It's against this backdrop that Bill Jemas could dismiss creator-ownership and make such cavalier statements as "This is really about creator freedom and compensation much more than creator rights, the deal is right in line if not more favorable than what the other companies offer for 'creator owned properties.' " And why not? He's a man at the top of the Direct Market, speaking to journalists covering the Direct Market in order to reach readers and potential contributors whose only real world of commerce is the Direct Market. Never mind that he's offering a pittance in exchange for a lion's share; he's speaking to the faithful, secure in the knowledge that they'll be happy to serve. Why shouldn't he act like he's holding all the cards?

Answer: because he's attempting to enter the bookstore market, where his cards are far less valuable.

The booksellers market is not the Direct Market. It's a sprawling, decentralized network of competing publishers, distributors and retailers, none of whom hold more than a fraction of marketshare, and all of whom compete with one another to bring the next bestseller to the top of the charts — and more importantly, to maintain a backlist of perrenial sellers which will attract new readers year after year, the bread-and-butter of any successful publishing house. While nobody's going to give the best contracts to an unknown first-timer, neither are they likely to offer them the kind of highway-robbery deals in which Marvel trades; you never know which of those first-timers is going to go on to steady sales and reliable name recognition, now do you? Authors who strike gold are likely to remember whether or not their publisher tried to screw them the next time their contracts come up for renewal. The writer, not the work, is the intellectual capital everyone's trying to acquire, and one doesn't want to alienate the moneymakers. In the booksellers market, work-for-hire carries an air of sleaze wisely relegated to disposable romance novels and fly-by-night publishers — and well it should.

This is not to say that the magic of capitalism turned the book trade into some airy "best of all possible worlds" with a pass of Adam Smith's hand, of course. Authors have been agitating for more advantageous working conditions since the first copyright laws were issued in England centuries ago. American author Mark Twain was one of the notables who appeared in Congress in the later half of the 1800s to call for proper copyright protections, and eventually founded his own publishing house to protect his work. The Authors Guild formed in 1919 to provide a voice for writers in legislative bodies and contract negotiations. Organizations like The American Society of Journalists and Authors routinely share information to ensure that their members don't get screwed on the deal. Even in literary genres which sprung from the sleaziest of pulp magazines, there are unions, guilds and associations which have worked tirelessly to uplift their memberships, from science fiction to mystery to cowboy stories. The kinds of battles cartoonists could never quite bring themselves to fight were won decades ago in the book trade. It's a long way from the Direct Market.