Canadian

Pay What You Can: A Ciné Sinclaire First

Today, we are so proud to announce that all original Ciné Sinclaire content will be available on a Pay-What-You-Can (PWYC) basis. You can even go try it out right this second!

We’ve been working toward this since we launched two years ago, knowing full well that our rigid pricing structure leaves many of our films out of the very hands of the people that we are representing.

Pricing starts at $1, which we realize is still a barrier for some people – but this is the smallest amount that our credit card processor will allow us to charge. Users will see a few options at checkout. There is a highlighted green option showing the suggested price of the film, and two other pricing options – half and double the suggested price. These options are meant to be for those that just want to click an option quickly, but there is also the option to fill in a custom amount if you’ve got the time.

Suggested prices are based on performer pay, set rentals, gear, crew, and general cost of production (down to the food we have on set to make sure everyone is energized and nourished). It costs money to make porn – especially porn that makes its performers a priority.

Ciné Sinclaire logo

With this change also comes a streamlining of the checkout process. We’re getting rid of subscriptions, and all films will be streaming-only. This way, you’re on your way to a sexy movie super fast, for the price you can pay.

If you’re looking for a guideline on how much to pay, consider your economic situation.

If you’re the kind of person that can head out and buy pretty much anything that you *need*, you should look at paying more to offset those that can’t pay as much. If you’re someone that can go out and buy anything you *want* at any time, you should probably pay a fair amount more. If you’re someone that has trouble making rent, feeding yourself, doing any kind of social activity, making bus fare/paying for a pass, etc, then you should absolutely pay less.

Our work is queer, our sets strive to be non-oppressive, we’re woman-run, we’re anti-capitalist (while acknowledging we live in a capitalist society and folks have gotta eat), and we’re so ready to step into the pricing system that just *feels right* to us.

Go try it out now!

Paying for your porn is sexy. ❤

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Ciné Sinclaire’s Curated Clip Store – Call for submissions!

Do you make porn? AWESOME! Are you Canadian? EVEN BETTER! Not Canadian? Read on, you may also fit in here.

CinéSinclaire.com is a porn site with emphasis on the experience of fucking/sex/intimacy. Performers guide shoots through their own boundaries, wants, desires, and consent. We are launching this Spring with a catalogue of our own films produced by Kate Sinclaire, and a clip store of content produced by others. We are intersectionally feminist, and prioritize the inclusion of groups of people that are traditionally underrepresented in porn, or that are traditionally not given space for their own narratives.

We will be implementing a curated clip store section of our site. We’re paying specific attention to Canadian producers, but are happy to view work from anywhere in the world! If you’d like to submit some of your own work to be hosted on our clip store, we need a few things from you:

-The file in final high res quality: 1080p is great, or whatever the largest file size you have is. Please send in MP4 (H.264+AAC) format.
-A 20-40 second trailer to promote the piece, again in the same formats above.
US 2257 forms for all performers featured in your work. This includes everyone that appears in the film, whether they are active participants or not.
This form, filled out, giving Cine Sinclaire permission to distribute your film, and stating that you have the rights to distribute the film. If you did not produce the film personally, you must obtain permission from the original producer. Cine Sinclaire and Cherrystems Media will not claim responsibility for distributing films that are not owned by the person that submits them, and legal action can be taken against the submitter if the rights do not belong to them, for misleading Ciné Sinclaire AND for violating copyright of the original producer.
-Send all information to kate@cherrystems.com, and send all files to the same dropbox. Not all films will be eligible for the clip store – we will select films based on quality. In doubt? Submit and see! Anything not accepted will be politely returned with encouragement to create more, and the work will not be featured in any way on Ciné Sinclaire.

Hooray! It’s that easy! Now, how does the payment work?

Payment will be distributed to the party that submits the film to Ciné Sinclaire when a certain profit level is reached. To begin, this pay out level will be in $50 increments or monthly (if film is making more than $50 profit per month, that month will be paid all at once. If it takes a film longer than a month to make $50 profit, pay will be sent out when the film makes $50) and will be online-based. Ciné Sinclaire will take a 40% cut of the sale of each film to cover bandwidth, maintenance, processing fees, and customer service. The remaining 60% will be given to the party that submits the film. A minimum price will be suggested based on length of the film, but producers are free to otherwise name their own price for their work.

Can I have my own store?

This option is coming down the road, but for now, users will indeed be able to search the Ciné Sinclaire clip store by production company/producer, as well as by performer and various tags! You can host all your own work in one spot without worrying about all the time and cost of building a website! Yay!

When does it launch?

We’re just finishing up final details of the design now, so the rest is really just waiting on various things to be implemented/go through. We’re ideally hoping for April/May 2015 at this point! Speed bumps happen. 😉

Let’s make amazing things happen together!

The road.

I’ve been working in travel since I was 20 years old. This year, I’m celebrating my 30th birthday.

I’ve spent 10 years of my life on the road, and it’s definitely catching up to me. Think about that a bit. 10 years of my life, I’ve been nomadic half of the time. Sleeping on trains, airplanes, in hotels, on couches, air mattresses, and quiet corners of airports and bus terminals.

I can't actually sleep on airplanes. Even with first class upgrades (bring presents for your flight crew, kids).

I can’t actually sleep on airplanes. Even with first class upgrades (bring presents for your flight crew, kids).

The half of the time that I spend at home has always been treasured. I live in a small(er) city in the middle of a vast country. We’re essentially cut off from the stress of big(ger) city living. If you don’t know about my 700,000-strong hometown of Winnipeg, you can read all about it here on the internet. Our housing prices are reasonable, and so I am a homeowner without having to sacrifice lifestyle or time dedicated to my hobbies (like the pornz).

My home has always had to be the most comfortable place in the world for me. Back in 2005, when I was getting started on this whole travel gig, I was single-ish (one of those relationships you know isn’t going to be super long, but it’s nice at the time), and coming to grips with leaving town for 5 days about 4 times a month. And then I worked my first trip. I was an attendant on board the Canadian – the transcontinental train that goes from Toronto to Vancouver. We worked 18 hour days while we were working, with 6 hours off in which you were to wash yourself (even just a bird bath), sleep, and then also get ready in the morning. All in these wee tiny on board compartments. Sometimes you’d get a bigger compartment to sleep in, but that was rare. It was usually a 1-bed room (and when the bed is down, that’s it, there is no more room) or a berth with a curtain separating you from the rest of the train.

One of the times I had a larger compartment. And some trees. They look like the ones around Jasper National Park.

The beds weren’t that bad, honestly, and I got used to the gentle rocking of the train putting me to sleep. I kinda liked it. Pair that with the fact that I fell asleep with headphones in listening to Radical Face, and you’ve got a pleasant sleeping locale. The trouble was the length of time we were allotted to sleep. At best, for years, I’d get 5 hours of sleep. Usually, it was the kind where you close your eyes, completely exhausted, and open them again to find that 5 hours have passed and your alarm is going off. I would routinely pass out on a milk crate in a locked kitchen somewhere.

And so home has always had to be exactly what I needed it to be. I bought my single ass a fucking amazing king sized bed for those days that I was at home. Is home really still home if I was spending 20 out of 30 days of the month on a train? Yes. So much yes.

This was home.

 

I lived by myself in a 1-bedroom apartment in the French quarter (I am a speaker of the French language and a haver of the heritage) – the third floor of a three-storey walkup. At 20, this was my third apartment, and the first that truly felt like home.

This little place on Enfield. I was almost never there, but it was where my favourite memories were made.

This was the first place I’d felt comfortable enough to call home. 

And there in that comfort, my story really came together. I made Cherrystems on that shitty folding chair on a computer I spent most of my life away to afford. We shot almost all of the early sets in that living room, or kitchen, or bedroom. I met Aaron shortly after moving in, though I decided to take some of his friends here for some nights before considering that he could be every single thing I needed in a partner. He moved to Malaysia for a while, where he worked for a women’s rights organization as a developer, I kept falling home here and cultivated a small following of amazing folks ready to change the city. Amazing how a space can sit empty for so long, but mean so much.

I continued to drag all my luggage up that three-storey walkup for four years. But I wasn’t happy just being away for 20 days a month. No, sometimes I’d end up with a week off near the end of the month, and I’d get my ass back on the fucking train and go as a passenger. They fed me there, and I had a place to sleep, and I was out and experiencing. I went to Halifax, Montreal, Vancouver, Toronto, and stops in between – all before I was 22. I scattered myself out as far as I could, letting home be a place that I still had. I can’t tell you what a privilege that was and is. Without even the concept of that place, I don’t know how I would have held my shit together.

They don't have these in the prairies.

They don’t have these in the prairies.

The train was mostly full of older folks from around the world. I learned from them constantly. I learned the good things, I learned about the people I wanted to become, and the people I learned the most about were the ones whose stories repulsed me – racists, bigots, etc, etc, etc. I spent 5 years at that job, being a tour guide for Canada, telling the real stories of Canada’s colonization, even if it was uncomfortable for 65 year old Europeans to stomach.

Things changed slightly when Aaron and I decided that we would become a partnership. We decided we’d move in together, but both our places were too small. We moved. I left the place that I felt at home in. We spent two years in a place I hated. During that time, however, I also switched jobs. I left the train behind and took to the sky.

My travel options increased drastically. Suddenly, a two day trip took two hours. The world opened.

A bestie of mine joined me on a 3-day layover in Barbados.

A bestie of mine joined me on a 3-day layover in Barbados.

One of the wonderful things I’ll say about the relationship that I have with Aaron is that I have always worked on the road while dating/living with/being married to him. We have never known life any other way. Other people I would date would take it personally when I got called out to go somewhere. They’d feel jilted that I was never in town, and I completely understand that. I was off having adventures while they were “stuck” at home. They were travellers too, but couldn’t do it nearly as much as I was able to.

My layovers were never, ever, spent in my hotel room. I learned the layouts of cities. I am proficient in the transit systems of Victoria, Vancouver, Kelowna, Prince George, Calgary, Edmonton, Saskatoon, Thunder Bay, Toronto, Montreal, Quebec City, Halifax, New York, Washington, Boston, Orlando, Fort Lauderdale, Miami, Nashville, San Francisco, LA, Seattle, and the highways of countless other places where I’ve rented a car because of lack of transit services. I’ve driven the interior of the US and been to fucking weird little motels that wouldn’t let me stay there because I wasn’t married to my partner.

I climbed a hill in St. John’s, Newfoundland, and met a person that became a great friend. He also worked in travel in a way – for a traveling acrobatic circus called the Cirque du Soleil. I’ve met people on hills, in bars, on bikes, in seats, and learned a little bit from each one.

This is backstage at a Cirque du Soleil show in my hometown. A direct result of climbing Signal Hill in St. John's, Newfoundland and making a friend.

This is backstage at a Cirque du Soleil show in my hometown. A direct result of climbing Signal Hill in St. John’s, Newfoundland and making a friend.

There’s honestly no lesson to be learned either way from my life. I managed to get a Bachelor of Arts somewhere in all the mess of not being home, but I managed it.

Glamorous Prince George, BC. I actually fucking love it there.

Glamorous Prince George, BC. I actually fucking love it there.

I’ll post more individual stories about the people and experiences I’ve had along the way, but for now, this post is probably long enough.

The Polyphonic Spree was playing while I was on a layover in Vancouver.

The Polyphonic Spree was playing while I was on a layover in Vancouver. So I went.

Is there anything you’d like me to address, cover, or recount? Let me know in the comments and I’ll think about it. When I’m home.