used bench PSU that no longer works right) was much more engaging and motivating to me than flailing around with basic circuits. So, for now, I've put my attention to buying used lab equipment and fixing it.
I find that motivation is often the most mercurial part of learning. I like reading about the theoretical underpinnings of things, but for most of my adult life, I end up getting frustrated with myself if that theoretical understanding isn't serving another goal.
In my early 20s, I tried to learn C with the idea that I'd become a software developer (I'd dabbled in BASIC in my early teens, and done some Pascal programming as part of my Physics class), but that goal ended up being too vague and distant to get me to slog through the difficulties of learning enough about C, and event-loops, and the Macintosh Toolbox to actually get even a rudimentary program running "from scratch."
A few years later though, I had a problem that I could get paid to solve, and the only sensible way to solve it was by writing some software. I learned both enough Visual Basic and enough Perl to do what needed doing. A few years after that, I was again entertaining the idea of moving into software engineering, and I had some time free, so I came up with a project idea and started teaching myself java. Again, I didn't get to far, because again, the goal ended up being too remote to motivate me.
A couple years later, I'd given up on the idea of being a programmer, but I still wanted to gain more programming proficiency so I could make prototypes, and automate some data analysis. This time, I picked python and the Django framework. Between the two, it was pretty quick and easy to get something rudimentary working, and once it was working, it was easier to keep going. I'm still a fitfull programmer, but I'm finally to the point where I can start something from scratch and get to the point where it does enough to maintain my motivation.
I struggled through most of high school, but the classes I did best in were generally ones where I found people to study with. I did much better in college, in part because I had study partners in both of my classes. In retrospect, I realize that part of my motivation in those situations was collaborating with a peer, and one of the rewards of that collaboration was being able to practice and refine my knowledge by explaining things to my study partner. Similarly, if there was something I didn't get, I could get their help in getting over the hump.
Of course, the process of learning often isn't a continuous stream of steady rewards. There are times where you may have to grind your face against a cheese grater until you are raw, then get up and do it again the next day. As kids, this is often the dominant factor of learning. I think of how many times I failed to even come close to tying my shoe, or ride a bike before suddenly, almost overnight, I could do it. But as a kid, you are learning so much about so many different things, you don't really realize how hard it is, its all you know. Also, as a kid, you don't have much responsibility besides learning. Most parents aren't going to put their kid out on the street, without food or clothing, because the kid needs another month to learn to tie his or her shoes. For adults though, too much grinding your face against a cheese grater is discouraging. This one reason why (some) adults don't learn new things, because they feel like helpless children, which won't do, because they are adults.
So, my suggestion is: Think about what has motivated you in the past, and pay close attention to what motivates you now. Go with what works for you, not some abstract ideal that worked for someone else (or at least they think it did). Be patient with yourself. Don't beat yourself up because you are struggling. Just do the best you can, when you can, sleep on it, and then come back to it again -- this is actually a really important cycle in learning, struggling with something can, given some time and sub-concious processing, lead to breakthroughs, but only if you keep returning to the problem.
Some specific advice: There is nothing wrong with "writers block," not in and of itself. The mistake is to let it scare you away, or drive you mad. Instead recognize that "writer's block" is often a symptom of knowing and understanding less than you thought you did. I think the trick is to try and find the cracks and the edges of the block, to better understand the gaps in your understanding and your thinking. That can be frustrating and slow work, but its what leads to those epiphanies in the shower, those periods of productive flow.
There is an author named John McPhee. He has had a long, successful, career writing non-fiction. Most of it has appeared as long essays in the New Yorker before being collected and released as books. He said that his typical day involves getting up in the morning, having breakfast, etc, and then spending ~7 hours in his office, sharpening pencils, organizing papers, etc. Its only the last hour or so of the day where he actually sits down and writes. The thing is, he'd never get that hour of writing down without the ~7 hours of procrastinating and cogitating. Doing that 5 days a week has been enough to make him a productive and successful author. Other productive authors have different routines. I think the same is true of any creative/intellectual work.
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